The Day Abstraction Died and the Quest for Perfection
Wednesday, January 18th, 2012
There was a time when you drew pictures.
With crayons and fat pencils you traced your world, oblivious to constraints that now stifle your creativity. There wasn’t a right or wrong way to draw, you just created. Your eyes savored everything they saw and you learned to explain this on paper with scribbles.
You drew things from all sides because that is how you saw them. Front, back, and inside-out. Proportion was something you felt rather than measured. Literal perspective didn’t interest you so you drew what something felt like, not how it appeared.
You drew the things you knew and loved. Your bike, mom and dad, and your pet. Love was expressed not by the accuracy of your lines but by the feelings inside you as you would drag your pencil across the paper. And for a while these treasures were posted on household monuments, held up by loose magnets and pushpins.
Then something terrible happened.
Criticism crept it. It no longer looked right. You become unsatisfied with the result. Maybe you came to this harsh realization on your own, or maybe someone corrected you. All of a sudden a new goal was imposed upon your drawings: realism.
And that was the day when your appreciation for abstraction died. Perfection became the goal and you never recovered.
From that day forward you held your drawing up and compared it against a more photographic representation of your world. Some of us gave up and never seriously drew a picture again. The fun was gone because we thought that drawing was really hard.
Some of us dug in and set out to perfect our drawings. We put down our crayons and started using both sides of the pencil. We burned through erasers as corrections were made. We learned to shade. We took measurements and traced photographs. Eventually our drawings started to look more like photographs. And that pleased us for a while.
A rare few became experts at drawing, refining the craft and creating stunning artifacts. Others embraced the camera and the literal renderings it delivers, pushing reality to reveal things that people have never seen before. Still others found other ways of expression leaving drawing behind in favor of music, writing, engineering, or some other profession where creativity is rewarded. We usually call these people artists. But most people never recover from the shock that they experienced when realism was imposed on their drawings as a child.
What if the oppression of realism was an artifact of adulthood that could be shed just as suddenly as your childhood realization that your drawings didn’t look right? Perhaps our understanding of the world is a constant revelation and not a two-stroke experience of pre/post adulthood. What is the next discovery of your life after you abandon your quest for perfection? Could it begin today?




















The photo on the right is one of maybe three photos that I am really proud of. Part of it is that I think it is just a great moment, but I think it is probably because I am so emotionally connected to it. It was taken during a parade in Grand Island, Nebraska on a wonderful autumn weekend spent visiting friends and family. It was one of the first rolls of film shot for my college photography class. I was nearly bursting with excitement for that class and couldn’t wait to take pictures with my new Pentax ZX5n. I remember breaking away from my friends and walking down the street looking for something to take a photo of. Then all of a sudden this moment happened in front of me. It was surreal. I remember being literally scared as I took the photo. This was it! I only took one shot but I knew it was a good one. I think I was shaking as I walked away from that scene. I have never had that feeling since.