Taking art direction from a Preschooler
On splashing colors and other bits of wisdom from my five year old.
As a former (current?1) commercial illustrator, I am no stranger to the concept of taking art direction - in fact, half the gig is just that. I work closely with art directors to bring a concept to life as an accompanying piece to a larger story. I’ve worked with ADs who will essentially give you the idea already formed, and even luckier to work with ADs who will give you entire creative freedom. Most of the time, it falls somewhere in between with my clients - I provide ideas, they pick the one they like best, and then I get free rein to make all other creative decisions in order to execute the piece.
Taking art direction from clients has never been hard. Seasoned artists and illustrators will more than likely agree that self-directing your work is a lot harder. You only have the vacuum of your own head to provide feedback.
Nowadays, when I paint, I do so alongside my daughter. She’s 5, and her understanding of art boils down to a simple school of thought: Splashing colors on paper is fun, and practicing makes me an artist. Both are so true2! In fact, she loves to practice so much that I have hundreds of her creations. She doodles inside her sketchbook, my sketchbooks, craft paper, watercolor paper… pretty much any sanctioned surface she can find (walls and furniture not allowed). No art direction required.
I, on the other hand, trained over years to bounce ideas off other individuals either in academic or professional settings, have struggled with her school of thought a bit more in my own work. Splashing colors on paper is fun, so long as I do it harmoniously, and practicing is frustrating if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing (subject matter, what’s that?). I’m trying to break out of this mindset, I promise. But I just stared at the blank page that day; I had no more energy to give. So I decided to take art direction from my irreverent little art director.
I asked her what I should draw. She said to draw something that makes me happy, which is about the highest bit of wisdom any artist should receive and actually implement. From the mouth of babes.
So I did. I told her green grass and the open sky make me happy. She enthusiastically pointed to her empty green well in her paint palette and told me I could use what little mixed green water was left in it for the grass. My child may not be very good at sharing her candy, but she’s amazingly gracious and generous when it comes to sharing her supplies.
I took out my old one instead. The little thing has seen better days. It is an altoid tin turned watercolor palette I purchased off eBay when I was in college, so well over a decade, and has been banged around for just as long. The decades-old paint is cracking, the yellow well almost empty, and the whole thing shows just as much irreverent usage as my daughter’s own palette. It reminds me of days when I was not as careful with image making, when the final piece did not have to be up to snuff to pass the collective approval of an editorial team, and I could focus more on the journey—on splashing colors and practicing. This is my oldest tool in my toolbox, and despite how grubby it has become (and I am surprised it has not begun rusting yet), it will have to be pried from my cold dead hands.
I set out to paint open fields and wide skies. My daughter looked at my color mix, which was leaning towards peach, then looked at me, raised her eyebrows and said: “Mooooommmm, the sky is supposed to be blue!”
I remixed my paint. So, I suppose, there was some art direction involved after all.
But I think the biggest art direction she gave me were her words vs. her color choice for the sky (as she went and painted the sea in her picture purple). The five year old has it right, folks. I hope to pass on that little bit of wisdom today: Paint what makes you happy, make what brings you joy.
And if you made it this far into this letter, thank you for joining me, I hope to hear about what art you’re making right now, and I hope your week doing your work in this world goes well. Happy Tuesday!
I am not as active in terms of doing commercial illustration as I was a few years ago. This may or may not change, but I am hesitant to call myself a current commercial illustration when it no longer is my main source of income.
Her association of practice with art has also taught her that practice means patience, a happy side effect of telling her that no art making is bad, and yes, paint does take a very time to dry, but she should just keep at it. Her ability to patiently wait for things has improved in the last two years, and I’d like to think it’s in part due to our weekend painting sessions.