This past week I’ve been isolating from my family with covid. This is my first experience doing this, staying exclusively in my bedroom while in the house and having little to no contact with the two people I love the most.
A couple of nights ago I was ruminating about all of the fun things I missed doing with our 9 year old. I miss his beam-of-light-ness and how he gets excited about things. I miss playing games with him. Games are one of his favorite things. He loves board games, card games, role playing games, video games, games you make up yourself. In his world, everything can be a game. And he’s right.
I was laying around and I had this random vision of he and I working on a painting together, but as if we were playing a game. We were sitting across from each other taking turns putting marks on a canvas that was in between us like a chess board.
So it’s day 7 of ~my little covid hell week~ and in my tightly fitted n95 mask I emerge like a mythical creature and pose this idea to him at 7pm last night. Appearing in the doorway with a light in my eyes: dude, I have a really fun idea. He hears me and immediately rips his headphones off and gives me his full attention. (That was cool).
So here’s the gist, I say. I think we should make some art together, but in a way as if we are playing a game. We will take turns. Maybe there are rules. Maybe there aren’t rules. Whatever. We’re just going to see what happens if we make art with the attitude that it’s some kind of game we are playing, yeah? He is absolutely stoked about this idea and asks me to do it right now.
So I grab some thick watercolor paper from my bag and he grabs some cat-shaped gel crayons from his desk. We sit on the floor. We each pick a color. The first piece we make is no rules. Just make a mark and then the next person takes their turn. And something absolutely incredible and magical started to happen and I’ve literally never understood art more in my life.
From the get go, it was almost impossible to just make a “random” mark. Each one was some kind of intuitive strategy, either in response to the turn before, or in response to the negative space still left. I became really sensitive to instinct, but not methodical. And observing his fearless process as he had fun doing this. Secret mysterious game rules and ways to make moves appeared out of thin air. But none of them needed to be explained or second guessed. The kind of creative logic that you don’t invent - because it invents itself.
We decided this piece was done and immediately wanted to make another one. This time, he says, ok, one rule to start us off: only ovals.
And instead of the same ovals making the same pattern, one SIMPLY CAN’T HELP but to try something new, to play off of the other shapes, to make a different move. Out of pure curiosity and play, this one evolved into a collaborative game of one of us making a starter oval and the other one responding to it. Each one was a new little code or recipe or universe, until we decided this piece was done.
The next piece started with a pink box and the only rule was “It has to make sense. Whatever that means to you”. Then another rule emerged: “You can’t use the same color you used on your last turn, or the color the last person used on theirs”.
Now we can’t stop talking about the possibilities! Different materials, different surfaces, secret rules that you never speak of, the potential for fun and exploration and “seeing what happens” goes on for infinity.
I love that you can’t tell which marks are mine and which are his in this one:
I’ve experienced this kind of flow in my art-making a lot, but I never saw it this way or could describe it this way until now. I make a move, and then the next move is a response to the one before. I make another move but can’t pin down why but it just makes sense and actually that’s enough. The art makes itself starting with one initial move or intention as a seed.
And the explanation explains itself. The rules rule themselves and change when they want. The art belongs to itself. You don’t need to do anything or think of anything profound, it will be revealed, with such richness, realness, and obviousness with very little mental effort.
It’s so amazing what happens we loosen the grip on what we think art-making even is. What if today, it is a game?
I’ve often thought about the history of games. Games seem like a part of our primitive human creativity in the same way art-making does. What was the first game? When did our human or pre-human ancestors first invent an activity, one that that maybe had rules, fairness, parameters that made sense, fun, challenge, a beginning and an end? What is it about our minds that naturally create activities and systems for pleasure, meaning, storytelling, challenges, and connection with self and other and nature?
We often think of our way-far-back ancestors in terms of survival in regard to our physical needs such as hunting and gathering for food and shelter and medicine, etc. But that’s not all we need for survival. When it comes to our other needs, it seems that the nature of a game and the nature of art-making share the same purpose that plays into our emotional and social survival. It’s easy to see why these things are so important to us as individuals and groups, and why it was so life-giving and fun to explore this with my kid. And why this is only the beginning.
I honestly think these crayon drawings are the most interesting (to me) art pieces I have ever help make and on of the most fun games I’ve played.
Thank you for reading, here are some links of mine!
So very cool-- I love this.