The Intellectual Pleasures of Draw Something

My coworker told me, “Download Draw Something and watch your next 3 hours disappear.” I did exactly that, marveling that anything save heroin and cigarettes could be quite as addictive as purported. Like 14 million other users, I was immediately and almost irreparably hooked on the game, which is a colorful, capacitive-screen update of the classic Pictionary.

At first I was rather rudimentary in my drawings—turning out good-enough hieroglyphs for friends and strangers to guess. Then I took a turn with an especially creative friend who rendered me a werewolf with more character than you see on a CBS sitcom. Then on tumblr, I stumbled upon some truly inspired Drawn Somethings. I suddenly realized this game could be so much more. To paraphrase a statement I read online but cannot readily source, “Draw Something is like commissioning tiny paintings from my friends.” Once I got an iPad, I reveled in going completely overboard to render something simple.

My hours on Draw Something have yet to rival Angry Birds levels of obsessiveness, but I admit to spending more than a healthy amount of time playing. All this time has got me thinking about why this game fascinates me so much. Its addictive properties are well documented, but my brain has been tickling: Does the game get in touch with something deeper about our minds and our culture? And why do I like it so darn much. So here is some of what Draw Something represents to me.

The Psychology of Symbolism

I’m a classically trained artist. The number one rule drilled into my head during my decade and a half of arts education was not to symbolize. In other words, draw what you see not what you think you see. Eschewing symbolism was tremendous for my ability to render from reality, allowing me to excel in portraiture.

But symbolism is exactly what makes art so communicative. It’s why we can communicate with images that are not photographs—paintings, cartoons, and Draw Something doodles alike. Our brains combine information from various sources to create a unified interpretation of an image, even if we have never seen that image before. Certain shapes, colors, objects, etc. signify meaning within and among cultures.

Much of this symbolism is learned, through experience, education, and acculturation. This aspect of Draw Something fascinated me because it emphasized how I share intellectual and cultural development with other people (more on this in a bit). But even more fascinating to me is our shared ability to interpret symbols even beyond what we are taught. For example, it takes just three marks to make a face.

:)

It doesn't look anything like a face; however, the signifier is undeniable. But it’s not something we’re taught, like the Pythagorean Theorum; it’s actually a skill we’re born with. Babies can recognize faces (as distinct from non-faces) at just 3 months old. Moreover, studies demonstrate that humans have a unique, inherited, genetic ability to recognize faces where none should reasonably exist.

Intellectually, we know this

  looks absolutely nothing like this

But our evolutionary instincts take over and translate the symbol—in case, you know, that face is someone trying to steal your food or kill your young. It’s also why all three of these examples work equally well to convey meaning:

In a strange way, I feel like Draw Something is letting me connect with other people on a more basic level—while also connecting with them on a more complex level, which brings me to:

Personalities, Predilections Revealed

When symbols are not hardwired in our brains, diversity in interpretation becomes the challenge, with varying degrees of severity. Symbols have vastly changed over time. Think about the cross, which was once a symbol of a terrifying death, or the Nazi swastika, which once symbolized peace and harmony. With sharing-propelled pop culture, signifiers changes even faster. And that’s part of the fun.

Playing Draw Something with a diverse group of people can make the lowest common denominator of symbol rise to the top. Take the clue “Easter.”  It’s interesting that most of my teammates drew a bunny and eggs. One friend drew the stone rolled away from the tomb. The word “wreck,” as another example, is a free-for-all.

The interpretation a person chooses tells so much about their personality that couldn’t quite be seen any other way. It’s a peek inside the way they interpret words, and moreover, the way they think you interpret words. It’s a melding of the mind, like Stephen King’s “mind-reading trick” in On Writing.

Going the other way, you have to know your audience. For me, a big part of the fun is choosing an interpretation that will hopefully provide a big of amusement for my partner, as well as get a correct guess. And I definitely tend to land on the “obscurer the better” end of the spectrum. I am proud to have friends for whom I could draw something like this and get a correct answer:

For others, it would look a lot more like this:

I recently realized through a number of contextual clues that one of my DS partners was likely British. A brief mental retrospective over our 72-turn streak made me wonder if I would have drawn anything differently if I had realized that earlier. Then again, I probably don’t even know what he might not know. I like to have to second-guess what I may lazily consider universal; it reminds me that the world is a lot bigger than I am.

The Absence of Words

I mentioned above that I have substantial art training, but by trade I am a writer. I read and manipulate words all day long, nearly every day. A forum, no matter how small, where I cannot use any words at all to communicate is like a tiny brain oasis.

Definitely part of the fun for me is eschewing ALL letters and numbers in favor of images and symbols only. It’s the absence of language, which is at once uniting and dividing. Remove language, and you remove a lot of the barriers to communication. In my professional life, I write business proposals and we strive to convey as much information in graphics rather than in words for the very simple reason that graphics are more efficient for communicating certain types of information.

Of course, part of the point of Draw Something is that it’s inefficient. While there are no documented rules, many hardliners pooh-pooh any use of words (or actively call it out). For my part, I never use words, letters, or numbers, but I won’t quit a game with someone just because they do—unless it’s seriously blatant. Because what’s the fun in this?

The second part of the joy I get in the absence of words is that communication is absolutely reduced to the task at hand—at least until the latest update. Previously, your drawing had to speak for itself. And the only praise you got was a correct guess. If you felt really compelled to applaud your partner for a particular mini-masterpiece, you could squiggle out an awkward “Awesome!” with your finger, then trash the drawing and get onto the task. But that was it. It felt elementary—rudimentary and joyful as finger painting. But in the days of the like button, endless streams of comments, and retweeting, I think we’ve all gone a little too far in our hunger for e-validation. Draw Something was a little respite from the constant approval mongering. Which brings me to…

The Joy of Creating in a Vacuum

If I spent a lot of extra time drawing a really special “Lennon” for you, it was because I wanted to do that—for you and for myself. Because it was hopefully a little highlight to both of our days. Sure, I may dash off a quick “bride” before I go to sleep. But in large part, I try to spend some time on my little doodles. There’s no countdown clock, no extra coins for getting done faster. In a world where everything seems reduced to its most streamlined 140 characters, where every task seems multitasked, it’s nice for me to slow down while I’m drawing for you—and for you to slow down while you watch me draw it.

More than that, the drawings used to disappear as soon as they were sent. Sure, you could capture a screenshot (and many have) but that wasn’t really in the spirit of things. For the most part, the “tiny paintings” were a fleeting pleasure, shared between you and your DS partner. I was disappointed that the update not only lets you save your drawings, but has buttons for sharing them on the social network. The small pleasure of creating in a vacuum, just for the sheer joy of doing it, has been reduced like so many other things as a means to get attention.

The changes brought about by the update  didn’t surprise me—especially after the OMGPOP CEO showed his true colors, comparing DS to Information Age behemoths AOL and Facebook. His true motive (not that I blame him) is to sell as many apps as possible to demanding consumers who have had their tastes cultivated for them by the prevailing social media, not to preserve a neat little microcosm of culture—pop and otherwise. 

But I still love the game, and I’ll still play for all the reasons cited above. But I’m keeping it between you and me.

It's the End of the World As Wayne Knows It

Since I've done almost nothing but rant and argue and complain for the past eight posts, here's something on the lighter side.

My friends and I--team Liquid Squid--participated in the 48-Hour Film Project last year. I encourage you to check out the organization and read about the details of the contest. It basically boils down to:

• Friday = beer and pizza fueled screenplay writing, constrained by contest-wide parameters including a specific character, prop, line of dialogue, and genre
• Saturday = coffee and doughnut fueled acting and filming, constrained by location, available equipment, and daylight
• Sunday = adrenaline fueled editing, constrained by flagging energy and a looming deadline

The result is a short film that may or may not be coherent. But damn did we have fun--and we won "Best Use of Prop"! This was our entry, It's the End of the World As Wayne Knows It. 

There Must Be Something in the Water

All my baby birds keep hatching with two heads...

Return of the Two-Headed Chick

I spent Saturday morning finishing up this custom order, then spent Saturday afternoon dyeing wool to make a new version of one of my all-time favorite creations.

If you've never dyed your own wool, it's actually really fun and easy. I use Kool-Aid--it's fast, cheap, easy, clean, and I can get a variety of bright colors. (Please keep in mind, though, the dyeing I do is for artwork, not for wearables, so I don't know how Kool-Aid holds up in the laundry....)

I had plain white merino wool that I'd bought last year at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. I love this wool. I recently used it to spin some beautiful thick-and-thin yarn. It's actually a little too soft and smooth to be a great felting wool, but thankfully, the dyeing process seems to "open" up the fiber shaft and, afterward, it felts like a dream.

To get the pale yellow I needed for the new chick, I chose lemonade. You need about one packet per ounce of wool per quart of water.


I put two packets of lemonade into a large pot of cold water and added the wool, gently pushing it down into the dye bath. Then I cranked up the heat and brought the mixture to a boil, letting it boil for about 10 minutes. Be careful not to agitate the wool during this point (like I did) or it will start to felt in the dye bath. This turned out to be okay for my purposes, but it would not be okay if I was planning to spin.

After the wool has "cooked," it will have sucked up all the dye, and the bath will be clear water. I placed the wool in a colander and rinsed with cold water. Because Kool-Aid is technically a food dye, it's okay to use kitchen utensils.

Last step is drying. I hung it in my shower, and it was dry and ready to use in a matter of hours.

This is the final product, currently for sale in my Etsy store. Last time I made a chick like this, I had the most trouble making the legs and getting it to stand upright with good structural integrity. This time, I circumvented that by having it sit right in an egg! I found these beautiful fake plastic eggs at JoAnn's that actually look like real eggs. The base is a dab of spackling squeezed through a pastry tip.

*Snap, Snap* Addendum

I lost my nerve.

Photographs and artwork have been removed from the Etsy shop due to lack of response needed for immediate gratification.

I am considering opening a second shop to keep my plushes separate from other works. I might feel better about that. A photograph of my naked knees for sale next to a teddy bear I made just wasn't working for me. And it might work better for the people visiting my shop.

Maybe I'm just a pussy.

I'm conflicted.

I get very little response to things I consider more serious projects, more "art." Then something like this sells the first day I list it.

It's kind of demoralizing. I mean, I'm proud to be selling things I made--but . . . But, but, but.

Experimenting in Oil

Wednesdays have become my "art night." I went to one life drawing session, but then the next week I was too fired up about working on my new painting series to go, and I spent the evening working on Woman Alone No. 1. Yesterday, I was completely planning to go back for another life drawing session (I even got a bunch of quarters at the store to plug the parking meter), but the minute I stepped across the threshold of my apartment a deep fatigue fell over me. That happens a lot: I walk in, drop my bag and laptop, hang up my coat, and then all I want to do is to sink into the couch with a DVD and my cats napping by my side. Sometimes, it's really difficult to drag myself back out of the house once I get home. When I have no particular obligation to anyone other than myself (as is the case with going to life drawing in Towson), it's even more difficult.

So the short of it is I didn't go (to my only slight regret). But I figured that if I was going to stay home, I would be at least somewhat productive. I was too tired to give the focus demanded by my Woman project, so I decided I'd just do some experiments with paint.

I recently purchased Oil Painting for the Serious Beginner by Steve Allrich, and have read about half of it. The book is pretty good, but it's restricting, because Allrich only really expounds upon the way HE paints, and really does little to explore other techniques (like glazing, which I was curious about) or other palettes (he doesn't put green on his palette, so there is a chapter about mixing green, but hardly anything about using green paint). Regardless, I did find out a lot of information I was looking for. It definitely wasn't a waste of money.

One of the most interesting things Allrich had to say was to use black paint. I've been taught by both serious painting teachers I've had not to use black, because the black that comes out of a tube rarely, if ever, occurs in life. Instead, I'd always been taught to make a mix of umber and blue to make a deep gray that can be warmed or cooled accordingly. Allrich does not agree with this school of thought, and encourages the use of black, but says to think of it as a color in and of itself, not something you add to other colors to make them darker. I thought that was interesting.

Since my tube of Lamp Black was unused from date of purchase (probably 6 years ago now) I decided that I was going to open it up and use the hell out of it.

I also took this opportunity to explore some other things I wanted to try out - different brushes, using the palette knife, mixing on the canvas, adding subtle color to black, creating texture with impasto medium, etc. One of my main objectives, as well, was to see if I could complete (or "complete") a painting in one session (known as alla prima), since I know how my attention span can wander. I don't want to end up with another half dozen unfinished paintings that I lose the source material for and end up gessoing over (as was the case with the canvases I'm working on right now: they were once other paintings).

It was a fun session. Great to play with the paint without worrying about the results. I learned that I need to figure out the best way to thin my paint (it was either too thick or too runny; rarely did I get a perfect medium). I learned that I bought horrible paint brushes that shed like crazy. I learned that if I'm going to be serious about painting I have to come to terms with the fact that I'm going to go through a LOT of paint and I have to be willing to put in the money to buy supplies (which can be tax deductible in certain cases if I remember to keep receipts). Mostly I learned that I have a lot to learn, and, as Allrich indicates in his book (and much like advice related to writing), the best way to learn how to paint is to paint a lot and look at a lot of paintings.

Here was what I ended up with at the end of the night. I think I may go back and redo her face in finer/better detail when it dries. I might also add some spot colors. Who knows. It's an experiment: I can do whatever I want.

Dead Baby Jokes Are Still Tasteless . . . Right?

I was checking out how much "art dolls" can go for on eBay this evening, and I came across this.

My initial response was one of awe at the amazing craftsmanship that would go into such a creation. But then I started to get disturbed. Who on earth would want such a realistic, lifelike--yet lifeless--doll in their home? In their life?

Then, even more disturbing, I saw this one. I would give all my prayers to the mother of a premature baby (my brother was one) but that is absolutely horrifying. And unlike my brother, who grew up to be a healthy, wonderful man, that "baby" will look like that forever.

On further exploration, I discovered these dolls have a sort of brand - they are "Reborn" dolls, and it is considered an artform to make them. Some of them have mechanized limbs and internalized motors to simulate breathing and heartbeats. All the ones I saw were anatomically correct. But stranger and creepier than the artists who "reborn" them (one of whom I saw went to the grocery store to sell them...) are the women who purchase them - and even collect them en masse. Some buy them to replace babies they lost. Some buy them to carry them around and get the attention that new moms get. Some are just hardcore doll collectors who needed the next, better, realer fix.

I have to say I am completely disturbed by this phenomenon. I try not to judge people, but I cannot deny my strongly aversive feelings about this. It's like having a taxidermied baby in your house, or in your carriage (!). *Shudder*

Okay, I'm off to bed...

...to have nightmares...


Here's a video, so you can join me: