Beginning: A Child’s Doodle, An Artist’s Reflection
I was sitting at the table, watching my one-year-old daughter hold a pencil. Her tiny fingers gripped it awkwardly but with clear purpose. As she moved it across the paper, the marks she made were wild and messy, lines without order or rules, just pure exploration. I couldn’t look away.
Her raw, impulsive scribbles felt strangely familiar. Whenever I tried to draw without a plan, I often filled the page with the same kind of wild lines. I always enjoyed those moments, especially when my mind was moving too fast to focus on one thought.
Watching her, I realized I wanted to capture that feeling in a series: the energy of chaos, the innocence of play, and the freedom of creating without trying to make everything flawless.
Process: Giving Chaos a Form
I started with a simple limit: one color and a few tools. I used black ink, a nib, a ruling pen, and sometimes just a stick. These limits helped me focus on the movement of the lines instead of decoration.
I let intuition take over. Long, sweeping strokes began to resemble letters, then dissolved back into abstraction. Scribbles gradually became compositions. Thick lines collided with thin ones, and a rhythm emerged from the noise.
As I tried different things, I saw that the bold, free lines should stand out, while the rest of the text could be written more simply with a pen or stick. This mix of control and freedom became a key feature of the collection.
Experimentation: From Phrase to Series
When I began the collection, I didn’t know if the idea would turn into something I really liked. I made a list of phrases I wanted to write in this style and started trying them out.
My first try was a long phrase: “out of words for the day, try again tomorrow.” It soon became clear it was too long. So I tried something much simpler: “love.”
I started writing, and instinctively repeated the word until it fit four times on the sheet. I didn’t notice the pattern at first. Only when I thought about the title did I see it: Four Love. It sounded like “for love.” It was a happy accident, but it became the heart of the piece. This work was, quite literally, for love.
From there, more phrases appeared: “nonsense but nice,” “no time for fancy,” “life is a game, play it.”
The phrases were purposely short and open to interpretation. Hidden in the lines, they become small visual puzzles. You might see a piece right away, or you might have to look twice. The experience reminds me of a stereogram: sometimes the image suddenly appears, and sometimes you just see the surface.
Why “No Time for Fancy”?
At first, I wanted to call the collection “Scribbles,” because that’s how it started. But as I worked on the pieces and wrote their stories, I realized No Time for Fancy captured something much deeper.
The phrase shows not only how the work looks but also how it was made. Between raising my children and finding time to create, I’ve learned that time is very limited. There is no space for endless perfection. Sometimes you have an idea, grab your tools, make something, and see what happens.
Finding Meaning in the Mess
Now, when people see my work, I hope they stop and let their thoughts wander, caught in the flow of the lines and the playfully unclear meaning of the words.
In a place made for focus, order, and purpose, I like the idea of having something that doesn’t need to be figured out. Something that just breaks the usual and gives the mind a moment to wander.
The beauty of chaos isn’t always about understanding it; sometimes it’s about being in the moment, letting curiosity and wonder guide you.