What sort of art do you produce when you are free to produce anything you want? That question might be complicated for two reasons:

1. Do you know what you want?
2. Do you have the skills to produce your art in a way that does justice to your vision?

For me, those questions were answered with a digital painting I completed in early 2001. Until then, I had created some interesting fine art, but I wasn’t focused. I was working with paintings, assemblages, photography and digital art. The most fun I had was throwing paint on canvas and moving it around. I loved that part! Everything after that — attempting to finish the piece or make it into “art” — not so much. I owned stacks of unfinished canvases.

I felt digital imagery held a lot of promise and I bruised my computer attempting to reproduce all the good parts of throwing paint on canvas. I filled up gigabytes of disc space with unfinished art. Then one afternoon I created the piece (above) that became SMOKE. Oddly enough, the feeling was similar to the theme song from the Beverly Hillbillies: “And then one day he was shootin’ at some food, and up from the ground came a bubblin’ crude…” I had it, I knew I had it, and it was just that simple!

SMOKE represents no-strings-attached art. It was produced for the pure joy of doing it. But it has since become much more to me; a personal touchstone; literally a jumping off point for all that was to come. By understanding this piece, I understood where I could go with my art. That understanding didn’t have much to do with hardware, software or technique, but rather the A-ha! moment that exploded me out of the gates. I felt I could swoop in and around and through the image, and I could see the infinite possibilities for future art.

The computers and software I owned when I produced SMOKE are long gone; replaced with newer, better, stronger. Today I continue to explore all manner of artistic detours, but the discoveries I gleaned from SMOKE will forever fuel my artistic vision.

If you’re an artist, does your body of work include a pivotal piece which focused your artistic vision?

If you’re an art collector, can you identify a specific work of art which has come to define your collection effort?

Below is a 70 year old letter (click on the image to view it at full size) from Walt Disney Productions to Miss Mary Ford, who had applied to be an animator at the studio. She was summarily rejected for animation training because — ready? — she was a woman.

Oh man. And you think your rejection letters are unfair.

Further, even though women could be hired as Inkers and Painters, Miss Ford was strongly discouraged from applying for either of those positions “as there are really very few openings in comparison with the number of girls who apply.”

The letter was signed by one Mary Cleave, who only neglected to add “Wicked Witch.” Oh wait. I suppose the picture by her name clearly indicates her position. Okay, that was cruel. Mary was just doing her job.

This policy wouldn’t have been exclusive to Disney, of course. All studios had the same policy in 1938. Hang onto your rejection letters. In 70 years they may seem just as crazy to your grand children.

Image courtesy Sim Sandwich, used under a Creative Commons license.