The Crayola Crayon. The place where we all started. Not your run-of-the-mill marker, these magnificent tubes of colored wax were our accomplices in mayhem. Yes, that green blob on my paper is an alligator. Cheap, imaginative entertainment is the key to a memorable childhood. Can you believe that these little sticks of fun have been sold since the beginning of the 20th century? I certainly can’t, but boy, am I glad they exist. But remember what they used to say when you’d get a page from a coloring book at summer camp? “Make sure to color inside the lines!” Screw coloring inside the lines, where’s the fun in that anyway?
Fast forward to the present. I still love Crayons, so don’t worry. I didn’t waste an entire paragraph of this column for nothing. Thinking back to the times before I started to take art seriously, I remember scribbling over every slip of paper I got my hands on, furiously blending those Crayola colors until Dory from ‘Finding Nemo’ turned into a brown patch of nothing. It was once I began to recognize form that I realized the importance of lines. Even without color, lines can still create volume and give a piece definition. Renowned artists such as Van Gogh used lines to create shapes, while others such as Picasso used lines to give shapes definition. This distinction is what makes the phrase “color inside the lines” disputable. If I am using lines to create shapes, am I coloring within the lines? If I drew this computer in front of me, could I create a composition without lines? What if I just abandoned lines entirely?
“Relax Itai, don’t embarrass yourself in front of the readers, this article is starting to become horribly unserious.”
My answer boils down to Crayola and, as per usual, good artists. The first I’d like to spotlight is Francois Morellet, a French experimental artist who composed a variety of exhibitions that incorporated unpredictable themes such as abstract geometry, minimalism, and chance. Morellet would frequently use lines to explore the fragmentation of space. The piece I’d like to bring into conversation is ‘4 Self Distorting Grids’. Morellet utilizes four suspended metal grids to convey a sense of dimension without utilizing space. In Morellet’s case, it is simply perspective that either enhances or diminishes the conveyed effect of volume. However, other artists, such as Philip Guston, who experimented with a contemporary expressive style, utilized rough black lines to lay the framework for distinct objects while also mixing in ambiguous matte figures to add a hint of chaos. This style creates uncertainty, which becomes a gateway to reflection and, more importantly, discomfort; the noise caused by messy linework emphasizes this. Guston’s piece ‘Line’ best demonstrates the significance of lines in art and their influence on composition and interpretation. A large hand descends from a rough blue sky, dragging a large charcoal stick in a straight line across a barren, dark red landscape. Guston’s line signifies both a test of the artist’s virtue and a means of exploring new possibilities.
In conclusion, the artist need not question their purpose if there is simply a reason to create. Lines may seem insignificant, but however applied, they are a framework for a much deeper conversation. The Crayon is the tool for the young minds’ discovery of this principle, and I am a fool behind the confusion who gets to bear witness to it.
