Fantasy: A Purple Crayon

{{Following is an essay I wrote for Stephanie Jansen's final capstone book, themed "Flights of Fancy." It doesn't have anything directly to do with inde study, but I'm posting it here in case anyone wants to take a look:}}

My first art instruction was given to me by my babysitter and involved step by step instructions on how to draw a princess. I would practice on my magna-doodle: circle for the head, a smaller circle on the side represented upswept hair, rectangle neck and arms, two circles for the pouffy princess sleeves, a rectangle ending in a point for the bodice, and a giant half circle skirt. From there I expanded my repertoire to religious figures: Jesus on the cross--complete with crown of thorns and pierced side--was a popular subject in my 6 to 8 year old work. I was allowed to draw in church and would give my latest masterpiece to the priest after mass every Sunday in return for hard candy...quite literally my first taste of the artist/patron relationship.

My interest in art gave the adults in my life an easy out on gift ideas. Birthdays without fail included newsprint sketchbooks and a never-ending stream of crumbly watercolor wafers. I lusted after scented magic markers in skinny white plastic casings, sharpened ebony pencils and the dusty curves of pink pearl erasers. At some point, I acquired a picture book called Harold and the Purple Crayon that quickly became one of my favorites. The story is simple and lovely. Harold has a purple crayon with which he draws the ‘reality’ around him: from pies to dragons to a boat for the ocean that he inadvertently draws himself into. I was drawn to Crocket Johnson’s spare illustrations and the softly expressive lines of his crayon-wielding protagonist. I’d almost forgotten about the book until recently when I Google image-searched “imagination” on a whim for this essay and a thumbnail of Harold popped up. Upon rereading the story, I noticed for the first time the other less obvious creative tool that Harold suggests to readers: fantasy.

Fantasy is a bit of a loaded word...its associations run the gamut from innocent daydreaming to Freudian fetishes. The word has an interesting etymology. It’s rooted in the Greek phantasia, which itself derived from verbs like phantazein (to make apparent; to appear) and phainein (to display; to show). In Sophist 264a, Plato describes phantasia as “a blend of perception and judgement.” Aristotle believed it played a key role in human movement and desire. The concept of fantasy has always been a significant theme in the arts...the ability to create something out of nothing would be impossible without it. Fantasy acts as a guide between perception and thought, between the concrete world around us and the world of the mind. Our ability to modify the world--to even imagine that there could be ‘a better way’--is dependent on our ability to fantasize.

Most of my imagination nowadays is taken up with dreaming of the future. I don’t dilly dally much with the past. I don’t have to since much of my past is still in recent memory and in the memories of the people around me...easily drummed up, easily recalled and detailed. When that fails, computers are on hand to recall my past in embarrassing detail: the first blog I started when I was 14, thousands upon thousands of digital pictures, emails from ex boyfriends, instant messages with ex best friends. etc.etc.etc. I don’t know whether this ad nauseam digital account of my life is good or bad, or how these types of accounts will change my generation’s relationship with the past, but the future certainly seems even more mysterious when the past is in such close reach. Whereas the past is cemented in all its digital reality, my fantasy future remains a perfect ideal where I can test all the possible directions various life paths might take.

For instance, in one fantasy I might strike up a conversation with someone in a coffee shop. I find out they work for a non-profit that deals with a social cause I’m interested in and we exchange business cards. I end up volunteering with them for a while and find my true calling. Maybe I end up going to law school after all, becoming a ballsy lawyer with a reputation for kicking ass and taking names. When not on the job, I travel a lot speaking to people about the cause and rallying support. Maybe I even run for office and get into politics. I’m able to push for reform from the front lines, making the world a bit better all while wearing fabulous 4-inch heels and a black pantsuit.

In another fantasy, I get married right away to a great guy. Maybe we have a baby. I freelance from home, slowly making a name for myself. In the meantime, my husband makes an irresistible indie film that ends up being a sensation. We move to a cozy house in Silver lake where I have a space over the garage that serves as my studio. I have super creative kids that work on their super awesomely brilliant kid projects while I work on my super awesomely brilliant graphic design adult work. I’m done with work every day by 4. Then I go to the grocery store, come home and make an amazing from-scratch experimental gourmet meal every night.

In other fantasies I go to grad school and get into education, teaching design while developing my own theories and projects. Or open a pastry shop and cafe where I get to bake all day. Or join peace corps. Or.........

Of course in my imagination, all of this is happening simultaneously. The domestic mommy me is also the front-lines fighting lawyer and the person getting her doctorate in some field of design that doesn’t even have a specific name yet. My fantasy world is a post-feminist heaven...where I can be superwoman and supermom and superwife all at the exact same time and still get 8 hours of sleep at night.

Fantasies are so important because simultaneous alternate realities are not allowed in the real world. In this world if I choose a path I might be stuck with it. Even when I can change direction after considerable effort, I certainly can not make it so that I never chose the original path. I can not literally undo something. But in my fantasy world I can be more reckless, less attuned to the constrictions of reality, and therefore much more wildly imaginative than I ever can be when faced with real world choices. Of course that’s not the end of the story. Fantasies allow us to imagine a better real world and then--as Aristotle suggested--creates the desire and movement to do something about it.

Harold is a good example of someone using his imagination in the moment, getting himself in and out of trouble and using his crayon to do so. There are overly obvious parallels to the life of ‘creatives,’ but the lessons really apply to anyone. I can’t draw myself into this perfect future world that I see for myself, but I can draw myself in and out of scenarios in my everyday life: making things a little more interesting, seeing where things could be better, and making necessary changes. Imagination is an agent for change, and therefore so is all design work. For that matter, so is any work that begins with fantasy.