The Banana Tornado

My computer as enabler and muse. As a participant in a beginning computer graphics workshop in the 1980s, I was sketching a banatmospheric image, when I must have accidentally clicked my mouse on some unknown command, and one of my bananas morphed—right before my eyes—into a tornado! That accidental visual transformation sparked a surfeit of silly and serious ideas in me. This serendipity born of my computer ignorance was so inspiring that I went out and bought my first computer. It took a while to resist agonizing over doing things wrong and start seeing and embracing what was actually happening, thus turning “mistakes” into a process of discovery and growth in a relatively non-verbal, intuitive, spontaneous, and non-judgmental state of naiveté.

Pitching Computers. I’m on my 7th computer and still often struck dumb and benumbed by computer instructions. I sometimes want to pitch it (and me) out my second story window, especially every 6 years or so when I have to buy a new one and face new unwanted too-clever-by-half system changes. On the other hand, making pictures and books and writing in my computer is so engrossing and satisfying (albeit in a love/hate kind of way) that I often forget myself (yay!) and lose all track of time.

So I must also pitch my computer as a great tool. Sketching electronically, I don’t have to worry about breaking my colored pencil leads, smearing paint on my face, uncontrollably erasing until there are holes in my paper, not being able to stop before the picture is ruined. On my computer, I can endlessly do and undo and redo my marks and make layers of imagery that can be rearranged or hidden but not lost. I can save many versions of my pictures. Nothing has to be final.

Do you suffer from anxiety? Digital sketching dispels anxiety, because nothing is ever really lost or overworked beyond redemption. Without the worry of ruining your picture irretrievably, you’re free to chase ideas, capture forms, and contemplate enumerable permutations for as long as it takes on your way to satori (or death from old age).

From digital sketch to embroidery—