Does It Matter If This Was Made By A Human Person?
I make things for a living.
Every print, card, or sticker in my shop began as a blank page and probably quite a bit of time agonizingly staring at said blank page, wondering where to begin. I've been thinking a lot about this lately because that's what I'm doing at this very moment: trying to to manifest next year's wall calendar OUT OF THIN AIR. :)
This is last year's calendar. I am super proud of it and absolutely love how it turned out. But.... it was a ton of work! Which is why I started working on the 2027 calendar in February!
As I sit here staring at 11 blank pages for this project, I can't help but admit that I am not a very efficient artist lol. THIS. IS. TAKING. FOREVERRRRRRRR.
And then I find myself wondering something I never used to think about:
In a sea of quickly-generated non-human made art, that can be cranked out almost effortlessly, does it matter anymore that my work is made (quite painstakingly lol) by me, a not-very-efficient-human?
I know technology has always changed how art is made. New tools arrive, and artists explore and adapt. I myself love having fun with Procreate, and it has definitely changed my creative process. I don’t hand-paint every single design like I used to, and that’s okay—it’s part of how I create now.
We all have our own tolerance for new technology and our own ideas about what counts as “real art.” My dad, for example, is a completely analog artist who loves exploring new techniques and mediums—but he’s comically anti-computer-assisted art. “It has no soul!” he declares. I love him, but he scoffs at the idea of exploring Procreate, even though I think he might have fun with it.
It makes me wonder: what is “real” art? What gives art soul?
I don’t think there’s a single answer but for me, the soul of an art piece comes from the human story behind it, the choices, perspective, experiences, and care that flow into the work.
When you buy a print from me, it carries my story, my history, experience and memory. The places I’ve lived, the books I’ve read, the seasons I’ve passed through, the mushrooms I search for, the elk herd in my back yard. The years spent in my little cubicle wondering if I could make a life doing something creative.
A human-made thing exists because someone decided it was worth sitting down and making it.
And what's cool is that over time an artist develops a point of view. Certain colors keep showing up. Certain themes return again and again. Certain gestures in the work become recognizable.
These things come from living a life and doing the creative work.
And I think it's super cool to look back over my own work and see the evolution: what was important to me now vs when I first started out. How did I see the world in my 30s vs right now? How did I need to express myself at 42 vs now at 54? What do I need to say now? How will that show up in my art? How have I changed? Why does that matter?
And even when we can’t name them directly, we often feel the presence of a story, or the presence of a life, in an object made by a human. That intangible quality that makes art "real."
Does This Look Like A Cow?
When I first started painting, I agonized over every conversation I had with my cubicle coworkers when I showed them my latest paintings:
Does this look like a cow?
Not really.
What does it look like?
It kinda looks like a deer?
Oh.
I only saw imperfection. My lettering was always wonky. My painting technique was amateurish. And for the longest time, those imperfections bugged me so much because I thought they meant I would never be a "real" artist. But now I appreciate them for what they show, as much as what they lack. They show evidence that a real human person was here, making a mark, sharing a feeling, revealing the colors of her soul.
So all of this to say: THANK YOU! Every time you leave a kind comment, read a blog post, or choose to bring one of our pieces into your life, you are not just supporting a business—you are supporting a story, a life, and a process dedicated to making art that means something. And we hope that you find it meaningful too.
Every print, card, sticker, and journal we make at Little Truths Studio begins with our mission: to be better humans, to live with kindness and intention, and to declare our values into being. When you read these words, know that they came from me and Bert, sitting at our kitchen table, trying to find the best way to say them.
