Miffy has always been there.
If you met her as a child, you won’t have forgotten her.
Each time you see her iconic face – two simple dots and a cross for her mouth – in books, on posters, in the toy shop, it’s like running into an old friend. You can almost see her wave.
So it was a bit of a shock – and a delight – to come across this interview with author and illustrator Dick Bruna (via Fresh Creation), and to register that Miffy had a creator.
I almost didn’t want to watch it, for fear of spoiling the magic. But Bruna is just as charming as his creations, and full of wisdom for creators. Here’s what he had to say.
Less Is More
When I’m drawing Miffy, just the face, the two eyes and the little cross, it can take forever to make her look a tiny bit unhappy or a tiny bit cheerful. I spend ages working on these minute details.
Miffy’s Mum and Dad, for instance, being a little older, have an extra line on their crosses, a wrinkle.
The less you do, the more it matters. And the more you do, the less you need to do.
Aikido master Gozo Shioda said he was better in his seventies than in his eighties – he was wasting less effort, doing only what was absolutely necessary to throw his youthful opponents as they huffed and puffed.
Bruna is a master of minimalism. The less he puts on a page, the bigger it looms. Miffy is tiny and enormous at the same time. She is unmistakeable.
Takeaway: Each time you start a piece of work, resolve to do less than last time. Only do the bits you absolutely have to. The bits that would leave a hole if they were missing.
Keep Your Audience in Mind
When I’m sitting at my drawing table it sometimes feels as if a child is standing there, looking straight at me. It’s one of the reasons my figures are always facing you. Children have this great directness.
I’ve heard this before, from the many writers I’ve coached over the years. I’ve seen writers get stuck when they have the wrong people in mind as they write – the critics, their peers or the academics.
But when the right person walks into your mind, it’s as if a switch has been flipped. When you focus on them, and what you want to say to them, the words become obvious.
Takeaway: Who are you creating for? Before starting work, call them to mind. Look at them. Listen to them. Notice how they feel, what they want from you. Then you’ll know what to do.
Learn from the Masters
You’re always trying to improve, achieve greater simplicity. It’s been a process, getting to this plane surface. As it was for Mondriaan and many others. This has become my style. I very rarely use perspective.
Matisse of course taught me simplicity and the use of colours. In his final years he made these cut-outs in plain colours on a white surface. I really liked those. In my work I’ve also tried to reduce things as much as I could, leaving only the bare essentials.
We’ve all seen the works of Mondrian and Matisse. But how many of us have looked at them like Bruna?
We revere Bruna’s work because he revered his own masters. He followed in their footsteps until their path became his own.
Takeaway: Out of countless artists in history, there are one or two with something important to teach you. When you find them, devour their work. Look at everything they did. Study it. Copy it. Memorize it. Stay with it, until you learn your lesson.
Keep Working
You knew this was coming, didn’t you? I know I go on about it, but creativity really is work. But not just any work. Work that you love. Work with meaning and purpose.
Bruna is in his eighties and still working seven days a week. I doubt he needs the money. He’s doing it because he loves it. Because he wants to keep bringing joy and wonder to countless children and adults across the world.
That’s something to aspire to. I hope I’m still hard at it in my eighties, doing something I enjoy that people are pleased to see.
Takeaway: What are you spending your time on today? Are you following a path you can see yourself treading for the rest of your life? If not, maybe it’s time to switch.
More Miffy marvels at Miffy.com.
What Do You Make of Miffy?
What stood out from the interview for you?
Have you ever created more by doing less? How?
Who are your creative masters? What have you learned from them?
About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a poet and creative coach.
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1 2 Next »Gosh I remember Miffy, the "cute little bunny"! What a wonderful post - thanks for the memories.
That bunny looks vaguely familiar to me, but I can't help but feel it just looks like a Western version of Hello Kitty! That doesn't really matter, though, because what you do well, Mark, is take real-world examples and make them relevant to your audience - whether we've heard of the example before or not.
I may have never heard of Miffy before, and she may not bring back fond memories for me as she did for Barbara, but I still got a great deal out of this post. The most interesting part for me was:
"Each time you start a piece of work, resolve to do less than last time."
As a minimalist by nature, this rings true to me, but it also seems contrary to the typical advice that is given to always push further and add more layers to one's work. I almost think that doing less and more have to happen simultaneously. Doing less teaches you what the core part of your work is. Doing more adds depth to it. You need to do less to find out what is essential, but then do more to take it to the next level and evolve it (and perhaps add something to the core).
Another great post, Mark. Thanks.
@ Barbara, @ Adam - Glad to know it works whether you know Miffy or not!
@ Adam - Miffy was born in 1955, Hello Kitty in 1974, which makes Miffy the Elder Stateswoman of cuteness. :-)
I think 'pushing further' can mean either adding more or doing less - probably knowing which to do is the hardest bit of all!
Mark, I love the minimalism bit. The worst thing many artists and writers can do is fall in love with their own cleverness. I've been there. Sometimes I'm still there.
Sometimes nothing is harder than paring down the fluff and the fat. But often nothing is more worthwhile.
Oh, and I like Miffy.
For me as a writer, learning from the masters means reading the classics, even (especially?) the ones I read as a younger man. They usually have so much more meaning to me now.
I had an English professor who insisted that all of our papers be no longer than 1 page, double-spaced. The first paper I handed in was 1 1/2 pages. I got it back with a comment that it was too long. Doc Young was attempting to teach us to stick to the essentials in our writing, rather than write silo-filler. While I have a tendency toward wordiness, Doc Young's lesson remains with me.
@ Josh - Reminds me of Dr Johnson's comment on editing one's own work: "Read over your compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out."
@ Frank - Sounds like the perfect excuse for me to read Gormenghast yet again. ;-)
@ Mary - I wish I'd had Doc Young as my tutor! He would have been just what I needed.
I'm late to the party on this one, but one of my favourite painters is Paul Klee. There was a quality about his work I couldn't quite define, until I read about his life and discovered he was a musician. At first glance, his work may seem simple, but it is not.
There is always some subtle extra something (please pardon the grammatical massacre) about the work of people who are deeply passionate about what they do, and who have enough sense to get out of the way and let it happen. The extra stuff is usually just nerves.
The bunny I grew up with was Bugs. I think I may have missed out.
I know what you mean about Klee. My world is poetry, where haiku poets like Basho and Issa are masters of paring things down to essentials. Or in the Western tradition, someone like William Carlos Williams.
And Bugs is cool too. Maybe I'll do him next week. ;-)
More with less is not something I've thought a lot about lately. It's a challenge to see how that will apply to our everyday lives. We usually think of doing more more more.
It's been ages since I've seen Miffy!