People kept telling me magical realism art was dope, but honestly? It scrambled my brain at first. Like, dragons sipping tea in a subway? Nah. So I decided to tackle it myself, figure out why folks dig it. Grabbed my sketchbook and a cheap coffee.
The Initial Confusion Phase
I started trying to draw a regular Tuesday morning commute, boring stuff – people in suits, trains, maybe a pigeon. But then I thought, "Where's the magic?" Poked my brain. Couldn’t visualize a floating cat reading a newspaper realistically. It felt forced. Got frustrated. My coffee went cold. Almost gave up, thinking maybe it just wasn't for me.
Shoving Ordinary & Weird Together
Next day, looked at my backyard. Normal, right? Lawn chair, rusty swing, my old bike. I shoved weirdness in. What if the lawn chair was gossiping? Made its metal legs bend like crossed legs, gave its seat a little frown talking to the swing silently. Didn’t try to make it sparkle or glow – just a grumpy chair having a chat. Suddenly, it clicked a tiny bit. The weird was sitting inside the normal, not pasted on top.
Making Weird Stuff Feel Boring
Recalling that chair, I tried something else. Kid walked past holding a fishbowl on his way to school. Normal kid, normal street. I drew the fish swimming around… but outside the bowl. Just trailing behind the kid like it was a yellow balloon on a string. No one in the drawing even glanced at it. The kid looked bored. That was key! The magic wasn't a big show; it was just there, treated like the most boring Tuesday thing ever. Made it feel oddly believable.
Letting Randomness Happen
Okay, feeling bolder. Spilled my coffee (again). Messy brown blob. Annoying. But the stain kinda looked like a weird bird wing. So I leaned into it. Took my pen and just traced shapes inside the stain. Didn't force it. Lines became pipes, the blob morphed into a small, rusty robot bird perched on the mug's edge, oil dripping like coffee drops. It wasn't planned. The accident created the magic. Less pressure, more fun.
Real World Rules Still Apply (Mostly)
Got cocky. Drew a floating castle above the grocery store. Cool! But it looked dumb, fake. Why? Light was all wrong. The castle wasn't casting a shadow on the cars below. I slapped a big, proper shadow under it. Made the castle obey gravity’s light rules, even if it defied gravity itself. Suddenly, its impossible presence felt strangely grounded, like it should be casting that shadow. Physics matters, even for floating castles.
Looking At My Own Stuff Differently
My kid shoved a doodle under my nose – our cat eating from a bowl, but the bowl was a tiny flying saucer with alien symbols. The cat looked utterly unimpressed. That’s when I really got it. The point wasn't explaining the saucer. It was the cat’s total disregard for the bizarre. The magic is cool because it doesn’t shout; it whispers inside the mundane world. My messy attempts – the talking chair, coffee bird, shadowed castle – all showed me that. It makes you look closer at the ordinary, wondering what magic might be hiding in plain sight, treated like Tuesday’s leftovers.
