Review of the “Joy of Zentangle,” featuring contributing artists Suzanne McNeill, CZT, Sandy Steen Bartholomew, CZT, and Marie Browning, CZT.

[img]2583|right|||no_popup[/img]Is there any artistic hope for people like me, who can’t draw to save their lives and, more importantly, don’t have the time to take drawing classes? It’s somewhat of a trick question. Obviously, without devoting the time to learning drawing skills most of us don’t have the innate talent to create beautiful images. Yet that creative impulse still can be satisfied by the art of doodling or, as this book by Design Originals calls it, the “Joy of Zentangle.”

Created by Rick Roberts and Maria Thomas, individuals with artistic backgrounds, Zentangle is presented as a form of meditative art. “Rick noticed that when Maria was making simple, repetitive strokes inside a large illuminated letter, her mood and demeanor changed. She became entirely focused on what she was doing,” the book tells us. From that simple observation came the realization that they had stumbled on a meditative exercise that could help people find a path to peace of mind while creating little pieces of art.

The method is simple: Take a square piece of paper, a pen, and start drawing. There are no mistakes, no right or wrong outcomes, no vision to realize. Key to the method’s success is avoiding an excess of thoughts by limiting the number of decisions to make – along with the anxiety that comes with worrying about making the “correct” choice. Whether it takes 15 minutes, an hour, or some other interval of time, the aim is to focus the mind on the process of drawing and letting the final gestalt emerge organically. Bolstered by research and clinical experience from the psychotherapy profession, The Joy of Zentangle makes a compelling case for its adoption as a regular ritual in our catawumpus lives. With a catalog of creative pattern elements called “tangles,” the book is a simple and accessible source of inspiration for a fun and restful little exercise.

[img]2584|left|Sure, Frédérik's effort is lazy…but is it art?||no_popup[/img]The Zentangle method isn’t truly innovative or rooted in new minty-fresh insights, however. It’s no surprise that the method would prove popular or effective. Essentially, it follows what Buddhists and other meditative traditions have known for a long time about the benefits of bringing mindful awareness to all that we do. The difference is that most people will find it more pleasurable to be mindful about drawing than, say, doing the dishes or garden work. Although the book’s authors strive to use mindfulness to differentiate zentangle from mere doodling, the distinction isn’t very convincing. How many students have been very focused on their doodles when supposed to be minding the teacher droning out a lecture? At the very least, almost all the artistically-inclined individuals I know spend some time doodling repetitive, typically abstract patterns in service of no particular vision – and with pleasing results. I’d wager that the zentangle method, without any specific name, is a familiar practice to many creative people, and has been for a long time.

What is presented as insightful ultimately owes more to marketing, which is why I balk at the registered trademark that accompanies the word “Zentangle,” an adornment that goes so far as becoming an injunction. “If you are creating Zentangle patterns and/or their names to create Zentangle art or ZIAs (Zentangle Inspired Art), please include “®” after the word ‘Zentangle,’ and ‘Inspired by the Zentangle® method of pattern drawing’ on ZIAs.”

I have no objection to all the books and related products, like card decks; these all serve as marvelous sources of inspiration. But we might as well copyright a method for teaching people how to ride a bicycle or how to breathe. It’s the familiar problem of simultaneously having and eating a cake: Either the method is simple, with no right or wrong, or it is actually a tangible system that justifies the cadre of “Certified Zentangle Teachers” waiting to offer further guidance. Either it’s an informal way of drawing, which is as good a definition of doodling as any, or it’s the first step in a program of teaching people how to draw. Actually, Zentangle is the first step in what could be a drawing program, judging from the number of books and teachers out there. It still strikes me as a crisis of identity, like applying the Apple business model to a Linux operating system.

Zentangle’s coarse commercial ambition is such that, in recognition of how there is no method to the method, the book’s authors strive to dictate how Zentanglers should speak about it. Readers are advised that “It’s understandable that you might wish to share the Zentangle method with family or friends…However, please make sure family and friends you are teaching understand they are learning the Zentangle method. Use Zentangle language such as tile, string and tangle, when teaching.” Yet there is nothing about using these terms that provides any superior philosophical perspective in drawing. Call a tile a square piece of paper. Call a tangle a pattern. And the string? It’s just a line drawn across the tile – I mean, square piece of paper – that serves as a baseline for the patterns. It amounts to the same, in practical terms.

The book lists at a suggested retail price of $24.99 which is rather pricey for an admittedly beautiful book. But at a discounted price through Amazon or other retailers, the book is on its own merits a delightful spark of inspiration to help us add more mindfulness, and more art, into our daily lives. Just take from it what you want, and set the rest aside.

For more information about Zentangle, visit www.zentangle.com.

Frédérik Sisa is the Page's Assistant Editor and Resident Art Critic. He is also a tweeting luddite and occasional blogger, and can be reached at fsisa@thefrontpageonline.com.