You know that delicious thing that happens when you look at a painting of a bird and… it’s clearly a bird, but it looks nothing like a “real” bird? Maybe the body is a funny shape, or the whole thing is stitched, collaged, scribbled and slightly wonky. And yet your brain doesn’t hesitate for a second….it goes, “Ah, bird.” That’s the quiet magic of art. Our minds don’t actually need perfect realism to recognise something. In fact, the less literal the image, the more space there is for you to step in, to feel, imagine, and project your own story onto it. A totally unrealistic bird can be more fascinating than a photographic one because it isn’t just about feathers and anatomy anymore; it becomes about character, mood, emotion. Unnatural colours might make it feel otherworldly, symbolic, or deeply personal. When we move away from realism, we’re not failing at art, we’re inviting a different kind of truth. A truth about how something feels rather than how it looks. That strange little bird on the page starts to hold all sorts of things: freedom, fragility, hope, curiosity, grief, joy. It becomes a mirror for whatever the viewer is carrying. So yes, you can paint a bird that would make no sense in a biology book, and still have it land straight in someone’s heart. Sometimes the wonky, impossible bird is the one that feels most alive. 🦅