I used to have a wooden picnic table in my kitchen and I told friends they could draw whatever they wanted on it, whenever they wanted. A drawer full of black sharpies were nearby and people would draw random doodles, rudimentary portraits, funny quotes, and everything in between.
One strange phenomenon I discovered was that whenever people didn’t know what to do, they drew a dick. Even the girls did this. It was strange how predictable it had become, and it happened without people even knowing there were other dicks already on the table.
From there, I started drawing dicks out of irony. At the time, dicks in and of itself weren’t amusing to me, but the idea that it was the default drawing for uninspired minds was.
To this day, I still draw dicks and make random dick sculptures but I must shamefully admit, I don’t think I do it out of irony anymore. At some point, I had matured to think that dicks are an inherently funny subject matter for any type of creative venture. The same holds true for middle fingers.
Art is hard.