"But we discovered that, although I liked publishing, the commercial side meant nothing at all to me"
About this Quote
A small confession that quietly rejects an entire late-20th-century religion: the idea that creative work only becomes real once it scales. Dick Bruna’s line lands with the understated firmness of his own drawings - clean, calm, almost childlike on the surface, but uncompromising in what it refuses to perform. He isn’t denouncing publishing; he’s separating the act of making and sharing from the machinery that turns that act into an industry.
The phrasing matters. “We discovered” suggests this wasn’t a manifesto from day one but a lived realization, the kind that arrives after meetings, contracts, and the creeping sense that numbers are starting to dictate taste. “Although I liked publishing” concedes pleasure in the medium - the book as an object, the collaboration, the reaching of readers. Then comes the hard pivot: “the commercial side meant nothing at all to me.” Not “less,” not “I struggled with it,” but “nothing.” That absolutism reads as self-protection: a boundary drawn to keep the work from being redesigned into a product.
Context sharpens the subtext. Bruna’s world - picture books, mass reproduction, licensing - is exactly where commerce can easily swallow authorship. His statement frames a philosophy of restraint: simplicity not as branding, but as ethics. It also reframes success. The point isn’t purity for purity’s sake; it’s control over what the work is allowed to become. In a culture that confuses marketability with merit, Bruna’s “nothing at all” is a quiet kind of rebellion.
The phrasing matters. “We discovered” suggests this wasn’t a manifesto from day one but a lived realization, the kind that arrives after meetings, contracts, and the creeping sense that numbers are starting to dictate taste. “Although I liked publishing” concedes pleasure in the medium - the book as an object, the collaboration, the reaching of readers. Then comes the hard pivot: “the commercial side meant nothing at all to me.” Not “less,” not “I struggled with it,” but “nothing.” That absolutism reads as self-protection: a boundary drawn to keep the work from being redesigned into a product.
Context sharpens the subtext. Bruna’s world - picture books, mass reproduction, licensing - is exactly where commerce can easily swallow authorship. His statement frames a philosophy of restraint: simplicity not as branding, but as ethics. It also reframes success. The point isn’t purity for purity’s sake; it’s control over what the work is allowed to become. In a culture that confuses marketability with merit, Bruna’s “nothing at all” is a quiet kind of rebellion.
Quote Details
| Topic | Work |
|---|
More Quotes by Dick
Add to List


