| BY THE NUMBERS DAN ROBBINS HELPED GENERATIONS OF AMERICANS PUT A PIECE OF HIS AND THEIR CREATIVITY ON THE LIVING ROOM WALL
By Vicky Edwards Gehrt. Special to the Tribune.
Dan Robbins' claim to fame is that he can draw a blank. In fact, he can draw enough
blanks to create a masterpiece such as Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper."
Robbins, an Oak Brook free-lance designer, is the creator of Craft Master paint-by-number
kits. His early 1954 re-creation of "Last Supper" into blank areas to be painted by the home
artist remains the most popular paint-by-number kit ever made-and there have been
hundreds of them made. Remember "Three Kittens" playing with their ball of yarn?
Robbins drew it. "Mount Matterhorn"? Robbins did that one, too. He also has done
seascapes, landscapes, a nude, abstract designs, and his late mother's personal favorite,
which still hangs on his wall, "Old Mill."
Although most people recall the general outline of the paint-by-numbers craze, the full
picture emerges the way the paintings do, through filling in a detailed background. Robbins
was a designer in Detroit in 1948, doing free-lance artwork such as package designs and
children's coloring pictures for the late Max Klein, owner of Palmer Paint Company.
"The idea was an evolution," Robbins said. "It was a gradual process of exposing this
idea, then that idea, then another. I recalled reading about Leonardo da Vinci, and when he
got large and complicated commissions, he would give numbered patterns to his
apprentices to block in areas for him that he'd go back and finish himself. From there, it
was a matter of proving the concept to see if it could be done."
Although the concept worked, paint-by-numbers was not an immediate hit when Klein and
Robbins, then 24, tried in 1949 to sell kits for Palmer Paint under the Craft Master label.
"In the beginning, we couldn't give them away," Robbins recalled. "It took two years to
get off the ground; then they took off like a rocket."
The original kits Robbins produced were printed on rolled canvas. The first set was "The
Fishermen" and included a canvas stamped with the numbered outline of the scene and gel
caps of oil paint that the home artist set into the palette provided.
After a competing company came out with the version most people recall, light blue
outlines stamped onto white cardboard, Craft Master quickly shifted to the more convenient
system in 1955 to keep the company in business.
"We had thousands of sets, and suddenly we were outdated," Robbins said. "The ones on
canvas are worth a lot more today. Paint-by-numbers memorabilia is selling from $35 to
$125 for an original canvas 1950s one." The original cost was between $1 for an 8-by-10
set called the One-Two-Three to $5 or more for a Masterpiece version.
Paint-by-number kits are a cultural icon of the 1950s, an era marked by Hula-Hoops, Dick
and Jane primers and white-bread America. It was a time when conformity often won out
over originality, and, despite Craft Master's slogan, "The Art of Creative Relaxation,"
critics saw little creativity involved in filling in the numbered blanks.
Robbins defends the lack of artistic expression in painting between the lines, however, by
claiming that the home artists' success at the task encouraged them to try more creative
endeavors on their own.
"We always had a lot of criticism from teachers and people who felt we were taking
advantage of art," he said, "but my feeling was then-and still is-that, during the popularity
of paint-by-numbers, the sale of art materials increased tremendously because people found
that they could (paint by) themselves."
Cultural historian Karol Ann Marling, who wrote a book about the visual sensibilities of
the 1950s called "As Seen on TV," sees the concept as an outgrowth of World War II
hobby-set therapy rather than an indication of conformity. "You could almost call it
supermarket Freudianism," she said. "Dan Robbins was a key designer of these objects
and is the last person left who had any connection with them."
Marling called paint-by-numbers "the most American thing you can imagine in that you
package up everything you need in a box instead of going through lengthy instruction in
how to paint or how to mix colors. It was a personal experience for the painter. It doesn't
make a damn bit of difference if they made a million of these sets; each person had an
individual experience painting them."
Regardless of the degree of creative expression, the concept exploded. At 50,000 kits a day
and had as many as 25 competitors making sets.
After creating the first 30 drawings himself, Robbins hired artists to help him with the
tedious task of making outlines, creating transparent overlays, painting, printing and
proofing artwork. What kept Klein's company at the forefront during that decade, Robbins
said, was the quality of their product.
In 1959, Klein sold Craft Master, which he had set up as a separate company after the
product became so successful. It has since gone through several ownerships; the Toledo-
based Craft House, which is still producing paint-by-numbers, is what is left of Craft
Master through those changes. Tom Pickle, now the director of art development for Craft
House, was hired by Robbins in 1962 and remembers those days as a crazy time.
"We were painting and designing products for the public, trying to cater to their desires for
style and subject," Pickle recalled. "Dan was just terrific, one of those people whose
interest was always in seeing that a good product got on the market. He was a very open,
fun-loving, creative kind of guy who was easy to work with. All the creative projects went
through him. Dan was quite a mentor."
Today Robbins is a congenial gray-mustached gentleman who enjoys sharing his paint-by-
numbers scrapbook: a collection of Craft Master catalogs, clippings from major magazines,
photos and articles based on interviews Robbins gave about the phenomenon. On his
basement studio walls hang completed paint-by-numbers he designed, including a clown
painted onto black velvet.
Robbins' wife, Estelle, recalled the year she was confined to bed during her first pregnancy
in 1952, when she spent her days painting samples for Craft Master to display. "It was a
very exciting time in our lives," she said. Did she see much of her husband once the fad
hit? "As a matter of fact," she said as she shook her head no, "we had a few arguments
about that."
Robbins, who said he was just lucky to be "the right guy at the right time in the right
place," stayed with the company until late 1969, when he moved to Chicago to work for
Wilton Enterprises, which makes cake decorating products; he has since retired. Now 69
years old, he still does free-lance design work and speaking engagements about his legacy
in paint-by-numbers.
Dan Yovich, the founder of The Inventors and Entrepreneurs Society of Indiana, asked
Robbins to speak to his group and said that Robbins was an enthusiastic presenter who had
his audience sitting on the edge of their seats.
"He went through each step as though it were a recipe," said Yovich, who is also a
professor of creative studies at Purdue.
"The trials and errors, the incubation, the playing around, the aggravation, and yet the
passion and risk-taking involved typify any true entrepreneurial pattern."
Yovich noted that paint-by-numbers took off not by direct advertising but by word of
mouth.
"He had something that few projects have, and that's tremendous exposure by people using
the product and then telling others about the craft," Yovich said. "People enjoyed what they
were doing and would tell others.
"That's how I first came to buy it for my own children, because I had heard through a
neighbor that it was a very calming thing for his children."
Although Robbins considers his development of paint-by-numbers to be something that
happened a long time ago, he is also proud of the significant part he plays in American
cultural history.
There are constant reminders of his contribution. For example, when he and Estelle went
recently to see the film "Quiz Show," they immediately recognized the artwork hanging on
a character's wall as one of Robbins' designs.
His Craft Master history also puts him in a curious position: His artwork is recognized
worldwide, but his name is not. It's not his name displayed on those canvases; it's the
home artist's.
"It's really kind of weird that somebody like myself has had thousands and thousands of
people painting these pictures I created," he said.
"But their attitude is, `Look what I've created,' and that's fine. The individuals took pride
in their own creation. It's really their painting."
© 1995, The Tribune Company
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