What a Dinosaur Art Exhibit Taught Me About Contrast: Using Detail Variation to Create Memorable Visuals

The Allure of Dinosaurs Beyond Fossils

I recently visited the “Dinosaur Encyclopedia” exhibition held in Ueno, Tokyo. Every spring, I make a point of attending the fossil-focused dinosaur exhibits there. Even in my mid-50s, the fascination I had with dinosaurs as a child hasn’t faded one bit.

Fossils are usually the stars of these shows—massive, sculptural, and awe-inspiring. So an exhibit centered on dinosaur illustrations felt refreshingly different. Normally, I wouldn’t be drawn to a gallery of dinosaur paintings. But this wasn’t just any collection—it featured the original artworks we’ve all seen in dinosaur encyclopedias since childhood. That alone made it a rare and exciting experience.

I also learned a new term: “paleoart”—the artistic reconstruction of prehistoric life. The exhibit featured around 150 pieces from around the world, and what struck me most was their authenticity.

The works of renowned paleoartists like Charles R. Knight and Zdeněk Burian weren’t just scientific diagrams—they pulsed with life. Even today, reconstructions of dinosaurs continue to evolve. The Tyrannosaurus depicted in Jurassic Park, for example, is now considered outdated. So it’s no surprise that 19th-century illustrations look strange to modern eyes.

Still, I resist the urge to mock those early attempts. Despite limited data and cultural constraints, those artists conveyed the mystery and majesty of dinosaurs. Imagining the thrill those images must have sparked in their original viewers makes me feel a bit envious.

Among the many compelling pieces, a few stood out for a shared trait: contrast.

How Varying Levels of Detail Create Impact

One painting of a sauropod—a long-necked, long-tailed dinosaur with a small head—caught my attention. It’s a famous image, widely reproduced in dinosaur books.

When I leaned in to examine it closely, I noticed something fascinating: the tiny head was rendered with extraordinary precision, far more detailed than the rest of the body. Though it was an oil painting, the head looked like it had been drawn with a pen.

I spent eight years in a painting studio as a child—not so much learning technique, but admiring the work of older students while I sketched dinosaurs nonstop. One lesson I absorbed was that a painting’s impression from a distance matters more than its up-close accuracy.

Even in elementary school art class, I’d step back a few meters to evaluate my work. That helped me decide where to add detail.

The result was often:

• Realistic from afar
• Rough up close

I considered this a valid style, and it worked—I won awards at every annual exhibition.

But the dinosaur painting with its hyper-detailed head offered a deeper kind of appeal. That’s where contrast comes in. Even if the artist had rendered the entire body with equal precision, it wouldn’t have had the same impact.

By focusing detail on expressive areas—like the face or fingertips—the artist created a visual focal point. That’s the power of contrast.

And I realized this principle applies beautifully to filmmaking.

Applying Contrast to Film Production

As a filmmaker, I’m always thinking about cost efficiency. To express what I want within limited resources, I cut corners where I can. Or to put it bluntly: I deliberately choose where to “slack off.”

This mindset doesn’t sit well with creators or critics who believe every part of a work deserves 100% effort. But realistically, unless you’re Tom Cruise, that’s not possible.

For amateur filmmakers like us, the first priority is:

• Realizing the scenes we truly want to make

If we can’t bring our passion scenes to life, what’s the point?

The second priority is:

• Entertaining the audience—even just a little

That’s a tall order. If someone found Indiana Jones boring, how do you win them over? A more realistic goal might be: leave enough of an impression that they don’t feel their time was wasted.

This is where contrast becomes useful.

Specifically, vary the amount of time and energy you invest in each scene.

In my experience, scenes fall into two categories:

• Passion scenes (the ones you really want to make)
• Functional scenes (needed to support the story)

The latter are “necessary evils.” If you can produce them efficiently—without dragging down the overall quality—you can redirect your energy toward the scenes that matter most.

That contrast will leave a stronger impression on viewers.

If you try to give every scene equal attention, you risk creating a technically solid but emotionally forgettable film.

So don’t be afraid to prioritize. Let your passion scenes shine.

Hope this was helpful.