Starving Artist, gotta make my nightly ramble short this time, but wanted to touch upon something before I log off for a while:
Yes. I think it takes more imagination and skill to know what to take out of a painting or picture. I love doing deeply (scary-deeply) detailed works, but I also love doing the loose, “elegant” (for lack of a better word) works that are lighter and looser (and thank you for your kind compliments on my work!). 
I think it takes imagination to understand that this line can go, but that can stay. Or this brush stroke can represent so much more than a million fussy detailed ones can.
Not to say that I don’t love scary realism, because I do. But I love the impressionistic look. It’s genius, in my mind.
Another tale (before I log off) I’d like to relate (since I’m such a windbag): Years ago I took two semesters of drawing under Burne Hogarth, who was sort of a legend for many artists. Some of us in the class were typical nobodies, but since it was The Master we are talking about here, big name artists came out of the woodwork to attend his class. I remember the guy who wrote the “Rocketeer” comic books (that later became the movie) was there, and also some guy who did art for Disney and was featured in the TV Guide was there. It was a pretty impressive set of students.
I was a typical student—not crappy, but not outstanding (I held my own), and I was so awed and thrilled to see these others students in Hogarth’s class. They were really fantastic. But after a while, I discovered that just because I was a “nobody” and they were “somebody,” it didn’t mean I had no strengths and they had no weakenesses. For instance, the Disney big shot guy (who was the sweetest guy ever) had trouble with faces. He couldn’t get them looking right. During a lecture on how to draw the face, Hogarth pointed Mr. Disney-Big-Shot to my drawing, to show how it was supposed to be done. (And Mr. Disney-Big-Shot was keenly interested in learning and not at all resentful.) Did that mean I was better than Mr. Disney-Big-Shot? Of course not. But it just meant that I had a strength there.
Another guy had this fabulous rendering technique—so smooth, so slick, so polished—I loved his work. Then I realized one day that while I loved his work, there was nothing actually wrong with my looser, more animated, crosshatchy drawings either. They were just different. And this same guy (Mr. Smooth-Rendering) showed that sometimes, he was just a little too rigid and stiff in his understanding of things.
I don’t know exactly what the significance of this tale was, other than to say that just because you feel like a “newbie” at times, it doesn’t mean that you don’t have innate strengths. And, just because someone else is an “established” big shot, it doesn’t mean that their work is flawless. And that, I suppose, you should NEVER assume that just because you are a “lowly newbie” that you have nothing to be proud of, or to feel confident about. And, yeah. Sometimes it’s better to be you, instead of Mr. Big-Shot. For instance, as much as I loved Mr. Smooth-Rendering’s stuff, I realized that I loved it because it wasn’t something I could do, or would do. In reality, I didn’t want to draw like Mr. Smooth-Rendering. I just admired his work.
Yes, I’ve heard of WetCanvas, and occasionally post over there. (I don’t use the same username and tend to try to keep the two personas separate, but email me if you want to know my username and I’ll meet you over there sometime!) 
Okay, enough rambling for now.
I like to tell people about it just to emphasize that we all have our strengths and weaknesses.