As much as I’d like to write something really important, some sharp thinking of mine, something that cuts deep when you read it, I’m in a bit of brain-muddle at the moment. A little too lazy to go upstairs and fetch the book I want to quote sometime. A little too busy with normal life to philosophize on something abstract. So I’m going to talk about kid art and how it’s hanging all over my house.
My three kids like to paint and draw and create. They often do this just for the fun of it. My son likes to make things look real, and my daughters like to play with colors and textures and ways to apply paint. All three of them like seeing their artwork on the walls. In fact, they don’t like to see their work go on the fridge because “then Mom will throw it away.” Very true. A magnet slips, a drawing of a cat slides to the ground, I stealthily pick it up and recycle it. So we have kid art on the walls. At first, I didn’t like the idea. I love art on the walls. But I love to pick what art goes on the walls. I like creating an atmosphere, or something like that. When my daughter hung her red house with blue smudges all around it, cut into some sort of strange polygon shape, directly over my husband’s side of the bed, I didn’t like it. I resolved to remove it within a few days. A month or two later, it’s still there. And I kind of like it. It’s cheerful, direct, naive. It reminds me of the artist. There’s definitely stranger things hanging on museum walls.
Maybe I’m sharp enough for a cutting thought after all. Here it is: I’m learning things about art from my kids. They are the next generation of artists (and indeed my youngest wants to be an artist when she grows up). Their art might not be worth much money, but that’s not what art should be about anyway. It’s about exploration, growing in your own process, creating something you want to share with the world. Or at least with Mom and Dad. In the prime wall space above their bed, which is reflected in the mirror across the room. She really has a good sense for location:)