This morning I was out on the beach very early. There is something very magical about a sunrise along our eastern coast. Ordinarily, I would be sipping coffee on the front porch but this morning the sky was glorious and the ocean was powerfully majestic. I took my easel and paints and my favorite folding stool down to the edge of the water. I was mixing colors and sipping coffee when the first youngster passed by. Pretty soon I had a gathering and to be honest I had become so distracted that I lost interest in painting.
As the day went on — I had folded my gear and returned to the house — kids starting showing up to enjoy the porch swing and to chat. Several younger children — between the ages of 6 and 8, I am guessing — were full of questions about painting. By noon, their parents had called them inside for lunch. It didn’t take long for the kids to return. In fact, I did a little child-sitting while some of the neighboring moms went to the market.
Don’t ask me what made me decide that we could set up a few easels for the younger kids and they could paint a picture for their bedrooms. I had a bunch of almost used up oils so we put them in a pile for the kids to use. Needless to say, I didn’t have enough palettes to go around so we cut a hole for thumbs in several styrofoam plates and created our own palettes.
The kids were not bashful for the most part. We selected different spots along the shore for each to use as his landscape inspiration. As each began to paint, the only instruction was to paint what he or she saw and how he or she say it. You know, perspective is a one of those things that is carried over to vision, not just thinking and ideas. Anyway, one of the kids seemed to have a real knack for a folk art style. Another showed tendencies toward Impressionism. Needless to say we had one Cubist. Well, we don’t all see alike and that is what makes painting and art what it is. Art is the artist’s vision — if he is true to himself.
I have to tell this little story on myself. I was just beginning to experience the thrill of painting — way back when. I had dabbled for some time, but I had never really considered creating a little studio. That was my husband’s idea. Anyway, my first real painting was a rather large masterpiece. (Surely, I jest.) Anyway, it was a pretty good sized canvas. Someone happened into the Haitian art gallery I owned and noticed that I was in the back painting. I did that to amuse myself when business was slow. The couple asked if they could look and I motioned them on back.
Well, as they left the store after buying some art — not mine, but Haitian metal art — I heard the man say to the woman that my painting looked like “a first grader.” Well, I have to tell you that I was a little more than disheartened. But, within a day or so, an artist friend whose opinion I respect told me that I should paint for myself and not for profit. I had never thought of making a profit from my work and was surprised that he had even mentioned that part of it. Anyway, a conversation followed and I fell in love with painting. Here’s the thing. I paint for myself. I paint what I see. And, I have now realized that we don’t all see alike.
Anyway, I was a little skeptical about showing my work to anyone, although I thoroughly enjoyed the creative activity. Remember that “first grade” picture? Not more than a week passed following that comment when a gentleman came into the gallery, happened to catch a glimpse of the painting and offered me several hundred dollars for it. I smiled, thinking he must like first graders. We became friends over the next few years, so I had occasion to go to his home for a dinner one evening. There were some thirty guests and right there on his wall in the living room was my huge first masterpiece. That was a real shock for me. What was more shocking was that people were looking at it and saying very complimentary things about it. Lots of people must like “first grader” pictures.
So, to the point. I am an old bird who almost gave up one of the great joys in my life, because someone hinted that my talent is — shall we say — lacking. I realize that my style and techniques have evolved over the years and today I don’t give a rat’s @ss if anyone likes or dislikes my work. It is mine and it is as I see it. Kids are not so tough as older folks. Their feelings get hurt easier. And, the little things you say to them — good or bad — stay with them for a lifetime. Usually, they remember the negative comments. If you want to think about that for a minute, take your time. I bet your parents told you that you could do something well and perhaps you pursued it and enjoyed the pursuit. But, think about all those things you wanted to do and your parents suggested that maybe you didn’t do it as well as others or you shouldn’t even try in some instances.
Well, today, this little fellow was painting a picture of a sand dune and a wind shaped oak tree in the distance. To be honest, I was more than impressed with his vision. He had captured the shape of the tree magnificently. It was clear that he understood the effect of the wind over the years. Now, he may not know he captured that, but he has an eye for art that showed me movement over time.
So, here comes his mother, who obviously wants her son to see the world as a picture perfect place at the ripe old age of 6. Her first comment was that she was so happy he had the opportunity to paint today. I think she said something to the effect that he had been asking her for a paint set for almost a year and she did not want to waste her money on something he couldn’t do. Well, now…. I am sure the readers know where I am going. How do you know what you can or can’t do unless you give it a whirl?
That part went well. It was probably when she began picking the picture apart, telling her son that the tree leaves should be green and the tree looked a little “lop-sided” that I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side. She was talking to a child, for heaven’s sake. And, no — the kid got it right. The tree leaves are not exactly green. And, the dang tree is lop-sided from years of wind and stormy weather beating it.
I know there are times when I need to bite my tongue. today may have been one of them, but I could not watch this young mother tear her son’s picture and dream apart with criticism. Oh, I know she was well meaning and only trying to help him see the tree she saw, the way she saw it. But, perhaps, it was her explanation to me that she did not want her son to “waste time” doing something he isn’t good at. As a follow up she doesn’t want him to become disappointed. (I hated to be the one to tell her that life is full of disappointments. It’s how we deal with them that counts.)
But, here’s the big one! She says he has “tendencies” to do things that are creative or “artsy.” Okay. But, she does not want him to venture there because his dad is an engineer and boys should direct their focus early in life. Oh, please.
Thank God Picasso and Monet never listened to early critics. Anyway, the kid’s mother tried to recover her previous comments to the youngster, but I think they kind of went by him anyway. All the other kids were making so much of his picture that maybe his little ears did not hear the reasons why he should not paint.
Well, I am thankful for the wonderful gift I received today. I discovered youngsters full of vision and full of creativity. Sometimes, we — as parents — try to guide our kids to what makes us comfortable, to what we would have them do with their lives. Sometimes we try to live our cast aside dreams through our children’s lives. We try to make them into the people we wish we had become. Today, I am so thankful for a few kids with wonderful vision, who all see the same thing from a different perspective. From one beach shoreline today, five kids painted five different visions of what they saw. Maybe there is hope for the future.
By the way, as parents and grandparents we need to continue to fight for art and music in our schools. Kids who have good art and music backgrounds have an advantage in all other areas of education. Check that one out for yourself.
