Grab Your Camera

You will go downstairs to find your whole living room floor spattered with green paint. In times like these, the best thing you can do for yourself and for your children is to just get the camera. 

You can also teach your children about the artist Jackson Pollock, and add a new verb to your family lexicon: pollocked, as in "The bathroom mirror has been pollocked with toothpaste".

 The next day, I create an environment where my children can play with this new verb, showing them how to "sprinkle" paint with an old toothbrush, then cutting them loose to make a mess of their own design.

 Each painting has its own signature, and reveals the age and personality of each creator.

My son's face has been pollocked by nature, but Margot's has a bit more colour after her artistic explorations. Violet's use of a cotton swab dipped in paint mysteriously results in her bellybutton being full of paint. The messy fun ends with a warm bath, and a reminder that in order to preserve our art, we should splatter paint on paper rather than the floor (towel, sink, etc.). 

Words to take away from this post? Grab your camera. It's saved me from missing out on the fun and spontaneity of childhood many times (when I might have yelled and reprimanded) by encouraging me to document my children's doings and thinking about the clean-up later. These are the moments that will make me smile when they are all grown up and flown from the nest.

Mistakes Made Right: Valentine's Craft

At the arts retreat I attended last week, I took part in a watercolour session where we learned a lot of basic techniques in a short period of time. The amazing local artist who taught the session was full of confidence, praise, patience, and a "so what?" kind of attitude that allowed us to try stuff without fear of doing it "wrong". 

I've always been a high-achiever, and have been hard on myself if I don't like the results of something I've made. I'm growing as the years pass, however, and am learning to create just for art's sake; it's about forgiveness, and a sense of humour, and reinforces my New Year's Resolution to be gentle with myself. 

I was content with the waterscape, but not happy with the results of the birch tree study.

What I took away from Joyce's class was that it's OKAY to not like what you've created. It doesn't negate the experience or the learning that takes place when you just do it, or the joy of just putting a paint-loaded brush to paper.

A few days after the retreat, I decided to just make something I liked out of the birch tree painting. So I cut it up.

 With Valentine's Day just around the corner, I needed something beautiful to hang along my window. I cut the painting up into hearts, then glued them together back-to-back with a ribbon in between.

 My painting looks quite beautiful in its new incarnation, wouldn't you say?

These little hearts hang at varying lengths, and look so pretty against the white backdrop that is our winter landscape.

You don't have to love everything you make, and you certainly don't have to frame it. 

But re-imagining it can bring new eyes to your experience as an artist. Just be brave. Get out the scissors. As Shel Silverstein says, 

“Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-gumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
'Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain't been there before.”

All art needn't be high art. Sometimes it can just be something simple, something beautiful, that you create with your own hands to tape to the window frame. 

GratiTuesday: Art Matters

Once a year I gather with a group of wild women, shy and boisterous, artsy and not-sure-if-they're artsy. We spent a weekend together, teaching each other and learning from each other. Sometimes we share our gifts in formal sessions, and in the quiet spaces between scheduled sessions, we teach each other songs, how to cast on, and how to live with joy.

This year I presented a guitar workshop, as well as a belly dance session. I knit a few more inches on those darn socks that seem like they'll never be finished (I started them at last year's gathering...)

Once again, I was drawn to the drumming workshop. This year, I asked the question that had been whispering at me: can I try the djuns? With the patience and encouragement of that sweet teacher to my left, I had it. 

Her wisest words to me when I kept saying that I have no rhythm, that my husband is the drummer, that I can't coordinate my hands were:

That's the past. Why talk about it anymore?

So. In this present moment, I do have rhythm. I am a djun player, albeit a beginner. 

This retreat stretches the limits of who I think I am, year after year. I come home replenished, confident, and certain that the arts will be the saving grace in this troubled world. I am reminded of the magic that is conjured when women gather together creatively in a place of support and love. 

I am so very thankful.

Big Art

Our easel comes and goes; sometimes it takes up so much space, we tuck it away until it becomes "new" again. I put small ziploc sandwich bags in 125-mL Mason jars; these hold the paint, make clean up easy, and can be zipped for reuse when the painting's done.

With two of my nieces visiting for the week, there was some big art happening around here.

We had to make another round of these, as the originals were all given away and I wanted some for our walls!

Sometimes, when five cousins want to create together, the art gets bigger than originally planned:

It starts out with a green "warlock mountain" with electricity spewing from the top. This electricity traverses the volcano, and across the entire artwork of flowers, a snow scene, a portrait of Persephone, and Violet's "tomato". A request for clarification reveals that this is actually, a tornado. Jude's electricity manifests itself as arrows coming out of his character's head.

The painting goes on for over an hour, with polite requests to pass a particular colour, paper-turf wars, Violet protesting that the electricity went behind her volcano, compliments, and advice.

Great things happen when children are cut loose with paper, paint, and brushes. The bigger the paper and the more the kids, the better!

Mad

A while ago, the dad of the house lost his cool with Jude.

It happens.

Jude is particularly sensitive to raised voices, and although we know it's ideal to be calm and reasonable, we don't always manage that. Daddy raised his voice, and I watched from the sidelines, wanting to step in, but torn between presenting a "united front" and jumping to my child's defense.

When my husband raises his voice, it triggers an old terror in me. Don't get me wrong; our dad never laid a hand on us; he never had to. His raised voice and steely stare were enough to convince us that there would be hell to pay if we didn't do what we were told, and NOW!

When I raise my voice, it is usually with complete exasperation.  The kids barely blink. But when my husband raises his voice, it cuts them to the quick.

It turns out, Jude doesn't need me to explain to my husband how his "mad voice" affects the kids. After the storm had subsided, Jude went to his desk to create this:

 Jude loves to draw this "not allowed" circle-with-a-line-through-it symbols. He put them to good use here, eloquently illustrating his very tall father leaning over him with a mad face. He makes it clear that this is NOT ALLOWED.

 Also not allowed: telling Jude to STOP with a mad face on.

This is the part of the picture that spoke most clearly and spurred my husband to work harder at keeping his cool: a self-portrait of the artist, his ears enlarged as if to say, "I can HEAR you and it hurts my ears (and my spirit) when you shout at me".

No parenting guru could have conveyed the message more clearly. I may take to drawing pictures to express my feelings, too, although I doubt I could capture the simplicity and eloquence of Jude's.

Her Sense of Self

Because she's my third child, I sometimes need to remind myself to marvel at the new things she can do. Her brother, my first, has a box full of early scribbles and paintings, each one dated and tucked away by his proud mama. By the time the third arrived, I was inundated with artistic renderings, shoved in a basket. I regret to admit that I look at some of those "Humpty Dumpty" drawings (round body, arms and legs stuck out at angles) and wonder...which of my children drew this?

But then, she developed an artistic style all her own. She draws her people upside down.

 Always start with the head, as this is where a toddler's consciousness is focussed: the place where information is gathered and processed with eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. . A nose that wrinkles up, and ears that can differentiate between the voices of those that love her.

A mouth that shouts and laughs and sings and murmurs and cries, and eyes that widen in surprise and tear up in an instant of frustration.

 Hair, and cheeks (her latest addition to these people drawings), and nice long legs; she is grounded by those sturdy, useful feet.

 Some longer hair indicates that this is a self-portrait. Arms are long for hugging, and fingers are many to reflect the many wonderful things her little hands can do now.

She looks with pride on her (upside down) creation, and I get a sense that this kid's sense of self is just as it should be.

The kindergarten teacher in me can't resist drawing attention to how she grips her marker; some children do this "tripod" grasp naturally (thumb and forefinger grasping the pencil, with the pencil leaning against that "web" between, supported by the middle finger), and it is considered the best grip for early printing skills. If your toddler grasps the pencil with the whole fist, "scissors" it between the fore-and middle fingers, or seems to have a "strange" way of gripping the pencil, please begin gently correcting their pencil grasp with lots of positive reinforcement; this will greatly benefit them when they are asked to do more than scribble. Thank you, from your child's future teachers!

Opening Act!

We're opening for RON SEXSMITH!

It's crazy exciting for us.

You don't have to come to hear us.

But you DO have to come to hear Ron Sexsmith.

His voice lifts me up and breaks my heart.

Refer to the poster above for more info.

Creating Order

I KNOW I'm not alone in feeling that I work in my house all day, only to have my husband arrive home from work to a house that looks like a bomb went off. These humid days, my hair is in a frizzy halo, my shirt is sweaty and dirty, and I have that incredulous look on my face. I MUST'VE worked all day because I'm exhausted and my feet hurt...but where are the results?

You know what the day is like with small kids: you just go from one disaster to the next, one mess to a bigger mess; they manage to undo in minutes what it takes me an hour to accomplish. It's enough to make you cry, tear your hair out, gnash your teeth, and beat your chest in frustration. Playdough to painting to splashing at the sink to requesting more food to pulling all the books off the shelf in search of the one perfect story...

It is sometimes hard to remember that PLAYING IS A CHILD'S WORK. They really aren't doing this to drive you crazy. It only feels that way. They are impulsive beings, children, and don't worry about the mess they leave behind...they just look ahead to the next fun thing they can get into.

It's taken me years to get to today...to a point where I feel like I have the energy, creativity, and desire to create some order in my house, after years of childbearing and exhaustion. Children ages 2-6 ARE capable of cleaning up after themselves. It works like magic in my classroom; I just start singing "Now it's time to tidy up, tidy up, tidy up, now it's time to tidy up and put our toys away!" (to the tune of London Bridge), and off they go, like little automatons, sorting toys into their appropriate baskets, putting things on shelves, sweeping up sand, carefully stacking blocks, cooperating. I'm amazed, every single day.

The neat thing about a Kindergarten classroom is that everything is at a child's level. They don't have to ask me if they can paint, because the paint is accessible to them at all times. I'm starting to apply the principles behind order in the Kindergarten classroom to my home, to great success (so far)!

I started out by putting all the materials necessary to paint into this yard sale find: a low wooden crate. When Margot asks to paint at 7:30 a.m., I pull out a dollar store palette (at right), fill each little space with a different colour, (naming them with her as I go), and pull a brush from the jar at the left. When she's done, I cover the palette with plastic wrap, and when she inevitably asks to paint AGAIN, I'm all ready to go. This has made an activity that used to make me groan into something quick and painless. Please note that this is NOT at her level; at this point I still want some control over the paint mess! Once the day is over, I clean the palette, and stow it back in the crate, all ready for the next morning's creativity.

Another problem area is the living/play room. A large basket was what we used to store everything, all jumbled together. I'd half-heartedly sort stuff now and then, only to find it all jumbled up in the big basket again. Children do not play well with toys that are a)too numerous and b)too messed up. Since Jude mostly plays at his desk with Lego now, I made up these two baskets (purchased at Giant Tiger!), using white craft paint. One holds all the doll clothes, and small dolls. The other is for play food, dishes, etc. The girls are old enough to sort their toys, and tend to play MORE now that there are LESS toys.

Gratuitous close-up of my dream house...

Another GREAT idea (and one that I used when Jude was two and in speech therapy) was to photograph certain types of toys (e.g. cars, animals, people, blocks), laminate the photos, and stick them onto bins. At two, though non-verbal, Jude was able to find the toys he wanted, and could help put them back in their own place. Sorting is an important skill for early learning, and being able to "help" is so very empowering for little ones.

Playdough is right at my kids' level, so that if they want to play with it, they can grab it. Yes, I bought playdough. Yes, I have a recipe for homemade...I just don't have time to make it, am always out of cream of tartar, and noticed that the storebought kind costs less than two dollars for four colours. Just in case you were going to offer me your recipe...ha!

Workbooks and colouring books are also at my children's level, as are blank paper, markers, and crayons. Scissors and glitter are kept out of their reach.

It takes a bit of time and effort to organise your house for little ones. But once they feel a sense of ownership for their toys and learning tools, they are likely to take more pride in them, which will hopefully lead to more responsibility. I remind my children about how nice it is to know where their things are. I feel that children are capable of reaching a target, as long as they know what that target looks like. If for you it looks like your kids tidying up after themselves, well...they can do it.

They really can...I've seen it with my own eyes. I haven't seen it in my own house yet, but I have hope that by taking little steps like the ones above, my children will start helping me accomplish that of which I dream: a somewhat tidy house at the end of the day.

You need not spend piles of money on fancy storage systems. All of my baskets come from yard sales and Value Village, or Giant Tiger if I find them on sale. Baskets are a pretty way to contain any mess! Be creative, and remember: LESS is always MORE when it comes to toys for your kids. Think quality, not quantity (unless it's playdough...then think cheap and easy!...heehee!)

Art Matters, Part 2

This past month, I spent a weekend at an artistic retreat for women. It was a powerful and empowering experience. There were many moments of bliss, communion, hilarity and discovery. There were a few moments of sadness and grief.

After my grandmother's death and the days that followed, I have found few opportunities to really feel what it means to be without her. My life is busy, as are most women's, and it's hard to schedule in grief because it doesn't always announce itself until the tears are spilling down your cheeks. I found this happening at unusual moments over the weekend, but felt that it was a safe place to just let the tears flow.

Early on the last morning, I dreamt of my grandma. I knew I was dreaming, and knew that I was being given one last opportunity to hug her and smell her familiar scent. I let the hug linger as long as I could, and felt thankful that I could see her this way again. Later in the dream, she appeared to me again, with a smile that carried a message for me: that she wasn't gone, and that I would get to visit with her like this throughout my life.

I woke up with a big smile on my face, and felt peace trickle in to the space where before I'd held only sadness.

Later that morning, I attended a workshop where we created "soul cards", collages of images and words that whispered to us for sometimes unknown reasons. I didn't have a goal in mind when I began, but when I came across a tiny picture of pink nail polish, and one of a bowl containing a string of pearls, I knew that my soul wanted to remember my grandma, Pearl. Meaningful images were plentiful: an apple tree (Violet thinks there are apple trees in heaven), a picture of a house with wings (my parents' house, where grandma spent so many happy moments, and ultimately, her final moments on earth), a tiny playing card, a clip-on earring, a butterfly (representing transformation), and my favourite: an avenue of trees with the sun shining at its end.

This was an incredibly healing exercise for me, and allowed me to record in images and simple words what has been difficult to describe. It is a physical manifestation of my dream, and a daily reminder of the love I held for this woman; the love I HOLD for this woman. I know I will see her again.

You can start by gathering magazines, scissors, and glue, and anything else you think you might use: ribbon, stamps, gemstones, fabric, old jewellery, etc. Use a piece of paper or a Dollar Store canvas as your background. Spend a few moments in quiet thought, then begin. It is meditative just to flip through the magazines, clipping out any images or words that speak to you. It may make no sense to begin with, but eventually you may see a theme emerging. Your soul wants to talk to you! It wants to create. Just go with it, and don't worry about the final results. It is very freeing!

I've started clipping pictures that I think would appeal to my children: aliens, Kermit the Frog, ballerinas, robots, puppies and kittens, hockey players. Once I have a good stack of images, I intend to set them free on a collaging adventure. I'll share the results when I have them!

Resist the urge to overthink the finished product. Enjoy the process!

Art Matters.

There is an artist that resides in all of us. There is also a loud-mouthed critic. Sometimes the voice of the critic shouts down your desire to create. It tells you your art is dumb. It whispers that you should give up, that no one wants to see your art, that you might as well just buy some mass-produced print at Walmart rather than hanging something YOU made on your wall.

I'm close neighbours with my inner critic. But as I get older, I am learning to ignore that voice. I don't intend to sell my art. I don't foist it on friends as gifts that they'll feel obligated to display. I might make a wee picture on a card to be mailed, and am not concerned with what becomes of it once viewed by the recipient.

I used to have lots of fun with watercolours, when I was single and had the time. I painted little things like this:

Thistle-down fairies at play...

This is delightfully tiny, created specifically for this yard-sale frame.

At a recent artistic retreat, I attended a workshop called "Knocking on Hidden Doors". We discussed the images that arise from our subconscious, and the practice of meditating before creating in order to tap into that deep inner stillness for inspiration.

I spent the first hour of the workshop trying to shush my critic. I found myself searching desperately for that deep, symbolic image I would paint. Finally, in surrender, I just started to create. This is what came out:

Each item on the clothesline represents one member of my family (the red Y-fronts are my husband's). Interestingly enough, I realised afterwards that I had SIX items of clothing on there, instead of five...

Art does not always need to represent something. And sometimes, when you think it doesn't, it does. These two images represent what is most important in my life: my home (gardens and animals), and my family. They are simplistic and whimsical, and bring me pride and delight each time I look at them. I may see about getting them printed on notecards, I like them so much!

Hush up, inner critic. I'm going to create in spite of you.