Artist at Work

I had high hopes for Sahsez' first proper summer vacation.  We would go to the beach and the library several times a week.  She would learn to swim properly.  She would not only read a lot of books, but start a weekly podcast on the books she'd read.  She'd practice the piano and do her chores every day.  She'd expand her cooking repertoire.  She'd learn to identify a few more birds.  Oh, and we'd have friends over all the time.

As the summer progressed, however, it became clear that not one of these things was going to happen.  We didn't visit our neighbourhood beach one time, except in the evening, with Tobias.  She didn't podcast, practice piano or cook anything.  Her swimming still leaves a lot to be desired.  She did her chores, but not religiously.  She learned to identify chickadees, provided that when she's identifying them, there are no other types of birds around.  We had a pitiful number of playdates (HATE THAT WORD).  She did read a lot, usually in her pajamas, usually at a time when pajamas are not strictly appropriate, and usually Calvin and Hobbes. 

So, last Friday, I was feeling like a bit of a failure and in a last-ditch effort to give the poor child some summertime enrichment before school starts next Tuesday, I signed her up for a three-day Jackson Pollock-themed art camp at a local arts academy.  She had the option of doing either a three-hour camp or an 80-minute camp and, since she was a little timid about the whole thing, she opted for the shorter one.  I don't mind as it saves us some cash and means I only have to wait around for an hour and a bit with the baby, rather than the whole morning.

This is what she looked like when I picked her up today.  The motto of the class was "Throw paint!" and by the looks of the kids afterward, they took their motto pretty seriously.  Her face, neck, hair, shirt, trousers, socks, shoes, and hands were spattered with many different colours of paint.  I was excited about the class because I'm always torn between my desire to let her express herself creatively and my desire to not spend all my waking hours scrubbing the walls and spraying Shout on paint-spattered clothes and with the art school taking the hit messwise I figured both of my wishes would be granted. 

And it worked out the way, for the most part.  The only snag was that Sahsez didn't exactly get all of her painting ya-yas out at the class, and was still in the mood when we got home.  So, I set up her easel on the back porch, gave her a little lecture about how, while we certainly want her to feel free to paint anything she wants, Mummy and Daddy would really not like it if the back porch ended up looking like the inside of the studio she had just been working in. 

She followed the rules pretty well, but still used some pretty flamboyant motions to get the paint on the canvas.  I've read that watching Pollock paint was sort of like watching someone perform a dance, and Sahsez was imitating that a bit.  Her brother just ate it up.  Every time she would stab at the paper with her brush, he would crack up.  Well, of course he would.  He thinks she's hilarious when she's breathing.  He wasn't in a great mood when we got home, but happily watched his big sister paint for about 45 minutes, giggling the whole time. 

When she was done, we took Sahsez' four new works, titled "Os", "Hard Artist", "Alive" and "Stories", and taped them up in the hallway.  Then, Sahsez made a little card for each one, with her name, the name of the work, the medium (watercolour on paper), the date, and an artist's statement.  Once that was done, I stood smiling in the hallway, looking at her little exhibit and feeling satisfied that at least I did one proper thing with her this summer.

The accompanying photo album for this entry is here.