Miles and Amelia went to the Museum of Children’s Art to try their hands at painting. Michael the painting gorilla got nothing on them. So joyful. The era of refrigerator art has begun. Miles also got his first haircut recently – bittersweet to let go of original curls. He’s not a baby anymore – he’s a little boy.
Music: Burning Spear :: Any River
I find it fascinating to watch a nearly blank canvas (metaphorically) fill a blank canvas (literal). Unteathered by knowing how something “should” be drawn.
Sometimes I look at drawings my parents saved or my kids drawings. I then try to think back to when I did them. My original perception of my art was that it was perfect. I remember feeling frustrated when my parents would ask what it was, it was so obvious to me. So why do the drawings look like scribbles now? My perception is no longer my own, it is influenced by the perception of others. That sucks, or does it? Did that make any sense? I’m gonna stop writing now.