I heard
my first Christmas advertisement for the year yesterday. REALLY?
At first I was
appalled, and engaged in a grumble fest aimed at marketing to children, and the
ensuing requests parents will endure so soon after the beginning of school.
Electronics, games, toys…it seems the list is endless. As I let that energy
drive my brush hand, memories flooded my mind of a Christmas past. There was a
gift that changed my life, and was a portent of who I was to become. You won’t see a lot of advertising for this
gift, and that’s a shame. Let me tell you about my personal experience with
this gift. It’s a kicker. It changes lives. It’s art.
As a
child, art was never a topic that was discussed within our home. Of course the obligatory
crayons, and the occasional coloring book, filtered into my life. But more wondrous, was the receipt of a “miraculous” paint book. This came to me as a
Christmas gift from a relative. Simple drawings with little dark speckles
graced the pages of this amazing gift. A brush was attached to the binding.
Simply dipping the brush in water, and stroking over the speckles, awakened a
burst of color that leeched from the specks and created a painting. Yahoo! I
was beside myself. I could barely wait for one page to dry before I started on
the next. I think I completed that entire book in one day. I begged for another,
and was told, “No, it was a gift”. That was my first, and last, exposure to
paint for a very long time.
In
retrospect, I understand. I had been born into a post-depression era, New
England family. Remembering the hard times, and preparing for them to come
around again, was the focus. Keeping the budget, pinching pennies, and
purchasing nothing that wasn’t an absolute need, drove the dynamic of the
family. Early on, my mother had forbid me to use her grocery list steno pad to
draw on. Paper was too expensive. Later in life, I was made aware that my
father resented the fact that public monies were used to create galleries and
museums that only the wealthy could afford to visit. No, art was not something
you expressed an interest for in my home. Everything about it was useless, or
wasteful, or unattainable. I’m certain they never considered all the
possibilities art held as a lucrative vocation.
Once I entered elementary school, the emphasis
on art seemed to be focused on holiday-themed bulletin board creations. Every
classroom had a bulletin board, and there were several scattered about the
hallways. I never knew exactly how the “artistic” students were selected to
participate in the design and creation of the hallway displays; I just know I
was never among the selected few. Middle school offered one semester of art
instruction. I thank you Mr. McCarthy, for your singular validation of my
potential.
High
school blurred by, marriage, children, jobs…life happened. I did what I had to
do to get by. Then, about a decade ago, while out for a stroll, I passed a
little shop offering “One-Stroke” classes. I registered and took perhaps a
dozen classes. That long-forgotten, fascinating sensation overtook me once
again. The rest, as they say, is history. It is also my present, and hopefully,
my future. Art completes me.
So, when
you hear those ads telling you what a child on your list really wants, take the
path less traveled. Make this the year you open a door in a child’s mind. Take
them to a museum, register them for an art class, buy them a camera, a loom, a paint
box, or simply crayons and paper, lots of paper! Talk to them about Walt
Disney, Pixar, web design, architectural design, or any of the current, great,
art opportunities out there. Make them aware that a drive to create is a good
thing. Let them know you support them, encourage them. Give them the gift of
looking inside, and expressing themselves with unique creations. Yours could be
the most important gift they will ever receive. Just imagine!
Love from my studio,
Marilyn
