When I was little, I thought painting and drawing were a type of magic. I wanted to learn. Learn to draw books made the top of my Scholastic book order lists. While I attempted the instructions, my drawings were always a little wonky compared to the ones in the books. Tracing the finished products worked much better.
Every Christmas when we did our name exchange, I asked for paints, a simple tray of watercolors would suffice, but one of those plastic yellow Crayola organizers with the places for watercolors, crayons, markers, and poster paints (oh my heart!) would have made my Christmas. My mother must have learned something I have not yet learned with my own daughters. (I would have been careful, I promise!) She whispered “markers” to every person who received my name. Paint equals mess. I have glitter paint stuck to the dining room floor and red nail polish splattered on the bathroom wall.
But my children have a fantastic art teacher who exposes them to all manner of techniques and styles. They’ve emulated the movement in Starry Night and created their own Blue Dogs.
Each year they bring home a thick portfolio of projects from which I can pick and choose for our home walls.