Art Appreciation 101

You all know I love art. I love to paint, to draw, to throw pots (duck!), to scrapbook, to decorate cakes and rooms and all sorts of things. I just love to create something and leave my mark and one of my biggest pet peeves is when someone tries to change what I've done. It's not that I believe I'm such a wonderful artist that my stuff is perfect. Not at all- it's that when someone changes what you've done it says that your ideas or view of the world is not as significant as theirs. I'm viciously protective of my kids' opportunities to create what's in their own little hearts. There is nothing so irritating to me as to watch another adult "edit" a child's attempt at creating something wonderful. Let them make a mess! Mixing the paint together doesn't just "make brown muck," it is what teaches them to experiment and to learn how colors mix and blend and change hues. Piling on "too many" bits of this and that helps them to learn how to leave exposed what they want someone to see. The most important part of creating art is the process, not the finished product. Color outside the lines, by all means. Why does a tree have to be a green triangle and a sun have to be a yellow circle with straight perpendicular lines all around? How kids really see the world and the interesting ways they find to express it is so amazing when we pull back and observe.

I wish I had more time and energy to really delve into creating artwork, but for now I steal little pieces of time to satisfy that urge to make something from nothing, and I try to facilitate those opportunities for my kids to have some creative fun. And I spend a lot of time getting inspired and enjoying other artists work. One of my favorite paintings is The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt. Why do I love it? First of all, because it is romantic and reminds me of my hubby. But also for its technical skill, rich colors, interesting textures and mosaic style, and the emotion that is represented. Klimt, during the art nouveau period of the early 1900s, was known for incorporating symbolism into his paintings. Here is a great summary of what the artist represented in this painting:

"The Kiss is a fascinating icon of the loss of self that lovers experience. Only the faces and hands of this couple are visible; all the rest is great swirl of gold, studded with colored rectangles as if to express visually the emotional and physical explosion of erotic love. (Nicolas Pioch)"

Can you imagine how this piece would lose its meaning if someone were to have edited Klimt's ideas for him... "No, no. It's too gaudy, you need to tone it down a little. It's out of proportion. You need more detail in the background. Make their figures more defined- it just looks like a big blob. Maybe you shouldn't even paint a picture of two lovers- that's not proper! Put them in separate beds!" It might be a great realistic/photographic representation of two people lying side by side- but it wouldn't carry the same symbolic strength and emotion as Klimt's original idea.

It is said that art is a means of personal expression. The next time you see a work of art that you enjoy, stop and ponder what it is that draws you to the piece. Then look a little deeper, and maybe you'll find something else the artist intended for you to see. Or maybe you'll find your own meaning! And give your kiddos a chance to express themselves without being "edited" down. Let them wow you with their quirky or moody or whistful or frightening or joyful style- who knows, you may have a future Master painter on training wheels.

Mrs. Brown Thumbs

I'm at it again- attempting to grow something other than giant babies. My first attempt, two years ago, was summed up as a "learning experience." Let's just say that being pregnant doesn't mesh well with gardening duties. I spent more time snoozing on the couch or stuffing my face with graham crackers and chocolate milk than I did actually watering the garden or pulling weeds. I ended up with itty bitty 2" baby broccoli and pencil thin carrots and super spicy-hot radishes that had worms in them (we dubbed them "mexican jumping worms" because they jumped out of the radishes when we sliced them- but they were apparently rootworms). Ironically, the baby ended up 10 lb. 8 oz. Maybe I should have fertilized the garden with chocolate milk and graham cracker crumbs (and macaroni and cheese, and pizza, and coco puffs, and ice cream, and spaghetti, and cookies.)

Then last year it sounded so much more appealing to grow weeds than to even attempt to try a vegetable garden with a newborn, a toddler, a preschooler, a husband, a house to clean, bills to pay, and a tired rear end to plop on the couch (when it got the chance). So my "gardening" last summer consisted of swiping rhubarb and chives from my neighbor's back yard (Tammi: "I have chives?") The boys had fun for a full year, running their Tonka trucks through the weeds and creating roads and rivers in the "mud pit." It made for a lovely time of tilling for Paulo this last month. But my hero tilled it all up for me- by hand, and it was ready to go by the official start of the growing season here in the valley- Memorial Day.

I planted what I've noticed grows well around here- spinach, lettuce, zucchini, carrots, onions (at least I think these might do okay), beets, dill, beans and snow peas. Paulo also bought a few starts- two giant cabbages and two zucchini (what faith he has in me). They're in the ground and being watered well, so we'll cross our brown thumbs and see what happens by the end of summer!

The kids are waiting anxiously for the plants to grow so they can help harvest. Isaiah saw the seed packets and said, "MOM! I didn't know you could grow SAUSAGES!!!" Here's the packet of sausage seeds:

I'm even attempting to try gardening according to the moon cycles... Always plant when the moon is full.

If all goes well, you, too, could be the lucky recipient of a whole bunch of dill and sausage plants.

Love and Adoration.

Baby neck nuzzles, tiny squeeks and sighs, ten perfectly scrumptious toesies, squishy baby bum... A little piece of heaven on earth. Congratulations to my sweet friend, Ali! And isn't she a beautiful mommy?

I love Paul Harvey!

My mom sent this, by Paul Harvey:

We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better.

I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really would.

I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated.

I hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.

It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put to sleep.

I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in.

I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother/sister. And it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he' s scared, I hope you let him. When you want to see a movie and your little brother/sister wants to tag along, I hope you'll let him/her.

I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.

On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your driver to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom. If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one.

I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head.

I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a boy/girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what ivory soap tastes like.

May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.

I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend.

I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma/Grandpa and go fishing with your Uncle.

May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays.

I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through your neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Hannukah/Christmas time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand.

These things I wish for you- tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.

Written with a pen. Sealed with a kiss. I'm here for you. And if I die before you do, I'll go to heaven and wait for you.

Do you haiku?

Driving tad too fast
Bored trooper pulls me over
Donut scented luck

Snowflakes stacking high
Dammit, it's the first of May
Cabin fever reigns

Fat jeans much too tight
Chocolate chip cookies beckon
Where's my seam ripper?

Decibels too high
So hears the mother of boys
Peace and Quiet...Not

Organized, calm mom
How does she do it, the twit?
Locks kids in closet

The Meanest Mother in the World

I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also.

But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two brothers had the same mean mother as I did.

My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute. I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you imagine someone actually hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now you can begin to see how mean she really was.

We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends?

The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.

She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.

By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if I'd had a boyfriend to elope with. I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned mother refused to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen, that is, if you dated only to go to a school function. And that was maybe twice a year.

Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends' report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for nothing less than ugly black marks.

As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out.

My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a million and one other things that our friends did. She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.

Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call me mean. Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world.

Written by
Bobbie Pingaro ©1967

*Mean Mommy agrees, give or take a few points. I don't necessarily advocate beating your child with a belt or squelching the formation of political opinion. But all in all, my goal in life is to be this mean to my boys.

I think it's going rather well. I got complaints from Isaiah at the grocery store last week. He wanted Cookie Crunch cereal and I said no. "MOM! How come you NEVER let us have stuff that's bad for us? You ALWAYS make us eat healthy food! It's NOT FAIR!" I shook my head and said sympathetically, "I know, son. It's so sad." An older woman overheard us and laughed as she walked around the corner. I bet she was mean once, too. Just like my own horrible mother.

This week my boys asked for celery with peanut butter and raisins and a cup of V8 for lunch. I obliged. Then they asked for seconds on the V8. Sometimes... it's good to be mean.

100 things you must know about me for your life to be complete:

1. I love being the mom of 3 boys- I'm the queen of the house.
2. There is a fat woman who steals my pants and hides in my mirror to scare me.
3. I type my thoughts in the air when I'm lost in thought, and my fingers actually move.
4. I find myself having imaginary conversations with people in my day dreams and my face actually makes gestures/expressions as if it's real.
5. My husband calls me Sunshine- and I love it.
6. He serenades me with My Girl and She's Got a Way About Her and Love of My Life.
7. He wrote an original song for me once.
8. I always wanted to marry a man who would sing to me.
9. I used to hate my red hair and wish I looked exotic- like Japanese or Indian.
10. I think firemen are hot. I always blush around them. And my husband thinks it's funny.
11. I think (male) flamenco dancers and lumberjacks are hot, too. He thinks it's weird.
12. I used to spell my middle name Alien instead of Aileen.
13. I used to think horses had udders (hey- I was a little kid).
14. I have never used drugs, or smoked, or drank (except for one sip of champagne when I graduated college and one sip of a mai tai on our honeymoon- gag).
15. I hate the phrase "You're not living up to your potential."
16. My least favorite chores: laundry and dishes. They never end.
17. My favorite chores: Vacuuming (those nice little lines), cleaning windows (ahhhh!), organizing closets and drawers, and baking.
18. I hate the smell of molasses- I have to hold my breath and swallow back the puke.
19. I didn't recognize the smell of real butter in high school, because we always had margarine.
20. My favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip or Baskin Robins peanut butter and chocolate.
21. Carbonated beverages hurt my tummy. So does red meat.
22. I LOVE garlic.
23. I want to have my own gallery showing.
24. I want to be a midwife someday (when I grow up).
25. Car salesmen piss me off. I have never met one I liked.
26. I hate raw onions.
27. When I was younger, I envied my sister's blond hair, athletic ability, and flirtatiousness.
28. I always feel like a wallflower around new people and in crowds.
29. I almost always get agitated around large crowds of people.
30. I love to give speeches. I do not fear public speaking- I think it's fun.
31. I love all colors, but I like yellow because it's sunshiney, and light green because it's soothing.
32. I have a photographic memory.
33. I love the rain forests of the Pacific NW coast- it's one of my ideal happy places on earth.
34. I love Alaska's landscape and feeling like I'm "home," but I wish I could move somewhere warmer and brighter.
35. I'm afraid of the idea of being cremated.
36. I've never had a cavity or broken or sprained anything.
37. I watch too much t.v. and don't spend enough time doing hobbies.
38. I am afraid of turning 37 because of a nightmare I had as a kid.
39. I love driving a minivan and I honestly don't care if people don't think it's cool.
40. I didn't like teaching, because it was lonely.
41. My favorite tea is decaf Market Spice.
42. I love the smell of coffee, but don't drink it.
43. I love the sound of football on t.v., but I don't watch it.
44. I love suspense movies- but not gory or supernatural ones.
45. I know I talk too much.
46. I'm afraid of spiders. I ran screaming out of a pet store once (as an adult) because of a tarantula. It looked at me and hissed my name. I heard it.
47. I want to become a master gardener and be on the tour of gardens.
48. I know I cry a lot, but I can't help it and I don't think it's a flaw.
49. I am stubborn. Sometimes it's a flaw and sometimes it serves me well.
50. I am perfect. My sister tells me so.
51. I love sunflowers and poppies.
52. Every time we go to Costco my oldest son begs to buy me flowers as a "surprise."
53. Hello. My name is Sarah and I am a chocoholic.
54. I have had a recurrent dream, since high school, that the entire world is a giant sphere made up of balance beams and I have to walk on them and jump between them and if I fall I will fall down into the center of the earth in to dark nothingness between the beams. I can interpret that, too.
55. I think I complain too much.
56. I minored in sociology. What's a minor for, anyway?
57. Social studies used to be my favorite subject- but I'm horrible with History.
58. Math used to be my worst subject- but now I'm not so bad.
59. I have always loved art and at one time wanted to be an art teacher.
60. My favorite teacher was Mr. Kirk- and he once ran with the Olympic torch.
61. I read all the time. I check out half a dozen books at once for myself.
62. I know how to play checkers and chess- but not backgammon.
63. I taught my son how to play chess- and he was 5. Maybe he can teach Auntie. ;)
64. Many people have tried to teach me backgammon and I still don't get it.
65. Many people have tried to teach me to knit and I still don't get it.
66. Many people have tried to teach me to crochet and I still don't get it.
67. I get flustered trying to understand directions for sewing patterns.
68. I get overwhelmed by crowded/flashy websites to the point of not being able to read the information I'm looking for. I think I have ADD (without the H).
69. I'm distractable and disorganized.
70. I'm persistent and a perfectionist.
71. I love rain. One of my favorite memories is dancing in it with my sweetie.
72. I hate cleaning up after animals. I am not a pet person.
73. I like to color in coloring books.
74. I sing, loudly, in the car- but not if anyone is with me.
75. I used to be phobic of needles, but I'm okay with them now.
76. I have been to Canada, Mexico, France, Germany (East and West at the time), Holland, Belgium, Poland, and Russia.
77. I have been to Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Texas, Hawaii and WA. DC
78. I have a wish to see all of our country's national parks during my life time.
79. I like brussel sprouts, but not okra.
80. I love seafood- but not sushi.
81. I get itchy rashes from the sun- even if I'm only in it for 2 minutes.
82. I'm a child of former hippies.
83. I have a HUGE head- I like to say it's because it needs to hold a large brain.
84. I have never gotten a ticket.
85. Pet peeves: somebody changing my artwork, people whispering/talking to me about others when they are in proximity, rude customer service people, people who try to burst my bubble, ignorance, meanness, not picking up after oneself (especially littering), people who cuss or smoke around kids, tangled computer wires, tangled bed sheets.
86. I have always wanted to go to Greece, Italy, and Ireland.
87. I have never wanted to go to Africa because I once heard there are groups there who think that redheads are witches.
88. Sometimes I feel witchy.
89. I would never get plastic surgery (unless I was disfigured). Just deal with my "flaws."
90. I don't like attention from men I don't know.
91. As a kid I wrote down and memorized the lyrics to Eye of the Tiger. Don't judge me.
92. As a kid I once called a radio station to ask to hear Jesse's Girl, and the d.j.s laughed at me and replayed the call over the air. And then they never played the song.
93. I have lived in 8 different homes and gone to 9 schools (including college).
94. I used to want to be a pilot, a psychologist, a social studies teacher, an archaeologist, an art teacher, and an architect.
95. I'm horrible at video games and they make me dizzy- once I almost fell out of my seat playing a racing game because I became a little too one with the game.
96. Watching movies that are filmed underwater makes me feel like I can't breath- and I find myself holding my breath.
97. One of the most fun things I've ever done is go sea kayaking in Resurrection Bay.
98. I wish I was a morning person. I am becoming one only out of necessity.
99. I don't know how to burp on purpose.
100. My favorite saying: What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Creator calls the butterfly.

I was tagged by my sister to create this list- now you have fun with it.