Sharing Wonder: Looking at Art Books With my Daughter

 

"What we need is more sense of the wonder of life

and less of this business of making a picture."

 --Robert Henri, The Art Spirit

 

We are looking at paintings by one of my favorite artists, Pierre Bonnard.

We are looking at paintings by one of my favorite artists, Pierre Bonnard.

Parenthood is all-consuming; it’s the kind of thing you need to embrace wholeheartedly, or suffer in futile resistance.  Your passion for your children and your passion for your art appear to compete with each other, and it can feel painful.  Maybe this is your struggle.  If so, take heart.  There is a middle path, a path of wonder.  

For the past year, my 8-year-old daughter Nell has been getting up very early in the morning to spend time alone with me while the others are still asleep.  We creep downstairs together quietly and I make some tea and coffee.  Then I let Nell choose one of the many big art books on my bookshelf, stuffed with full-color reproductions of beloved paintings.  And then we sit, slowly turning the pages, talking about our favorite artists, snuggled under our blankets, until the boys came downstairs wanting breakfast.

Nell's favorite painting by Georgia O'Keeffe, Red and Orange Hills, 1938

Nell's favorite painting by Georgia O'Keeffe, Red and Orange Hills, 1938

Lately, those mornings are fewer and fewer, as I’ve been trying to fit in some morning exercise for myself.  But we try to have at least one morning a week when we connect in this special way.  It’s wonderful for me to see the paintings through her eyes, to ask her what it is about the paintings that speaks to her soul.  Her fresh perspective invigorates my own understanding of each artwork, and gives me new inspiration.  I am always learning, and my appreciation of art is always growing wider.

In his book The Art Spirit, Robert Henri asks us not to focus so much on "this business of making a picture," or, as I understand it, the egotistical idea that as an artist, I am defined and valued by my material production of Art.  Instead, Henri calls for us to cultivate our "sense of the wonder of life."  This wonder is the real mark of an artist, and who can help us more in our quest for wonder than the children who share our lives?

Generous Permission

”Nothing redeems but beauty, its generous permission, its gorgeous celebration of all that has previously been uncelebrated.”  --Dave Hickey, The Invisible Dragon  

I’m so excited about the next two years.  I can’t contain myself!  Here is what is happening with me:  I have been a stay-at-home mom, devoted to raising my two wonderful children for nearly 9 years, and they started school this week:  both of them!  (kindergarten and 3rd grade)  It has been a long time since I didn’t have a little one at home all day.  Suddenly, I will have the hours between 8:30 am and 3:30 pm all to myself.  It couldn’t come at a better time. 

For the past year, I have been on fire, fiercely, in my soul.  I am an artist!  I want to paint!  I need to paint!  Of course, I have been painting all along, squeezing it in wherever I can, but now the doors are opening.  And I am so ready.

Several months ago, I was surfing the internet, cruising around looking at artist-residency opportunities, and fantasizing about packing my bags full of paint brushes and canvas and moving to Italy, to immerse myself in painting.  After a few days of this, Ian, my patient, loving, albeit somewhat startled husband, started to protest.  In his opinion, abandoning my own family in pursuit of Art was not my best course of action.  “Why not have an artist residency here?” he asked.  “It could be a mom-housewife-artist residency.  Let’s call it a two-year residency, and then we’ll have a meeting at the end of the two years, and plan our next steps.”

"Father and Son," oil on canvas, 11x14''

"Father and Son," oil on canvas, 11x14''

And so, Ian gave me generous permission to go for it, to really work on what I am passionate about, without worrying about money.  And it will be work.  I intend to WORK.  In the most joyful, most enthusiastic, most exhausting sense of the word.  For the next two years, I have been given this generous permission to pursue my passion to the hilt.  As with all artist-residencies, I do have to uphold my side of the deal.  In this situation, I have to keep the house from completely decomposing into the ground, feed my family, and meet the kids when they get off the bus.  No problem!  I don’t plan to win any housekeeping awards, but certain mediocre standards will be upheld.  (However, I do have high standards for loving my family and being a good mother, so I will be vigilant to make sure that doesn’t slacken.)

In the meantime:  Art!  It’s not really Ian who has given me this generous permission.  I am giving it to myself, by speaking up about what I need, by listening to my heart, and by valuing my vocation as more than a selfish hobby.  Instead, it is the life-blood of my existence.  And I would like to give you, dear reader, the same generous permission.  Redeem your life, take up your paintbrush, your pencil, your camera, your monologue, your artistic weapon of choice, and follow me into this awesome battle, to slay our monsters and conquer lands that until now have only been in our dreams.

Stay tuned.  Every Wednesday I will write an art-related blog post to encourage, inspire, intrigue, amuse, or surprise you.  May my blog be “a glorious celebration of all that has previously been uncelebrated.”

"Roses for my Mom," oil on canvas, 9x12''

"Roses for my Mom," oil on canvas, 9x12''