- Kids making art = quiet house.
There are many things I hope to successfully teach my kids. Be kind to others, eat your vegetables, read much. Listen carefully, make eye contact, have a firm handshake.
Right now, it seems, we’re in the tedious “don’t hit” and “don’t yell” stage; but during those rare little sunbreaks of awesome, I try to teach them to experience the world with a creative mind.
Draw what you see.
Draw what you don’t see.
Listen to people’s stories.
Make up your own stories.
Learn about history.
Make your own history.
Sometimes, this comes back to bite me. My son, easily obsessed, made so many origami balloon boxes one month, we couldn’t walk through his room. There is not one paper surface that hasn’t been claimed by a doodle or inexplicably cut up and glued to something else. My daughter’s clothes never match. Our living room is an endless blanket fort.
My son, at age eight, has notebooks filled with comics he’s drawn and written. Hilarious dialogue between characters real and imagined. One-liners like, “Oh, it’s on.” that belie his young age.
He has a pencil-top eraser named Rango that he’s created an entire world for using found things like bottle cap tables and matchbox couches.
He says he’s going to be a writer when he grows up, and I believe him.
I love how he changes the scale between cels.
My daughter draws constantly. Right now, it’s mostly cats and little girls with curlicue bangs. Last summer though, she had a nightmare that the Capitol Building came to life; the next day we packed up our pencils and sketch pad, headed downtown and sat across from the capitol so she could draw what she’d seen in her dream.
A work in progress.
They are pretty amazing little human beings.