In case you didn't know, I was and still am, to a lesser degree, an art teacher and artist. To watch my son dig his hands into the bowl of crayon rocks and scratch some marks on paper fills me with such joy and satisfaction.
Now let me be clear. SoJo made some very rudimentary marks, light ones at that. He's no Picasso. Though hopefully he'll retain some of his child-like creativity as he grows up. You might know Picasso's quote, "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up." Anyway.
He was more interested in handling the rock crayons and throwing them on the bed of the guest room/my studio. And jumping on the bed, of course.
But he did do a bit of scribbling, and like any good art teachin' mama, I snapped photos of his intro to art.
There's my craft table, formerly our kitchen table, and the little shelf that I found on garbage day in our alley which holds some of my stuff.
That's one of my paintings above the table, actually a diptych (a two-panel painting).
Can you guess the nursery rhyme it's based on? It used to hang in SoJo's room, my former art space, but I thought it was a bit too imposing to hang in there. Blackbirds flying down and all.
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