Coloring Outside the Lines

My love for the arts and the creative process began at a very early age--long before developing significant expertise. Aside from playing sports, it seemed like I spent every spare moment drawing. By the time I hit first grade, fellow students were offering me their lunch money for drawings. I received awards, notoriety, and adulation. Yet these were not masterpieces by any stretch of the imagination. Nevertheless, each was an honest stretch. Actually, I wish I had more surviving remnants from that prolific era between the 1st and 8th grade. (seen above)

Nonetheless, I’ve had the privilege of seeing my own children progress through similar stages, rekindling that original love and perspective. My eldest is already a gifted artist, the second is equally amazing with a remarkable sense of perspective, number three makes the cutest stylized caricatures you’ve ever seen, and number four has the most amazing sense of color that I’ve encountered. Although my youngest can’t even lift a pencil yet, I look forward to those magical days, when first scribbles awaken the wonder of creation within. So it is, I learn anew the lessons of old.

Art Lessons

My child, she likes to draw for me

She knows her fathers praise

And with each stroke draws closer

To my adulation's gaze

“Come on, come dad, come, look and see!”

My awes anticipates

To lift her far above the light

Of love of self awaits

Each stroke is lined with quivered hand

Unsure in shape and form

Yet nonetheless and earnest stretch

In every motion born

Beginning marks the confidence

As later strokes define

Constrained then bold emotions flowed

Expressed and inner kind

“That’s beautiful, my love! Oh my!”

“Again, and show me more!”

And so my daughter teaches me

What art is really for

To give without self-consciousness

To strive and do one’s best

What father wouldn’t praise such work

Its beauty manifest

I too in life have scribbled some

To craft my soul for praise

Yet what I lacked in skill

Perhaps made up in other ways

Like many young artists, once upon a time I strove for realistic perfection. In later years I saw things differently. In fact, one could argue that the real virtue of creativity does not lie in the medium, nor in conventional expertise. Indeed, many skilled artists return to rudimentary expression after their expertise reaches its zenith. Why is this? Why do prodigies like Picasso often choose abstract motifs? Why did the great impressionists shed detail and realism for visual impact? What is that enigmatic quality which the most gifted seek to express? Perhaps each has a different reason and vision, and maybe that is the point. All I know is, “when you rediscover the love of color, it will take you back outside the lines.”