Today we attended a child's birthday party (great party; thanks!) held at a local museum of modern art.
Participants were handed a canvas, a tray of paints, and some yarn for creating resist-work; and given some basic instructions.
Children were handed a small canvas. Adults were handed a large canvas.
I stared at that canvas and couldn't figure out what to do with it.
Mind you, I am the art teacher and the free spirit and the etc. etc. but before I use up something fancy like a huge stretched canvas I like to have a plan for what to do with it.
I took one of the small canvases, which seemed better proportioned to under an hour of winging it.
I was explaining this to a friend sitting next to me.
"Yes," put in mine host; "my wife asked the museum staff whether the canvases for children weren't rather small; and they said that children tend to be intimidated by larger canvases and would enjoy the small ones better."
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I would like to see some information on the average age at which children cease to be intimidated by large canvases -- and what causes that transformation.
If, indeed, that particular transformation ever takes place. There were plenty of adults (no children) who declined to paint at all: "I have no artistic talent."
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I am reminded of a certain historical reenactor who once wrote that whenever she visits a historical site, she instinctively looks for the servants' entrance.
What makes us become the lords and ladies of the manor, and the users of large canvases?
This brings to mind the exercise I did with a class of teenaged girls in a Jewish school. I introduced the exercise thusly: "People always say to me, 'You are so creative! How can you live with a religion that has so many rules?' So let's see if we can answer that question." I gave each girl six pastel sticks, red, yellow, blue, purple, green, orange; and a sheet of paper. "Draw a picture," I said, "You have one minute." They drew childish flowers and houses. I collected the drawings and passed out a second round of blank paper. "Draw a picture of a dream or of a meal you like, and use only three colors. You have one minute." I collected those pictures and passed out a third sheet of paper. "Draw a picture. You have one minute." Then I asked the girls, "Did you feel most creative when you made the first drawing, the second, or the third?" The answers vary. Try it yourself. In MY long life of making things from found materials and filling notebooks with sketches, I find that nothing is more inhibiting to creativity than a blank expanse. SOMETHING has to give shape to your ideas and artistic urges - a deadline, a limitiation, something you haven't done before and want to try . . . in other words, RULES.
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