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."
...
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."
...
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?