Reading time: 2 minutes
In Kindergarten we spent a lot of time with crayons, paint, paper, paste, and scissors. This was the time when I felt most out of my depth. Every picture I drew, everything I made out of pipe cleaners or popsicle sticks looked like . . . a mess.
The picture above, for example, is not a keepsake from those days. I drew it this morning. I have improved a lot.
So, one of the things that I learned in Kindergarten is that “Art” is not for me. Later, the school choir director would tell me that singing is not for me. My failures at “Art” and singing persuaded me that the manual dexterity, self discipline, and ear required to play a musical instrument were not in my wheelhouse either.
My school days reinforced the lesson about “Art” that I learned in Kindergarten. “Art” is for other people who are more talented, disciplined, and creative than I am.
I bet that I am not only person who learned that lesson.
Our culture also gives us the message that “Art” is for the professionals to make. The rest of us can pay for the concert tickets, recordings, museum memberships, and streaming services that support the professionals.
But, at its most basic level, art is what Mrs. Crawford tried to teach me with modeling clay or popsicle sticks that I could glue together. What I made did not resemble anything in nature, but I was putting things together, I was giving shape to the shapeless, and color to blank sheets of paper.
I was also learning that whatever I create will probably look like a mess at first. I eventually learned how to create with words. I made my living with words. Everything I write is a mess at first. It has taken me weeks to write these 500 words.
I see people around me putting things together, bringing a new order out of the chaos of COVID-19. They may make messes, but they keep at it until something new emerges. Some do it Mrs. Crawford’s way, with paints, and crayons, and colored paper. Some make mouth-watering dinners and desserts. Some are trying to work from home, keep their kids on track, and maintain their sanity. Some are literally trying to make something out of nothing.
My friend and former neighbor, Stephen Calhoun, who began playing around with his digital camera and an iPad and discovered a whole new form of art, posted a quote on Facebook a couple of years ago that sums up what I want to say:
Creativity belongs to the artist in each of us.
To create means to relate.
The root meaning of the word “art” is “to fit together”
and we all do this every day.
Not all of us are painters
but we are all artists.
Each time we fit things together
we are creating –
whether it is to make
a loaf of bread,
a child,
a day.
—Corita Kent
The biggest lesson we should have learned in kindgergarten was how to play together, how to get along with each other. That’s what’s missing in our country today. If our leaders (and the rest of us, too) actually learned how to respect each other, listen to each other and work and play together, this nation would be far different. That’s the kindgergarten lesson we all failed to learn.
I love this post and I love your drawing!!
Thank you!
You fixed the comment function.
Mickey tells me he almost failed kindergarten because of his artistic ability/disability. Your current drawing ability exceeds Mickey’s. He is creative in other ways. We are personally doing well during the Pandemic.
Glad to know that I’m not alone. If Mickey had that problem, I am in good company.
I finally got comfortable and confident “making art” as an adult at our JCC. it was all about the teacher and the atmosphere she created.
I’m glad to hear that, Joyce.
Nice balance between your efforts at making, and Corita’s hope filled poem…set against the sometimes hyper banality of these days. Very pastoral, my brother.
Thank you, Ralph
Have always been hopeless at art and music, convinced I could add nothing worthwhile. Then I discovered quilting. My efforts are getting better. But mostly I please myself and hope to please others.
I was in a class to learn how to care for my own mental health as a volunteer with refugee families who have been to hell and back. Hearing their stories can cause PTSD in some of the volunteers. We were given chalk and paper as well as being shown how to start a picture using a traditional Japanese technique of smudging the chalk colours to blend them with your finger. The room of chatty adults became silent as we all became engrossed in our efforts. Some of the results were pretty, some were messy, and some were spectacular. I think art has value as a process to the person creating as much as for the output
Wow! JoAnne, this is really profound. Thanks for taking it deeper.
I really appreciate this way of thinking about art. I have always felt that creating prayer services was making art – not just the musical aspects – but the whole thing made out of all of its parts: sermon/words, music, engagement with participants, community-building moments, the way we set up the chairs and shape the space. This is very validating. Thank you!!