I went to the art gallery after ages today. I didn’t get a chance to wander for hours as I had my 4 year old with me. The attention span of a preschooler combined with snack time interruptions does not make for an art indulging day. But I brought her with me intentionally because even if she doesn’t end up creating art herself either as a hobby or a profession I still want her to learn to appreciate the wonder of art and understand at the very least it’s emotional value. The Kids Gallery was a great place for her to start as the artwork was placed at a good eye level for her to gaze at. I wanted to see how she interpreted the works, the things that stood out to her. Was it the colour? Was it the shapes and contours? the facial expressions?
Watching fascination in your child’s eyes brings back one’s own youthful excitement. Her eyes widened and sparkled as she absorbed each image. I couldn’t help but immerse myself in her joy. Before heading out I got to quickly grab a dose of the Impressionists; my favourite era. A Cezanne struck my fancy and for a moment I forgot where I was.
I have taken far too few art classes and only one art history course to be able to snooty toot my way around art galleries. All I know is since the beginning, the use of colour and the act of creating have always appealed to me. Certain works have mesmerized me, stirring something inside. Going to the art gallery today reminded me how much I love to paint. I should get back to it, so I can enjoy the creative process at my own pace and perhaps come back more writerly inspired!