I think I have the answer. Philosophers and artists, critics and collectors, everyone has been trying to answer this question for ages, and I think I just figured it out.
Have you ever watched a two-year-old draw? I'm sitting here watching my toddler, and it's a beautiful thing. Not the final product, though in my very humble opinion that's beautiful too. The process. Complete creative expression. Losing himself in the process. I see him grab a crayon and make a series of marks, then exclaim "It's a kite! It's flying up there! Swirl swirl swirl, it's flying!" Another color, another series of lines, "It's a flower! It is so pretty!" I don't know if he knows what he's going to draw before he makes his marks, or if he makes his marks and then decides what it is, like a toddler rorshach excercise. But he is deliberate in the colors he chooses, the lines he draws. I ask him if he wants to use yellow, "No! Black!" He's adamant. I see if I can direct him to draw in a blank corner of the paper. "My art!" he yells at me, as he pushes my hand away. And rightly so - who am I to tell him how to make his art?
Creative, emotional, unincombered by social ideas of what's art and what isn't. Pure expression of self. Open to interpretation. The process as important as the final result, if not more so. And when he's done, he's done, and moves on to something else, his task finished for now.
Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but to me this is art. "You are such a good artist," I tell him. He smiles at me and says "Mama! I know!"
This must have been a precious moment for you to treasure always. He's such an amazing little guy!
Posted by: Grandma | 07/20/2010 at 05:23 PM