Today is the university’s open house. We are taking our fourth child, the lovely S. in – to show her artwork. She’s already had an informal portfolio review this summer. Today is another informal showing to the art department.
Artists are thick in the family, most were not art majors. Neither Bud nor I have talent for drawing, so it is a marvel to see this homeschooled child go on her own, year after year, progressing in artistic output. She comes after a trio of writers who spill words like breathing, and begins the next trio of visual artists.
In the attic there are many Rubbermaid tubs filled with 8 1/2 x 11 sheets of paper with drawings on them. Birthday cards usually have cartoons. Grocery lists often yield a funny face. Posts on the bathroom door usually have a scribbled face.
Walls upstairs are heavily drawn upon. I am still finding little witty sketches that I will never paint over. A lot of this is from our fifth child, K. who is as prolific an artist as S.
The headboard on my bed has a funny face drawn in Sharpie from a five-year-old K. My desk has a witty “Hi” scratched on it.
So off we go to begin the handover of our next daughter to the big world. That world will benefit from her sweetness, keen eye, and visual rendition of compassion.
Cresta Ola 