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Behold the splendor of the abstract expressionist masterpiece entitled “my first drawing!”

my first drawing

Mom sent our baby book to us a few years ago, from out of storage in the attic. It’s a compelling biographical work with passages detailing our weight, birthday presents received, and how thrilled our mother was when our stools finally firmed up after a few weeks. Good thing that was noted for posterity!

But hey, cut Mom some slack. Her encouragement of our artistic inclinations may have begun with preserving this drawing, but they continue to this day. Mom always had some “craft” or “activity” for her two kids, so having an art project to work on all the time just seems normal these days. In fact, we’re convinced our family views all our stuff as just some kind of “craft.” Well, maybe they’re right.

But there’s hope. Even Dad has come on board at long last with his son being some kind of artist. After seeing a few recent paintings he remarked, “Wow — a musician and an artist!” That was nice to hear, but we told our art teacher that it frustrated us. Our first reaction was, “Is that just now sinking in after two decades?” Our teacher, a far more forgiving soul than us, said, “Yes, yes it is. But sometimes parents, like anyone else, take a long time to get things right. You should be happy it happened, despite the wait.”

That put things into perspective for us and changed our attitude around. Since then, we’ve had a much more open dialogue about our interests with our parents. It feels more like some kind of understanding has been reached. We let our teacher know that besides growing as painters, we are also having positive developments in our personal life as a result of painting with her and discussing art on a deeper level.