Art Lessons

My daughter learned a tough life lesson this morning. I suppose, in the overall scheme of life lessons, it could have been a whole lot worse. In retrospect, she’ll understand that it truly was just a little thing.

She didn’t think so this morning.

And as I watched her trudge onto the bus, head hung, posture screaming absolute defeat, my heart broke into a million pieces for her.

Parenting is truly a heartbreaking work of art. We put a gentle touch here, a stronger statement there, a delicate hint another time, and a bold statement that just screams right across the middle as we work longer on the piece of art. You’ve had those screaming bold statements, haven’t you? The ones that we just can’t help … passion overtakes us, and in the end, the bold touch has as dramatic an effect on our children as it does on a Van Gogh painting. Hopefully we don’t lose an ear in the process, although I sometimes wonder, as blistered as my ear feels after some of those bold touches.

This morning, as I watched one of my pieces of art, one of the pieces that grew as if by magic, one of the pieces that just poured through me as a vessel which I had very little control over, my heart was shattered once again. After spending far too many hours helping her prepare a watercolor for an art show ... hours on the phone trying to find a way to cover the artwork in plastic (not framed), a long detour to Lowe’s to find stretch wrap, the best alternative I could come up with after phone calls to every frame shop in two counties, and an early waking this morning to help her cover her piece ... I finally read the rules to make sure she had everything attached properly.

And there, in black and white, right in the requirements for the show, it says, “Maximum size 11x14.” Her painting is 11x18.

She’s devastated. She really wanted to show this painting. It’s good, produced at the end of a summer workshop on watercolors. I’m proud of her work; even better, she’s proud of her work. The contest had a cash prize, and she was hoping to win some cash for her exchange program this summer to Australia and New Zealand. Her last words, as she climbed out of the car to trudge to the bus were, “I had a sketch the right size. I could have entered that instead.”

I’m angry at myself. I should have read the rules at the beginning, too. I would have caught the size requirement. I might have been able to save her some anguish.

On the other hand, she did learn a lesson this morning. It was painful. She won’t ever forget to read all the rules to a contest again, though.

It could have been a whole lot worse, like drugs, or teen pregnancy. For that I can be grateful. One day, she will be able to laugh about this. And in the meanwhile, I will guide with delicate strokes and hints of color here and there, allowing her to make the kind of mistakes that will help her grow into an amazing and awesome work of art. She will become stronger, more vivid, full of the confidence of someone who learns lessons well. And my heart will shatter again and again and again as I watch the struggle of the birth of a full and rich human being.

If I accept you as you are, I will make you worse. However, if I treat you as though you are what you are capable of becoming, I help you become that.
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe