Today I spent some time in Smallest Person's class. We drew sunflowers.
Sunflowers, because a few weeks earlier we had drawn self portraits together. To get the 5 & 6 year olds up with the world of art, and artist processes, I had shared with them examples of self-portraiture by some of my favorites.
Frida, Manet, Matisse, Picasso, and of course...Vincent The Magnificent.
It's easy to overlook just how unique and special he was. Because of the prolific spread of his images (those sunflowers!), we forget how enduring and important his marks are. But these children, these wonderful, quirky, snotty, nit-infested little louts, they get it.
When I told them a little of his life, they nodded wisely, of course if you are poor, and you can't afford a model, you draw yourself...it's so very logical! They marvelled at his weirdness for that lady for whom he sliced part of his ear off. I pin up some of his work. Someone whispers: "Wow, he is actually very good."
They chuckled – little sages – when I told them how he even painted his own portrait with his ear bandaged up!
Today, we spent some time looking at the actual sunflowers dear Mrs B has brought in for us. We touch the soft spikey centres, notice the second dark eye within the big dark centre of the sunflower - how sunflowers do look a bit like eyes. We discuss the layered yellow petals, the fat, droopy leaves...the big thick stems. I pick up my crayon and show them how I start to draw a sunflower when some small thing announces: "You are actually quite good."
That is how it is. We encourage each other. Not one drawing is alike. Not one sunflower.
Even little T, who draws petals like he draws vampire teeth, gets stuck in to the task.
I have over the weeks, just maybe, earned their attention and effort.
And I only just stop myself from kissing them.
Smallest person - in the back seat of the car (possibly hungry) talking idly about her Dad to herself, "Dad's hands smell like pizza. They're GIANT hands."
