Art Box

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.
- Scott Adams

A few years ago, frustrated with the piles of art on the kitchen counter, Adam began stashing the kids' creative endeavors in a box (or 2) in our front hall closet. As if bumping into the overflowing box (es) every time we went to retrieve our shoes, a coat, put a bottle cap into recycling wasn't enough to get me motivated to address the issue, Collin's innocent request during homework was. Assignment: find and attach to math packet examples of symmetry in nature. Collin's suggestion: "I could use my symmetry animals."

In full disclosure, I do not remember the exact day the symmetry animals were created...it was at least 2 years ago, maybe 3, quite possibly longer...definitely during a time that was so busy my memories are sketchy, at best. Nonetheless, I was able to go to the closet, rifle through the boxes, and retrieve every single one of those symmetry animals...

Every one.

...Which is why, while Collin and Aaron were at their respective schools, Nolan and I sat down in the middle of the living room floor to tackle the the art box. I knew it was going to be difficult. As I began making my way through drawings, paintings, color book pages, sticker collages, foam art, school projects...I became keenly aware of my attachment neurosis. Was this a good idea? If anything ever happened to one of the kids, wouldn't I give anything to go through this box, cherishing each piece of paper those little hands touched?

Involving Nolan, and Aaron after we retrieved him from preschool, only complicated matters. The boys are also very attached to their artwork...which is why, when rational thought finally returned, I found the strength to appreciate each item one last time before tossing it into the recycling bin.

I didn't throw everything. I saved a small number of special projects...like the book Collin created in preparation for Auntie Laura's visit in July of 2010...and the distinctly geometric patterns Aaron began creating at a young age, along with projects that showcase Nolan's 2-year old hand print...among others.

It feels good to distinguish the creative process from the art...and more importantly to know that our experience is not unique. I recently stumbled upon the blog of an acquaintance, the sister of one of Adam's closest college friends. The synchronicity in universe occasionally stops me in my tracks...and her blog entry during the throws of this project (which embarrassingly has taken the better part of 6 weeks to execute) was no exception. She posted the following about her children's art:

"I want to be able to touch it...or simply toss it. Love it as much and for as long as I can before it just has to go. The pieces that I plan to save in keepsake boxes may never be fully appreciated. I know this. Even if it is torn and folded and faded by the time the kids take it out to look at in 20 years, I want them to be able to hold what their young selves made.

For me, the smell of tempera paint is half the experience. And I smelled a lot of it yesterday."

Amen, "sister". Well said.