works of art

the kids received loads of fantastic presents for christmas, mostly from very generous grandparents.  in fact, the only thing on either of their lists that didn't find its way under the tree was the ipod susanna requested.  (she doesn't even know what an ipod is; she just knows that half her preschool class has one.  you probably think i'm joking.)

but out of all of the kids' new treasures, my personal favorite is the small lazy-susan-of-sorts my mom gave them that now holds every last dadgum art supply we own.  fat markers, skinny markers, colored pencils, crayons, pens, pencils, erasers, stapler, glue sticks, tape, scissors ... they are all now neatly contained in one glorious piece of plastic.  my mom, bless her heart, searched every craft store in the area before giving up and ordering it from the pampered chef catalog.  i think it's designed to hold utensils or cooking tools, but it's doing a superb job meeting our needs.

i am especially grateful for this gem because of what our burgeoning art supply used to look like.  a while back i created laminated labels for our playroom bins: dolls, games, trains, etc.  and on one small white box i put the "art" label, knowing that it would easily hold what we needed it to.  fast forward a few years, and the box was just about obsolete.  we had markers spilling out the top, glue sticks uncapped and dried out, crayons broken into a million places at the bottom of the bin, and paper crammed in from every angle.  all because our two children had decided to adopt art as their new hobby passion -- two picassos in the making.  nowadays, at any given time, you can find one or both of them at the kitchen table, heads bent over their new spiral sketchpads with marker or crayon gripped in hand, frowning in concentration as they pour their little souls into their newest creation.

of course, now that i've got it all figured out where to put all the supplies, i have an entirely different problem: where do i hang all of their masterpieces?  the corkboards in the playroom have no square inch left; the walls are a definite no since neither chris nor i relish the thought of repainting; and i'm just a little too type A to clutter my fridge doors.  (my kitchen, pre-remodel, is cramped enough as it is.  the last thing i need is 100 sheets of paper decorating the biggest appliance in the room.)

i originally suggested door frames, until we got tired of the sound of paper flapping whenever we entered or exited every room in the house.  (and you know my dislike of clutter.)  so then we moved to the playroom windows, until we couldn't see through them.  and then i finally suggested that they use their bedroom doors -- conveniently located on the second floor where no one but us would see them -- and it is there that they now reside.  we've recently had to implement a rule: when one goes up, one must come down.  (spinning wheel's got to go round ...)

the most ironic thing about all this is that while susanna likes to mix up her subject matter, going from princesses one day to rainbows the next, liam's focus is always the same.  it might be football, or tennis, or basketball, but every single last drawing is one of a sports game.  and they all have the following characteristics: there are two boys, liam and an opponent.  every opponent is named, but never with a name of anyone he knows.  liam is smiling.  his opponent is frowning.  labels are atop everything, including the obvious (i.e., "ball", "hat", "racket".)  the score is written at the top.  and liam is always, always the victor.  so the irony is that he continues to create drawings that are almost exact replicas of the 127 drawings he's created before, and then spends an extraordinary amount of time mulling over which one to remove to provide space for a new one to go up.  when they're just about the same darn thing.



i titled this one Ping Pong Perfection.  notice the details: the score (liam 3, al 0), the raw emotion shown on the faces, and how every single aspect is labeled.

i suppose if i were a truly loving, doting mother, i would save all of these treasures and store them away for when he becomes the next monet and i can sell them on ebay for millions of dollars.  but i don't.  therefore the most valuable lesson i've learned in all of this: discarded artwork should only be placed in the trash if the liner is going to be immediately cinched and taken out to the garbage.  otherwise, be prepared to issue a response such as this: "sweetheart, i have no idea how that beautiful picture of you winning the football game against harry 28 to 10 wound up underneath that raw chicken.  so sorry about that!"

stay tuned for some actual real artwork i'll share in a future post (once i get around to taking the photos) ... their oil portraits have finally arrived, are framed, and hanging in our dining room.  but until then, feel free to ooh and aah over the gallery of our artist-in-residence below. 

(and if any of these catches your eye, a small processing fee plus shipping and handling will get you a liam mann original on your bedroom door in no time.  just let me know.)