Whether or not we do so knowingly, that thing about parents projecting their own ambitions and idealized selves onto their children is unquestionably true. We try to follow Johanna’s cues (You like pink teddy bears? Get on with your bad self!) but just as often we steer her to embrace the things we love or recreate our own (real, embellished or wished for) childhoods. Then we beam about how lucky we are to get a chip off the ole block.
Suddenly I have an apprentice eager to share my atelier. She has a knack for oil pastels and charcoal, likes her pencils sharp, and thinks everything’s better collaged together. Aren’t genes amazing?
Some recent collaborations:
We three stayed in a cabin outside Maiden Rock, Wisconsin, last weekend and spent most of two frosty days drawing by a wood stove. It was the escape I was hoping for, though I felt nervous sketching out in the woods with rifle shots echoing through the valley around me. When I returned to the cabin, I saw our hosts had supplied day-glow vests.