Cookbook Editor

The cookbook by Kids .01 and .02 was a big success. I made only 12 copies, trying to save color printing expenses. All the relatives who received it appreciate how authentic it is, with very little adult intervention in the writing and illustration (just fixed spelling).
Tomorrow kids and I are baking 100 cupcakes for a big party we’re throwing for my parents.
Am rather tired… but it’s been that kind of year.

Getting in the Spirit

First of December, wow, yet another year finished. It’s been a hard one.
My kids are already excited about the holidays, so I’m trying to be, too. We put up some lights, we’ll start to bake, I’ll try to buy just a few things to wrap up. A recession shouldn’t affect kids, it’s just too unfair. I want them to have great memories, even of this bleak time.
I did have a recent break, though. A dealer may put some of my work up on his ArtNet site. We’ll see if anything comes of it.
And I started a new series of paintings today, on birch panel. They’ll be collaborations with another artist. Should be fun.

800th Post

I digress from musing about art half-way ‘round the world to talk about art in my own hood. Curated a small show for my women’s group. As usual, no one sold anything (it was in an alternative space, not a gallery), but it was fun (can you tell I’m trying to convince myself fun is important?). I really don’t know what to do about all of us out of work and not selling, but that doesn’t seem to affect the quality of the work.
My own kid.02 had a small show of his masks outside on the sidewalk. He sold, $5 per mask. The lessons he learned were worth much more—that hard work can pay off, that others value what he creates, that he can overcome shyness. Plus people got some really cool Halloween masks.

Little Art Entrepreneur

Since he could speak, Kid.01 has been very focused. He’s particularly interested in and sensitive to food and taste. Very strong opinions about cooking, and just loves to eat.
Kid.02 has been more of an unformed child, sort of all over the place. But recently he’s been making art in my studio, with only slight encouragement. He’s now preparing a collection of masks to sell for Halloween at an upcoming art show. And they are pretty great. He’s so excited about the prospect of people buying his masks, he can’t wait to get into his “store” and make more. The best part is his self-motivation, something more valuable than good looks or super intellect.
I'm not creating this monster, he's doing it himself.

Hot States

Six years ago, when kid.01 was a wee-thing, I painted a map of the States on the blacktop of his school playground. Needless to say, it needed re-doing. So I bought the lead-free enamel and have been near heat stroke as I slowly repaint each state. I work partially during recess, so the kids can watch, and “own” the painting.
After the first weekend there were skid marks from bikes crossing the states. The teachers were distressed, but it’s typical. It proves my thesis, that there’s an innate need to make marks. It’s not even malicious.
The kids are really cute, they say, “Wow, you’re doing a great job. You really know how to paint.” ☺

Overheard while Pruning the Bougainvillea

“In this town, everyone dies.”
Kid.02
Anish Kapoor at MOMA, gouache and pencil on paper, love it

New York and my Little Corner

I didn’t get a chance to write about my New Your art trip earlier this summer. Saw wonderful stuff--glad I did, as now I’m so down on art (or maybe it’s just the horrible prospect of me and most of my friends losing our jobs).
Anyway, went to Mary Boone, saw this highly designed paper work by Jacob Hashimoto. It was both lovely and cold somehow. The space is impressive with exposed rafters. It’s also a reminder not to show too much, not to overfill walls with work.
Last night my studio building was open for the first time during the local gallery walk. I had several series up, but it was overload.
Just opened two boxes of paintings from almost 15 years ago that were in storage. Don’t quite know what to think. I don’t even remember doing the paintings, which are citycsapes. They were produced right before I entered grad school, when I quit painting entirely.
Have I improved/developed/matured? Can’t say. Am not thrilled with the old work, but that’s typical—the only work I’m ever really happy with is what I’m doing NOW.
The best thing about last night was that Kid.02, on his own initiative, put prices on the stuff he’s been making in my studio, and sold a pirate painting for $5.

Animal House

My kids are badly in need of a pet.
I’m sorry to report that my chickens are no more. Flora died of natural causes. Zebra, Buttercup and Eggo Waffle all disappeared, probably a fox. Only Spaghettina survived, and she was the least likely to do so, scraggly as she is. So we gave her to another family who desired to start a chicken family.
I’m still bully on chickens, just “not at this time”… where have I heard that before???
So…
Really want a dog, but have been warned it’s like having another baby. Big distraction.
Ok, what about a hamster? Had one as a kid. Her name was Lucy, and she was a wonderful and sweet girl, lived for several years. The kids have been watching Chmurka YouTube videos (talk about obsessive, and where are these people, Russia? Japan?).
Update to follow.

Vocabulary Expanded

Kid.01: Mr. S got mad at us for using text in our book summaries.
Kloe: What do you mean?
Kid.01: You know, lol, bff, lotl, aka.
Kloe: What’s bff and lotl?
Kid.01 (exasperated): Best friends forever and Lord of the losers!
…
Kid.01: You wear tighty whities.
Kid.02: Yeah (giggle). Tight means awesome.
(student drawing combining Botticelli and Munch)

Painted Placemats

Another fit of my Martha Stewartism: using up scraps of gessoed canvas, my kids painted their favorite desserts: chocolate birthday cake, plate of donuts, ice cream sundae, and peach pie.

Sensitive Child

02: Mama, where would you live if you didn’t have a house?
K: Well, I supposed you’d be homeless.
02: But what if you had a car?
K: You could live in your car.
02: That’s what I was thinking. But what if you were a rich hobo?
K: You could live in a motel?
02: No, you could buy a house. Then you’d be a hobo in a house.

This is what concerns my little one on the eve of his seventh birthday.

Poem by a Sweet Boy

MOM
Pretty nice
Cooking working playing
Mom Mom Mom Mom
Buying working dancing
Good smart
Great Mom

School’s Out for Summer!

Last day of elementary school. I spent the morning teaching 60 kindergarteners how to hula hoop, five at a time. We did hips, arm, neck, foot, jump rope, tossing… felt like circus school. Some of the boys especially were ecstatic to learn the mechanics of this so-called girl activity, and a few even came back a second time. And yes, I did get a welt around my bare arm from repetitive friction…
So somewhere the Great Elementary School Goddess looked down upon me and smiled. Kid.01 tested into the Gifted and Talented Program. Even better, 02’s kindergarten teacher, an amazing woman famed throughout the region, is teaching first grade next year and he has the option of looping with her (two years consecutive with the same teacher). I was so relieved I cried, cause we were faced with the prospect of a weak teacher for him next year.
See, volunteering has multiple payoffs.

Purple

Kid.02 and all his classmates are on a color-coded behavior system to finish out the year. Every child starts each day as a “good kid” with a green. If you get a warning for poor behavior you move to yellow, then orange. The worst is red. I’d be very upset to get a red coming home.
But if you’re quite good you can progress to a blue. And if you’re SUPER, a purple. The first kinders to get purples were girls, of course. But when my kid came home with a purple in his little hand, I was beyond proud. Partly because he's a bit wild.
As reward, he got to choose a ColdStone pint: white chocolate ice cream with double brownies, chocolate chips and sprinkles. Sweetness well deserved.

A Real Mother’s Day

• Slept in til 8am, wow!
• Got up, made breakfast (although I was promised it in bed, I don’t really like the crumb/sheet factor).
• Cleaned up the house after it was destroyed by window installers (yeah, double panes!).
• Skated with my kids (meaning I coast, they fall).
• Helped kids to paint cards for grandmothers.
• Helped Kid.01 make imam beyeldi (Turkish stuffed eggplant) and lava cakes.
• Prepared rest of food.
• Cleaned up yard for BBQ.
• Served, ate, cleaned up.
• Played tennis with kids.
• Got kids ready for bed.
• Did laundry.
• Finished art history test and blogged this.
That was my WHOLE DAY. Kid.01 wanted to know why there are no Children’s Days, and I gave him the standard line that EVERYDAY is children’s day. I was not lying.
Special highlights: Kid.01 tripped (on trail of fish juice) while serving dessert, sending lava cake, creme anglaise, and scoop of vanilla ice cream flying into my open briefcase. Kid.02, while playing tennis, realized he had to use the bathroom and a bush would not cut it. We did not make it to the park toilet in time…

Transgender Children

Today on NPR there was a story that profoundly upset me. It was about two little boys, one on each coast, both of whom may be transgender (boys physically, but girls mentally and emotionally). You should listen to it.
Here’s a synopsis:
Each boy from about age two began to play with girl toys and associate with girls rather than boys. Their respective parents initially permitted this behavior, but eventually sought professional advice on how to handle their unique situations.
The West Coast family found a therapist who allowed the child to wear dresses and play with dolls because the child insisted he was a girl. The mother described the day she drove the child to Target to buy his first real dress as the happiest she has ever seen him. This family now has a well-adjusted six-year-old, whom they refer to as a girl.
The East Coast family found a therapist who recommended the child be treated as a boy. The parents slowly took away all girl toys and only allowed association with boys. The mother described how she began to find Barbies hidden in the couch as the child realized what was happening. And when the girlish things were all gone, this child simply stopped playing. This breaks my heart.
He only drew. And what did he draw? Rainbows and butterflies and girls. When asked to draw a "boy," he said, “I don’t know how.” For me this brings home how primal drawing is, how I should respect each of my student’s innate skills and vision.
This child is having problems, as you may have guessed. The mother describes how he is currently traumatized by pink. I sincerely hope these parents have a change of heart, because color should certainly not bring pain.
What do I take away from this stunning story? To accept and respect my kids’ unique attributes. To be thankful they seem to have an easier road ahead of them at this point. To allow boys to play with me, because Bratz are not just for girls.

Brothers

.01 said to .02, as he threw him over his lap and played him like a piano, I love you.

Soft-Centered Kloe

My kids are at that Why-can’t-we-have-a-dog stage. It might be nice (I’ve never had a dog), but friends have told me it’s like having another baby. And I’m so glad the baby stage is past.
Sometimes you feel yourself getting worn down, though. Like an ice cream cone slowly melting, leaving big chocolate rivulets.

Fourth Grade

Having missed a year of American elementary school while we were in Turkey, I can see a big difference between controlled second grade and free-wheeling fourth grade. My son and his classmates are developing tremendous self-discipline. They work on their own for long stretches of time, on multi-step projects. For example, the nine-years-olds are creating Powerpoint shows: researching topics online, downloading photos, making slides that often incorportate fancy backgrounds, fonts and transitions. They help each other. But a few kids are distracted and may be left behind without intervention or help with organizational skills.
I am astounded that so many of the kids, including my son, do well, when at home a simple list of get dressed, make your bed, and brush your teeth can’t be followed. It’s all about expectations.
(photo: inside of kid’s desk)

Xmas Memories

Kid.02 asked me what is my favorite part of Christmas. Keep in mind, this is coming from a Jewish kid. I told him it is early Christmas morning, when you’re just waking up, and your mom says you can go into the living room with your brother and sister, and you first spy all the stockings, full to bursting, hanging from the chimney mantle.
The next best thing is later in the day, when the opening and eating are finished: looking at the pile of stuff you got, all that potential fun yet to be had.
Lastly, Christmas is wonderful late at night, just sitting by the tree that is still lit up and smelling good.
Then he asked, Mom, how can Santa bring clothes if his elves only have hammers and bells in their workshop?