When my brother and I were children, my parents believed in nurturing our talents and helping us become whatever we wanted to be. Kindergarteners have a very small skill set, but they get to paint a lot, and so one September day I brought home a roll of manila paper. It was heavy with paint, damp and creased from where my fingers clutched it on the walk.
Jackson Pollock No. 9 - It really does look like that long-ago painting, manila paper and all.
Prepared to gush over any bit of artwork, no matter how rudimentary, Mom and Dad watched me unfurl the paper and thrust it their way. Stunned, they stared at the masterpiece I’d so casually brought into the house. It was like something out of Jackson Pollock – The Kindergarten Years. Bright splashes of color dotted the paper, flirting and frolicking in an arrangement that dazzled the eye. Abstract and playful, it was the work of a confident painter, one much older than five.
The next day they quietly began saving for a fancy art school. I would be the first artiste in the family, and they wanted to make sure I had an opportunity to mix more media than crayons and fingerpaints.
Excited to show off their daughter’s talent, they had the picture framed and hung in a place of prominence over the dining room table, where we could admire it.
And then one night during dinner, as my brother kicked me under the table so my parents couldn’t see, my mom turned to me and asked, “What made you decide to put that dab of blue right there?”
“What?” I asked, more worried about Mom catching me kicking my brother back than about answering her.
She repeated her question.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what about the red, right there in the corner? What inspired that?”
“I don’t know.” Thinking the chat finished, I surreptitiously fed another pea to our golden retriever, who hovered hopefully beneath my heavy wooden chair.
“And the yellow?” she tried again, waving one hand at a few blobs.
“I don’t know,” I repeated. “It’s not mine. I didn’t paint it.”
Silence, as my parents’ forks froze over their plates. When my mom could form a coherent thought, she asked, “You didn’t?”
I shook my head, oblivious to their tension and, not understanding that my entire future as an artist hung on my next word, said, “No.” Then I went back to shoveling stuffed peppers in my mouth because, really, they were delicious.
“So, uh, who did?” my mom asked gently, as if hoping my answer had been a mistake.
I looked up, mid-bite. Seriously, were we still talking about this? “I don’t know.”
“But why do you have it, then?”
A close approximation of my kindergarten artwork, circa 2011.
“Teacher told us to take a painting home. I liked that one.” After all, even if I had no talent in the visual arts arena, I could still recognize a pretty picture when I saw it.
Silence. My parents’ eyes flicked to the picture. To me. To the picture – the one I hadn’t done with my own skinny little fingers and globby kindergarten paint.
They stopped saving for art school but, just in case, asked me to bring home a few paintings of my own instead of leaving them for my teacher to discard – an easy request since I created a new masterpiece every afternoon. And each day it was the same: a house with curtains in the windows, a slanting stick figure family of four, sun in the upper corner. Tulips. Grass. Our pets made an occasional cameo appearance. Sometimes there was a rainbow.
To this day my drawings look as if I did them with my left hand while crossing my eyes, but that’s okay because I never had art school aspirations anyway. I wanted to be something much more practical: a writer.
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About Me
I am the stay-at-home mother to a toddler nicknamed Sunshine. During nap times I write books, blog, and play around with the photos I've taken. I live in the southwestern U.S. with my husband, daughter, and two cats. My books are represented by Erzsi Deàk of Hen & Ink Literary Studio.
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TWO chances to win "Worth the Risk" by @RobinBielman! http://t.co/Vmc1eJ0x ~ 05/16
I love the sound of the rain falling through the trees and into the grass. It sounds crackly and cozy and sweet. ~ 05/16
Today is jeans-washing day, which means tomorrow we celebrate suck-in-my-stomach-because-my-jeans-shrank-in-the-laundry day. ~ 05/16
This week I'm giving away TWO copies of debut author Robin Bielman's novella "Worth the Risk" on my blog. http://t.co/Vmc1eJ0x ~ 05/15
I feel bad for Mondays. Everything that goes wrong today will be blamed on the day of the week. Better to be a Friday. People love Fridays. ~ 05/14
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Hahahahahaha!! Ohmygod, I LOVE this story! You little grub, letting your poor parents imagine they had a tiny Pollock on their hands! I am very, very glad that you decided to be a writer instead!
(And treasure your parents for their pure love. When I watch Amelia paint, I’m usually really unimpressed. Yesterday I caught myself saying, “Seriously? You’re mixing every single color again. Baby, it makes brown. After five years of doing this every day, do we really need to test it? Why don’t you just let me buy you a gallon of brown paint to work from instead of all these little globs of color I have to spend fifteen minutes squirting so you can make brown.” Hahaha! What do I know, though. Maybe she’s a genius and shes in her Brown Period?)
Ha! I was just so oblivious. I guess it never occurred to my five-year-old self that they wouldn’t know it was mine. And your description of Amelia literally made me laugh out loud.
So … I’m still stuck in bed, feeling totally lousy, but this post brought a smile to my face for the first time all day. I love how innocent your kindergarten-self was in all this. Mostly, I love that you knew you wanted to be a writer even at such a young age. It seemed so magical then, didn’t it? Still does
Oh, no! You’re still sick? How awful. I’m so glad this post made you smile, though. Of course, I eventually grew out of wanting to be a writer because it wasn’t practical, but that didn’t last, since here I am!
Lizzy, I have this exact same conversation with David EVERY. TIME. WE. PAINT. Especially at Christmas, when I just want him to make some nice red-and-green designs we can use for wrapping paper. And he makes what looks like a painting of the world’s biggest turd.
Ha! Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like brown splotches on your wrapping paper.
Hahahaha! See Caryn…you always bring the potty humor, even when you didn’t intend it!
I hope to be practical enough to be a writer someday. For now, you will be my inspiration.
LOL! That’s okay. One thing the world needs less of is Jackson Pollock imitators.
Great story! I loved it. Yeah, I WISH I could draw the pictures in my mind, but at least I can draw them with words!
Nice! I can picture you and Mike as youngsters, tormenting one another at the table. Also can easily imagine your parents being as warm,loving, and optimistic as they continue to be! Looking forward to seeing you in a couple weeks!
That is one of the funniest stories I’ve ever heard. I love the fact your parents framed it. Glad you’re a writer though.
Best Kindergarten story EVER! I taught Kindergarten for two years and I can TOTALLY see this happening. Can’t wait to share this with my former K-colleagues.
A writer is more practical than an artist? Hahahaha!
My children ask me to draw pictures for them, then they imitate mine but there pictures are so much better. It’s shameful, but I accept my lack of artistic ability. No one’s perfect. : )
Stacy, you can – and will – do it!!! And thanks. I love the idea of being an inspiration to someone.
Faith, LOL! No, he’s not my favorite, either, though I suppose I kind of get the appeal. Still, the best thing about his work is that it was unique, and if people are imitating him it rather defeats the purpose.
Lisa, Thanks! Like you, I’d love to be able to draw! Maybe if we worked as hard at our visual arts as we did with words, we could get there. But what’s the fun in drawing a picture when you can write a whole book?
Jen, I’m looking forward to it, too! And, yes, you would know how my brother and I behave. In a lot of ways, we haven’t grown up. Especially him. But don’t tell him I said that…
Clarissa, thanks! I had forgotten this one until my mom reminded me, and I knew I had to post it.
Leslie, please do! Sharing is good.
E.R., that’s what I thought at the time, but then I learned otherwise. Hasn’t stopped me from trying, though!
This is priceless!
Oh, I loved this. Aren’t children logical in their own way? After all, if you’re told to ‘take a picture’ why not take the one you like best
At least your parents had ambitions for you. When I was 5 I got a toy kitchen. But then when I was 8 I got a toy typewriter and the rest is history…
What do you mean you have no talent? I love that picture! Great story.
Haha, this is so great! I work with kindergarteners, and I love watching them paint. Sometimes you see things that resemble rainbows or trees or suns… and sometimes it’s just one big blob of mess. Love it.
Too funny! Parents are ready to grab on to their kids talent, aren’t they? (Okay, I should say, “aren’t we?”).
As I type, my 2-year-old is working on a scissored masterpiece. Litle bits of paper everywhere. Genius the way she cuts those pieces!
Caryn, you’re a great storyteller!
Loved this!
I can’t even draw a straight line. However, hearts and flowers were my thing when I was little. And I *loved* to color. My mom would buy me those giant posters – I remember one was an undersea picture and one was birds – that you could color, and I would spend hours working on them. As long as I didn’t go out of the lines, I was a happy camper.
My drawings look more yours did at 5 years old. Good thing I decided to be a writer, too. Fortunately, I’m a better photographer than I am an artist.
Sylvia, Thanks! I’ve been meaning to tell this story for a while now. Just finally remembered when I had the chance.
Sarah, EXACTLY!
Emily, Looks like you were sentenced to the writing life from an early age. Sunshine is getting a play kitchen for Christmas (Shh! Don’t tell her.) Hope she doesn’t think we’re trying to dictate her future career. Though if she loves it and ends up being our dinner-time cook when she’s old enough, I’m not going to complain!
Donna, Thanks! P.S. You apparently have low standards, or your just very nice.
Shelly, I love to watch kids being creative, too! The things they come up with are amazing. (Same with listening to them talk.)
Janet, That’s hilarious! And, yes, I feel exactly the same way any time Sunshine does something more exciting than breathing and blinking her eyes (which, now, is most of the time).
Robin, Your comment absolutely made my day! As for the rest of the story, I can so totally, completely picture it, from your topic of choice (hearts and flowers) to you wanting to stay in the lines and make your coloring perfect. Whether or not you could draw, I bet you had the best-looking coloring books on the block!
Stina, I’m the same way. Since I can’t draw, I have to get my visual arts on through photography. Much more fun.
What a great story! And I love your approximation of your own five-year-old work. Looks like mine!
LOL this is great. At least your parents were willing to encourage your artistic endeavors– even if they picked the wrong art form.
And being a writer is totally practical! Much more so than, like, medicine or something silly like that.
Beth, Thanks! Yeah, I have a feeling kindergarten teachers see LOTS of paintings of stick figure families and houses and rainbows and suns and such.
Stephanie, So true! It makes me feel very lucky. And when I did start showing an interest in writing, they were very supportive of that, too.
LOL!! But you had a good eye for art and so that still counts!
Your family sound so amazing!
Take care
x
What a great story! Of course, you tell a great story; you’re a natural born writer!
LOL! I do love a good Jackson Pollock! What a great story.
Old Kitty, If only it were as easy to create pretty pictures as it is to recognize them! And I agree – they are amazing.
Barrie, There are no words to tell me how much your comment meant to me. Thank you!
Talli, Thanks! I’ve always enjoyed Jackson Pollock’s work myself. I think this story is the reason why.
LOL this is hilarious. What a funny story to start a Monday with – just glad I wasn’t drinking my coffee at the time I read it or I might have choked while laughing:)
Ha! Something more practical like writing! That’s a good one.
Love the story and your blog design – the textures are very cool. I follow.
What a great story!
That’s hilarious! No wonder your parents were so proud- but hey, your actual pictures were cute, too
We writerly types are SO practical. *cough cough* I’m much better at photography than art involving drawing/painting.
OMZ, what an awesome story! I loved all the action going on during dinner, too.
*giggles* So pure and honest.
Lindsay, I’m glad you enjoyed it! If it made you laugh, then I consider my job done!
Susan, I was hoping people would get the joke. Though considering my artwork, anything is more practical than become an artist.
Tonja, Thanks! I tried to follow you earlier but couldn’t find a widget. After your comment, I went back to your site and discovered I could follow you via the toolbar, so yay! I’m following you AND I learned something tonight.
Caroline, Thanks!
Rida, Thanks! And as far as the visual arts go, photography’s my thing, too! So much fun.
Vicki, Thanks! I had fun trying to remember back to the sorts of things we did during dinner. Things got kind of crazy with two kids, a dog, and a cat around, but they were fun.
Mary, That’s one of the fun things about kids, isn’t it?
Hi Caryn, first time visitor, great to meet you! I always thought I would do something with art, yet its writing that opened up for me. To this day I want to be an artist. Maybe I’ll just have to make it my hobby.
What a fun story
Had me giggling like a school girl.
Thanks for visiting my blog today Caryn. And, I’ve had a great time browsing your site and reading your posts. Very interesting digs.
…….dhole
I love your drawing. And I say you have talent! And it’s clear: you have the creative gene. Woo-hoo. Keep drawing. Keep writing!
What a great story! I really do like that 9 year-old’s painting, but you know what? I like yours too because it’s so something that I would draw! When my little one asks me to draw with her, oh man, do I suck at it. She’s so much more talented than me. In fact it’s one of her many talents, and she takes art lessons (though I don’t think she has any aspirations to be an artist.
) I’m glad you’re a writer!
“More practical… *snert* Love this!
Oh, too cute! This was totally me–devoid of visual talent. I wanted so bad to be artistic, but it was obvious from a young age that I lacked imagination and motor skills in that domain.
A bit of mystery and intrigue. A Vincent Van Gough, perhaps.
One never knows. It’s great you are allowing self development. I totally belive that if a child shows promise in a particular area a parent should prompt. One never knows in our ever changing world. 
As for your white Christmas, photographs would be lovely. I’m so so jealous that you experience a white christmas. It must be absolutely wonderful.
Suzanne :0
Nice story/blog post title
Stephen, Thanks for stopping by! It’s good to ‘meet’ you. Good luck with your writing AND your visual art. Maybe you can figure out a way to combine them, so your writing will lead you to your art.
Donna, Thanks for reciprocating the visit! I had fun checking out your blog, too, and I’m glad this made you laugh.
Samantha, It would be nice to use my creativity for something other than stick figures, but for that I guess I’d have to put in a little more time – kind of like I do with my writing.
April, How wonderful that your daughter got the artist gene, even if it skipped you. (Who knows, though…Maybe with your daughter’s art classes you’d be just as good as she is!)
Christina, Thanks! I always was a pragmatist.
Hart, Same here! So of course I didn’t bother to practice my drawing/painting, and the void opened even further.
Suzanne, I’ll have to remember to take some photos if we get a white Christmas this year. They don’t happen often where I live, but it’s not unknown. I grew up in a pretty snowy area, though, and we had white Christmases a lot.
Kelley, Thanks!
Fun post and yay for wanting to be a writer.
I wanted to be an artist when I was a child. I do have artistic skill, but I didn’t have the patience to develop it.
LOL! OK, your ability to paint a picture is questionable, but who needs that when you can do it with words! And there’s definitely no doubting your ability to write.
Did your parents replace the first painting with your original artwork of a stick figure family of four?
That’s a hilarious story! I love it! And yes. Much more practical to be a writer.
Madeia, I’d much rather you wrote than did art, because then I can read it!
Jessica, I actually wrote to my mom to ask her because I couldn’t remember. Here’s her response: “No, we didn’t. In the beginning, you painted on a piece of paper approximately 16 X 20″. The school probably wanted to make a good impression on parents. By the time we realized that your artwork was not as good as your stories, you were coloring more with crayons on paper 8.5″ X 11″.”
Peggy, I hope it turns out to be a practical decision! Only time will tell.
Oh Caryn, how funny! I did have artistic aspirations. LOL It wasn’t until much later that I fell in love with the written word. I’m glad I never went to a fancy art school though. I still paint most of the art in our house, but I share my writing talent (such as it is) with the world instead.
lmao awesome. I liked reading it
i really miss those days when I would sit on a couch with any scrap of paper and a pencil and just draw all day long …
What a great post! The end really made the story pop!- great read! Thanks : ) ~ Jess
What a great post! Love it! And that last line: hee-hee!
I actually believed I was a writer AND an artist until about ninth grade. Then I saw how well my artistic peers were sketching…very humbling.
Nice to meet you, Caryn! I LOVED this story – so funny. I wasn’t much of a painter myself … my preferred medium was the crayon
But hey, you’re right, just because we aren’t artists doesn’t mean we don’t recognize pretty pictures when we see them!