Painting with Grandma

While sitting outside on the swing with my granddaughter, she tells me she was bored out of her mind because she had nothing to do. Twelve years old and she's bored. Can you imagine that? She's so young and beautiful... but she was worried about not having a boyfriend like most of the other girls at school.

So, I tell her that she's different and not at all like the other girls at school. I tell her she's special and too young to be worried about having a boyfriend. She didn't want to hear any of my advice and surely not anything I had to say about when I was a young girl, so I cut that conversation short.

I have to admit that at twelve years old I was still fascinated with dolls and toys, but these are different times we live in than when I was twelve. I don't remember being bored. I always found something to do with my time. The last thing on my mind at twelve was thinking of a boyfriend.

Getting up from the swing, I tell her, "Follow me, I want you to tell me what you see."

"Where are we going? See what, grandma?"

Entering my art studio, I asked, "What do you see?"

"I see paintings. Lots of art hanging all over the walls and leaning along the walls. Why?" she asked.

"So, all you see in my art studio are painting all over the walls. That’s it?”

“Yes. What am I supposed to look for? Do you have something for me in here?” she smiled.

“I have something for you in here… if you want it. Do you want it?”

“Yes!” Her eyes lit up, and her enthusiasm perked up to the height of a mountain top. “What do you have for me, grandma. I love surprises.”

I walked over to my old trunk of art supplies and took out an 8x10 blank canvas. I attached it to my easel and opened five tubes of colors. I added the paint onto my pallet… yellow… blue… brown…green… white. “Here’s your surprise. I want you to paint me a picture. Paint anything you want on this canvas.”

“Grandma! I can’t paint. I thought that the surprise was for me, not for you!” She gave me a stare that send chills down my spine. “I can’t do what you do, and where’s my surprise?” she pouted.

I stood there and watched her act like a spoiled bratty child for a few seconds, which surprised me for a few seconds, because I thought she, of all people, would have never acted this way.

“Okay, my beautiful child, in this room, do you see beautiful trees, and snow filled mountains? How about sad eyes and beautiful sunsets? Portraits of beautiful children with big eyes and happy adults? How about all of the smiles? Do you see people smiling and having fun in the sand?”

“Yes, but it’s on canvas in a painting that comes from your mind. I like your paintings, grandma.”

“Ah, yes… but I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. I wanted you to feel what you will be putting on your paintings. See the happiness in a smile. Feel the sadness of tears. Smell the scent of the tall pine trees. Taste the sugar in that wedding cake. Hear the wind rustling through the leaves in the trees near the shore, and hear the ocean waves as they rush against the rocks.”

“How can I do that, grandma. They’re your paintings and you may be able to feel all of that but I can’t feel what you felt in your painting. Understand?” She looked at me with sadness in her eyes as if she wanted to cry.

“Oh, my darling, I don’t want you to feel that for me. I want you to open your five senses in you. The sensing organs… sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. Each sense sends information to our brain to help you understand and perceive the world around us. If you can do that, you will never be bored again. I promise you.”

“Well. I’m not feeling bored anymore. Now I’m curious.” She smiled.

“Good! Good! Okay, sit at my easel and paint a painting using your five senses. What do you sense when you see the color yellow?”

“Daisies. I love daisies,” she said as she pushed her bangs away from her face.

“How about the green and the blue… the brown and the white? What do you see in these colors?” She could hardly keep still in my paint chair.

“Grandma. I see clouds in the white. I see the inside of a daisy in the brown. I see grass and trees in the green color. Am I right?”

“Oh darling, you’re the artist. Your work of art is always right because it’s what you see. Paint what you see in your mind. An artist can’t be wrong about how they see objects and a scene… or a portrait… and the way they place the colors they want on their canvas.”

“Okay! That sounds good to me.”

She took three of my paint brushes and began painting with all of her colors. I told her that I’d go and make us some lemonade. Her demeanor has taking a 360 degree turn around from the bored little girl sitting with me on the swing outside. When I brought the glasses of lemonade into the studio, she had painted a cute daisy surrounded by trees and a beautiful sky with clouds. Primitive, but a very good beginning.

“Now this is amazing. I love it. Was it fun?”

“Grandma, it was fun. I kind of like it, too. Next time I come over I want to paint something different. Maybe a tree or some kind of scenery. Okay?”

“That’s great. I knew you’d love to paint. I could feel it in my bones.” We drank our lemonade and she had to leave when her mom came to pick her up.

She visited my art studio for a year, every time wanting to paint a picture. Then she’d look at her work and smile saying, “This one is better than the other one, right?” I always told her I loved all of them.

One day she came over to spend the weekend, and she asked for a larger canvas. She wanted to paint a bigger painting of a field of daisies. I agreed and she put the larger canvas in place and picked her own colors. It took her two days, but she finished her Field of Daisies… as she named it.

I was so proud of her. “I love it and if you want, take this one home and hang it in your room. Sign your painting below. This is YOUR work of art.”

She put her initials...  ML,  and said, "Yes, this is my art. I'm the artist."

When her mom came to pick her up after that weekend, she said goodbye with her painting in her hands. As she headed to the car, she tells me… “Grandma, I’m not bored anymore and I don’t think of boys as much either. I have plenty of time to have a boyfriend. I love painting in your studio.”

I gave her a big hug and said to myself… mission accomplished.