Strikes, strokes and strength: Part II
LAST week, I shared our trip to Art Fair 2019. I shared my belief that art is a great way to teach kids that mistakes and failure are beautiful parts of life. I always felt that our world often puts great weight on perfection. When you ask many business tycoons or experts in their field, however, they will always say they learned most from their mistakes. I asked myself: Is there really a way to impart this strength of facing mistakes to our kids?
My earliest memory was when I was 3. I was being punished inside a washroom of Little Green School because I was too talkative. My next memory was not passing the entrance exam of my first big school at age 4 because I cried in front of our principal. When I finally got in that school at 5, I was determined to do my best. I ended up receiving the gold medal. This started my journey of pressured expectations.
Art had a unique role in my life. When I wanted to be a painter at 6, I was told it was not a worthy profession. It took a lot of work for me to excel in school. But with every free time I had, I was either playing with my flesh and green clay containers, or doing watercolor. I loved folding the paper in half, doing my mix of colors on one side, then folding it to be reflected on the other side. Even when I watered the plants, I would use the hose to form figures on the ground.
I also loved to doodle. I loved to create colorful motivational quotes, especially when I got an unfavorable grade in school. I had different art versions of “Study Very Well” each year on my corkboard. I decorated my calendars and made colorful notes. I loved getting my hands dirty with my Craypas. This was a type of oil pastels that allowed you to spread the crayon line into blurry images. I always felt a sense of relaxation and delight even when injecting colors had nothing to do with the subject matter.
It’s like I was holding my breath to always be perfect but art allows me to freely breathe to move and strive. Needless to say, I encountered many failure in my life. From academic, social, career, to even familial issues, I would doodle and write poetry as you see in one of the photos shown here. Today, when I travel, I have my set of coloring gears and unlined notebooks. I would spend free hours in the museum, especially on modern art. In my melancholic or any “thinking” day or even in the middle of a stressful issue at work, I have my colored pens and then it’s off to doodling mind maps.
I have always wanted to raise my kids with the “comfort” of art. As much as I wanted them to peg goals, I also wanted them to go through their journey with the relaxation that art provides. As early as when they turned 1, I had art time with them. I even enrolled them in My Masterpiece. It was a school that introduced different creative media at a young age. They had finger paint and egg crayons lying around. I took my kids to museums as early as they were 2. Ayala Museum was a frequent Sunday morning ritual. We would go through the historical dioramas and end up with the masterpieces on the top floor. It was not because I was gearing them up to be artists one day. I just loved the “act of breathing” art connoted. I have always imagined artists releasing their thoughts without boundaries, never planning the stroke, never fearing mistakes, but ending up with a work that pleased their own soul.
True enough, when my daughter turned 3, I saw her intensity to be far stronger than my own. I didn’t need to push because she pushed herself. I enrolled her in Global Art. I saw how relaxed she felt. Today, she excels in school and recently got into fencing. She pushed herself to get a medal in her first interschool competition, which she did. Amid all the work, I would see her doodle on her own. We would go to Sip n Gogh, a place where you can get on-the-spot art lessons, at times to unwind together. Art soothes and gives her the room to breathe.
I guess art exposes kids to a “no mistake” attitude early on. Even if you spill paint on paper, that’s fine. It may even result to a beautiful image. Even if you dirty yourself with art materials, you can always wash it off after. That’s why when my kids started school, our weekends were filled with art time. Eventually, I saw them creating art on their own. Whether it was blending colors or building something abstract with Lego blocks, to finding Fortnite figures online to recreate on ink, my kids have expanded their dimension beyond the distinct right or wrongs of academics.
The best lesson art teaches my kids is finding glory in mistakes. For every stroke, kids see that it brings an uncertain picture. When life strikes a different direction, they know that life was not meant to be perfect or controlled. As we continuously embrace art in our lives, I hope to teach my kids that even if one was a consistent honor student or achiever, one should not fall into the trap of that “look down” judgment if one makes a mistake. Instead, even when life gives us the most unexpected and even the “ugliest picture,” we are able to view it from an art-infused lens and transform it into a beautiful experience. ■