The Met Museum

Jellybean has been studying Jackson Pollack recently. No, not with maple syrup and food on the floor, silly (although sometimes it does feel that way)! At school!

They've done splatter paintings. They've dragged a string through white paint then put it on black paper to see how the paint transfers. They've viewed slides, talked about the artist, and really explored non-representative painting. (perfect for 3 year olds!)

And this past Wednesday, they went to the Met Museum. Boy am I regretting not accompanying her on this trip! Check out the great photos provided by a kind parent that did go:

I love the clipboard in this last shot! She's such a serious student....

Artwork

A recent impressionistic rendition of the sky by Monkey.
(ok, really? no clue. but it's pretty!)

Creative breakthrough

Monkey is a creative child. Her imagination knows no bounds, her dressing skills befits a teenager that scours the September issue of Vogue....but until recently, art hasn't been her thing.

Maybe because we haven't been doing much of it at home...or maybe, just maybe, because Monkey's a lot like both her mom and dad in that we tend to like to do the things we're good at (and not the things we aren't...). No surprises there.

But artwork (and penmanship) is something that is important, so school has really been encouraging Monkey to take chances and put pen to paper (so to speak).

Yesterday, she drew a self-portrait in charcoal, and then signed her name to it.

This is the single most amazing piece of artwork I have ever seen. And yes, I'm slightly proud of my girl.

See? MOMA watch out, Monkey's an artiste!

Harold and the purple crayon

I think I need to get that book for Monkey.

This morning she took a purple crayon and - in no less than 10 seconds - drew all over our white garbage can, our white recycling container, the stove, the cupboards AND the wall.

She threw a wicked temper tantrum when I took away the crayon. But oddly enough, she liked the punishment of having to clean off the walls!

Everybody's a Critic

One of Monkey's Christmas presents from Grandma L was a book of songs and an accompanying cd (with recorded versions of what the songs are supposed to sound like, as opposed to my warbling renditions).

While the cd has been used a few times, the book is in very heavy circulation. Most nights, Monkey will find the book and present it to me, asking me to sing to her.

So I sing.

She'll flip open the book to a page, and I'll start singing whatever song is there (with some exceptions of truly unsingable songs, which I ignore). Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old McDonald, Bingo, Sleep Baby Sleep, Hickory Dickory Dock, It's raining, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so on. All the classics are there.

The only problem? Half the time, I'll be only a few refrains into the song and Monkey will blurt out "No, no, noooo..." and change the page.

Everybody's a critic.

My little Rooster

Monkey has a new artistic love: sidewalk chalk.

We spent quality time outside this weekend, drawing on the sidewalk and generally getting messy. Monkey looked like a hippy once we were done - her pants looked tie-dyed, she had so many different colors on her! I think I washed our hands 3 or 4 times before I finally got all the chalk out from underneath our nails and ground into our cuticles.

In short, this was a hit.

Unfortunately, Monkey liked it so much she asks for it by name, all.the.time. Why do I say unfortunately? Because she drops the "h" from the word. So "chalk" becomes "calk", only it sounds more like "cawk" or, you know, "cock." Snort.

So yes, my daughter is walking around demanding cock. You know, a rooster! Sheesh, what were YOU thinking??????????

Picasso, interrupted

Monkey is exploring her artistic side at her montessori. They color, they paint, and her daily reports have noted that she enjoys using each and every color when painting. A budding Picasso!

However, yesterday's report made me laugh out loud. It spoke about how Monkey was painting, using each color, greatly enjoying herself....and how when she was done, she wadded up the paper and threw it away.

Perhaps our budding genius didn't think her artwork was up to snuff? It was a draft of a masterpiece? Or, maybe, she's just so used to watching me clean up and throw everything away that she assumes that's where all paper goes....

Regardless, I'm convinced she's brilliant. Brilliant! See, she is already starting to read!...... heh