Dear Perplexed,
You ask how you can nurture your daughter’s creativity, without adding pressure that will spoil the fun. You’ve got plans for art projects that will let her express herself and gain mastery of the materials. You’re not trying to turn her into Picasso. But you do value artistic creativity and want to pass it on. You want her to enjoy the full-bodied, full-sensory joy of creating her own real art. But you also know that your time is stretched thin, you probably feel overly-responsible for her growth, you don’t want to set burdensome expectations, and you certainly don’t want her creative experiences to end with art tear-stained or torn to shreds.
It’s reassuring to remember that humans have evolved to create and to appreciate beauty. We’re hard-wired for aesthetic pleasure. (Frederick Turner, poet and literary scholar, describes “neurocharms,” those harmonies in words, music, movement and images that we’re born to enjoy.) The natural world shows endless beauty: the color and shape of a sunflower, the bold and intricate pattern of a peacock’s tail, the pleasing proportions of a conch shell. When we create art, we express something deep within, something that connects us to the natural world. At its best, making art is the freedom to do what comes naturally. It is spontaneous and joyful. It is a deep pleasure. And children, better than any adult, remind us of its delight.
My advice is: keep it simple. Have basic materials for your daughter’s creative use—crayons, markers, simple paints, and lots of paper. You can also add scissors and glue, construction paper, fabric scraps, anything colorful. Egg cartons, cardboard and pipe cleaners make great sculptures. And there’s always the play-dough you make from scratch. When the materials stay basic, there’s lots of room to experiment. You don’t have to worry that supplies are too precious.
Emphasize the process. Resist the temptation to show what you can make with the egg-carton. If she wants your help drawing a horse or a tree, kindly and firmly remind er: “You get to draw it the way you want. I won’t put my marks on your paper. Then it wouldn’t be your picture.” You might, in a child-appropriate way, remind her of Aristotle’s view. “The aim of art,” wrote the ancient Greek philosopher, “is to represent not the external appearance of things, but their inward significance.” Or, as Paul Klee (the Swiss-born German artist) said, “one eye sees, the other feels.”
Once your daughter has finished the picture, you get to enjoy it together. You don’t have to hover and discuss every work as soon as she’s done. Let her come to you when she has something to share. Or, if that hasn’t happened, find a natural time—like the end of the day—to say you’re interested in seeing her pictures. I always find it helpful to reflect back the child’s effort. “Wow, you drew so much detail here. And over here, you added so many bright colors.” And most important, I say how much I like to look at it.
Then, there’s the story the picture tells. I avoid direct questions, because they can come across as intrusive and demanding, too close to test questions, with the pressure to “answer right.” I’ll start with an invitation to tell me about the picture, and then show interest in the details. “And this here? You added something else.” With an action-packed picture, it’s natural to say, “There’s a lot going on in this picture. I want to hear the story.” Sometimes I might explore further. “Oh, she looks so happy. Something made her happy.” Or, “oh, a big fight here! There’s a reason they’re fighting.” At times, I might even add a musing of my own, a trial balloon that doesn’t take over. “Did she take his favorite toy? But of course, it’s your story.” I try to keep an open, curious stance, interested in the picture’s endless richness, and still respectful of the child’s privacy. Most important is that delicious experience of sufficiency, the satisfaction that we’ve talked enough, without my always pushing for more. Children enjoy the gift of easy hanging out, relaxed enjoyment of their art, open space if they want to add a thought.
Remember, we’re also hard-wired to connect, to share understanding. We probably all over-do it at times, forgetting to trust that connections happen naturally. With my suggestions here, I’ve tried to keep things simple and fun as you support your daughter making art. If you feel over-burdened, take this advice with a grain of salt. Every family finds their own way. Most important, you and your daughter have a rich opportunity. You get to share one of the deepest human pleasures—the enjoyment of beauty and creativity. It becomes a year-round, and life-long, pleasure.
Thoughtfully yours, Dr. Miriam