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Down the rabbit hole I seem to go, and I'm whispering the words of that hare, "I'm Late, I'm Late, I'm Late, for a very important date.
There is a narrow space in time, much like a rocket ship running down through a tunnel at a tremendous speed, when children are open and willing, anxious to learn. It is the time before they become enthralled with their own decision making as to what they are (or aren't) going to do.
This summer was that place of the quantum leap for my grands. For one that raced away from me, alas never to be caught again, I'm sorry. If I could be around during her young married life, then she would be coming to beg for information and wisdom, but at the moment the mysticism of her own awareness is too great to penetrate.
Today, July 26, 2010 we browsed through the videos showing artists working with calligraphy, and a new world opened up to them. To keep the word in their mind we went to the ceramic shop to purchase a platter in green ware. On that platter are now saved the words, "Calligraphy, Beautiful Writing" If the platter only remains until Thanksgiving before it is broken (but, somehow I feel it will endure for much longer) still it will have served to remind them of this new world where letters become pictures and save the most beautiful phrases of Robert Burns, or silliness of Popeye, and even profound phrases from the literature of our Bible.
We did one more thing, too. To practice folding roses from ribbon was just that, "practice." Tomorrow we will make roses of satin tubes, and because they have become skilled in folding the petals back and forth I look forward to some lovely satin roses to sew on flapper knit hats for the up coming winter.
It's all about art, not the unattainable, but the everyday objects to make their lives rich like wedding invitations decorated themselves by their own hand in calligraphy. Truly,
an artist is never impoverished, I tell them.
Donna
There is a narrow space in time, much like a rocket ship running down through a tunnel at a tremendous speed, when children are open and willing, anxious to learn. It is the time before they become enthralled with their own decision making as to what they are (or aren't) going to do.
This summer was that place of the quantum leap for my grands. For one that raced away from me, alas never to be caught again, I'm sorry. If I could be around during her young married life, then she would be coming to beg for information and wisdom, but at the moment the mysticism of her own awareness is too great to penetrate.
Today, July 26, 2010 we browsed through the videos showing artists working with calligraphy, and a new world opened up to them. To keep the word in their mind we went to the ceramic shop to purchase a platter in green ware. On that platter are now saved the words, "Calligraphy, Beautiful Writing" If the platter only remains until Thanksgiving before it is broken (but, somehow I feel it will endure for much longer) still it will have served to remind them of this new world where letters become pictures and save the most beautiful phrases of Robert Burns, or silliness of Popeye, and even profound phrases from the literature of our Bible.
We did one more thing, too. To practice folding roses from ribbon was just that, "practice." Tomorrow we will make roses of satin tubes, and because they have become skilled in folding the petals back and forth I look forward to some lovely satin roses to sew on flapper knit hats for the up coming winter.
It's all about art, not the unattainable, but the everyday objects to make their lives rich like wedding invitations decorated themselves by their own hand in calligraphy. Truly,
an artist is never impoverished, I tell them.
Donna