April 17, 2012
Daily Tamsyn reminds me of Kelly (my sister), the ability to confidently draw whatever she wants, the loud laugh (which I also have been accused of bellowing), the quick learner with mechanical aptitude, the sewer who designs her own projects, the generous spirit who makes things for others. No doubt some of these abilities are also her father's, but I hear and see Kelly each day as if she is living with me still.
Then she reminds me of myself, intensely creative and self absorbed, while working on a project or reading a book. The reckless abandon in the kitchen and the love of swimming, both visceral experiences. She feels deeply about others expressing empathy and love. She takes pride in preparing a meal from setting the table to serving the food. She thoroughly enjoys humor. And secretly, she loves to sing and desires privacy to explore her own ideas.
Tamsyn is the oldest child, like Kelly. At nine years old, she is just like a child, one minute running and playing with Griffyn, and the next minute she is making everyone breakfast learning quickly on her own. Second children, like Griffyn (and me) can stay young because the older sibling is eager to take on the responsibility that we evade. In some respects, I stayed young for years beyond my youth. I suppose that is called immaturity. If so art schools pride themselves on bringing that young part of us back to life either to haunt us or to playfully guide us to maturity. Art work works how ever you need it to work - if you are still able to play.
And some days I see my own critical self (the impatient teacher, the tired mother, the artist missing art) pushing the first precocious child to grow up quickly to understand the world - while she yearns to play with her younger sibling. Because I cannot make her like me, a second child, I must show her how to find the child in herself whenever she wants.
latest painting by Carrie