Leaves hold an amazing amount of intrigue for my Kindergarten artists — and for me! I love collecting leaves as I hike, especially knowing I’m going to share them with my artists. I purposefully look for leaves that have a lovely color, an interesting shape, or an exaggerated size (large or small).
When I come in with my stash of leaves, I am always greeted with a plethora of questions and comments.
Ooooh! Where’d you get those?
They’re so BIG (or small).
What are you going to do with them ?
Can I touch them?
Can I have this one?
More questions, comments, oohs and aahhs, and claiming of leaves, come as I explain, “We’re going to paint them.”
The intrigue gets to a fever pitch as I pull out our antique paper press.
The circle of Kindergartners tighten in around me and the press. Their curiosity is peaked, and they have more questions.
Ooooh! What’s that?
What are you going to do with that?
Why are you doing that?
Can I do it?
I tell them it’s a press, and we’re going to use it to press the leaves so that they will dry flat instead of curled and wrinkly. I explain a few safety issues, and let everyone take a turn loading leaves and paper towels, and cranking the press tight. The burning question becomes: “Can we paint them NOW?” I respond: “Nope, they need to stay in the press until tomorrow.”
“This is going to be an exercise in patience.” I say only to myself.
Finally tomorrow arrives. We open the press and extract the leaves. The Kindergartners are mesmerized by the intense flatness of each leaf. The gently sort through the leaves and choose their favorites.
We paint the leaves using paint markers. The markers allow the artists to more easily add detail. I join them at the table with my own favorite leaf. Sometimes they are very talkative — admiring each others work. At other moments they are silent, eyes, mind, and hands intent on creating the perfect piece of leaf art. The structure of the leaf sometimes guides their design, at other times, they approach the leaf as more of a blank canvas. Always, the uniqueness of painting a leaf — versus a piece of paper — grabs their attention and interest.
I’m fascinated by the way photos — intentionally taken — remove the smallness of the Kindergartners. Instead their hands could the the hands of any aged artist. I love that.
I decided to take photos that highlighted their leaf art. I processed the photos to remove the saturation and color from the background leaving their leaves as the stars, while still including a bit of information about each artist.
When you have leaves available to you, give this a try. It’s a fun activity that is filled with opportunity for exploration, learning, trying, collaborating, creating, and growing as artists and a community. Oh! And if you ever have the change to pick up an old paper press on the cheap –grab it! The possibilities in the classroom are endless.
The three wisemen have begun their trek to the manger and Jesus. Today they stopped to rest in front of an art piece of mine.
Today, as the Kings stopped to rest, I too paused, and looked at them, and the art.
I imagined their journey in real life. They must have had to pause, breathe and remind themselves of the possibility their faith told them lay before them. They chose to begin the journey, and I suspect they might have needed to affirm their choice more than once as they walked together.
I imagine walking with them and pausing before this giant graffitied wall. We encourage each other with the words we see “Inhale peace, exhale tension. Trust. Pray.” Waking after a long day, and a not so long night’s rest, we eat, pray, and do some much needed stretching. As the sun rises, I don my sunglasses to shield my eyes from its brilliant rays. I love the idea of rising and burning like the sun, so I encourage myself, and my brother Kings to burn bright like the sun. We set off in search of the amazing possibility of a child King. Our faith creates hope, and our hope feeds our faith.
As I breathe and type these thoughts, I’m struck — again — by the power of art, word, reflection and imagination. I make a mental note to keep beauty and encouraging words near at hand, and to travel with companions willing to burn like the sun together, grateful for the happiness in each present moment we encounter.
I had a parent teach conference the other day. As we talked about the many ways the Kindergartner had grown and blossomed, the mom said “Her handwriting is the one thing I think can still use work.” I chuckled, agreed, and then said “But — and I mean this in the best possible way — I think her handwriting hasn’t improved because she doesn’t care about it. She isn’t invested in it.” Now it was the mom’s turn to chuckle. “Oh yeah, you’re absolutely right. She just wants to get it done so she can move on to something else.”
As I went about my day that stayed on my mind. I recalled this post of mine — Teach for Delight. How might I infuse our handwriting work with a bit more delight? Even saying it sounds funny, but I’m sure there is a way. Here are some of my first thoughts: practicing words they love, writing to people they love, writing sentences and phrases they love, writing jokes, making name tags, decorating their cubbies and the room. The possibilities are endless. I just need to embrace the idea that interest and delight are important and possible — even with handwriting — and then set to making it happen.
I thought about teaching for delight again last week as I prepared for art. My curriculum has many fantabulous inspiration artists, coupled with processes and products that are Kindergarten friendly and appropriate. The Kindergartners enjoy art, and their products are beautiful. But, I was sensing that there was just too much structure for them at the moment. They needed the freedom to simply and completely play. They needed an assignment that allowed them to embrace the process and product with the smallest amount of outside interference possible.
I thought and thought. What artist might we use? How can we do it in the time allotted? How might I structure it so that their process and product would be enjoyable and satisfying? I quickly landed on finger painting as the process. But, how to elevate it a bit to show them, and others, that their work is indeed art? That was a sticking point for a bit of time. Finally, I decided I could help by taping a boarder on their paper, and by trusting them as artists.
With a good bit more thinking, I had the process and rules in place. * Each artist could choose up to 4 colors. * Each artist must do at least one practice piece, but could do a total of three. * Each artist would be kind to themselves and others by: not touching their face or hair, not touching their friends, walk with clasped hands when walking around the room. * I will prepare a tray, paper, and a paint holder/plate for each artist.
When I announced the project, there were audible gasps and expressions of delight. They listened intently as I explained the process and rules. They were patient, but clearly wanted to get started right away. I told them I would let them know when we were nearly half way through the class so that they could know they should begin working on their final piece. They all agreed that they understood, and had no questions, so I began handing out supplies.
Each artist placed their tray — lined with construction paper — at their spot. They placed one 9X12 inch practice sheet on top of the tray, and one underneath the tray. If they wanted to keep their practice sheets they placed their initials on the back. If they wanted to donate it to the maker trolley for everyone to use, they left the page blank. Then, they picked up their paper plate and stood in line for paint. Their choices were deliberate and purposeful. Each artist was clear about the colors they wanted to work with for this project. Once they received their colors they began creating.
It was interesting to watch the various ways they chose to interact with the paint. Some worked with one color at a time. Others worked with a few at a time. Some worked with one finger. Others worked with both hands, covering the paper — and their hands — with color. On some pieces the colors were distinct, on others the colors melded into one.
I wandered around the room, stopping at each artist’s work to comment on what I noticed. I frequently said “Oh! That is lovely! What a great idea. I never thought of doing that!” I also asked “Are you finished?” Most of the time, the artists responded to my question with a definite “No.” I was committed to allowing this to be a moment when I taught for delight, and to respecting the fact that this was their piece of art and delight, not mine, so each time I responded, “Okay.”
Sometimes that’s a difficult place for us to stand as educators. But, it truly doesn’t matter if I think it’s beautiful. It matters that the artist thinks it’s beautiful, and it matters that I respect that. The only time I intervened was if I thought the paint was so thick that it might crack off the page, or if artist’s hands were dripping wet after washing and were likely to destroy their paper or process.
The results — in both process and product — were remarkably varied and beautiful.
The delight they experienced helped them to be more invested in the process. Being invested in the process helped them stay on task. Seeing, experiencing, and supporting their delight helped me to breathe a bit more, which allowed for there to be increased relaxation and ease in our learning space. All in all, it was lovely, and served to reinforce my believe that teaching for delight is essential.
As I finished putting her together, I thought, “She looks pretty good, not perfect, but pretty good.” Since my inner critic was in a talkative mood, I engaged. “True, but is perfection the goal?” I wasn’t being sassy. I was genuinely inquiring. We were both quiet for a bit.
Then I noticed the words “think of all the beauty.” I didn’t specifically pick them to be part of this piece. They fell out of my box as I was choosing other things. But, I noticed them. And, I let them speak to me. Once they spoke, I knew they were the answer, and I knew I had to figure out a way to include them in this piece.
That’s the goal. Think of all the beauty — in art, in life, in ourselves and others. Think of all the beauty.
Learn, be, create, enjoy, and think of all the beauty. Notice it. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Celebrate it. And, preach it.
So, my art and I sit here and preach on. Think of all the beauty.
I embarked on some spring cleaning the other day. To my delight, amidst the piles of things to go through, I discovered a few Barnes and Noble gift cards. The best part is, they still had money on them!!! (By the way, are you wondering why I’d be delighted to find a gift card with no money on it? I wouldn’t be as delighted as I am now, but I’d be happy, because they are nice substitutes for palette knives, and they’re free!) The cards had enough money on them that I was able to buy a cooking magazine for my mom, a magazine about Johnny Cash for my dad, and a Keto bread baking book for my brother. Today I bought some ingredients we needed to make wheat free keto bagels! Can you say “Oh, my, GOSH!?
But I digress.
This is what I bought for myself.
The cover gave me a great idea of how to combine two art projects into one that I think will have my Kindergarten artists quite enthralled. But, the inspiration doesn’t end there. There’s a ton more inside, along with — like it says — artist papers and interactive pages. How can you contain yourself? Go buy it now! And, alas, no, I won’t get a commission if you purchase this magazine. I just think it will make you happy, and give you ideas for more creativity and art in your life, and that would be fantabulous.
After flipping through the book, I marked a few spots with paper clips, and set to work on a project of torn paper collage. This particular collage was small in scale, and relatively simply in form. The artist used one set of torn paper to create a background, and then another to create a person in the foreground. Her work was amazing, and her paper choices were great – one particular choice made me laugh out loud it was so awesome.
After reading her instructions, and studying her work a bit more, I pulled out my paper stash, and began picking papers I might use in my art. For my background, I chose papers with text from a handwritten and printed. I allowed my choices to be a combination of purposeful and random. I moved the papers around until I was satisfied with the layout, and pasted them to my base.
I went back to my stash to find the papers I wanted to use to create the image of the girl. I picked out a few different ones, placed them next to one another, and imagined them as the various parts of the girl. I ripped a few and tried them again next to one another. I rejected some as others came together into a pleasing semblance of face, hair, and body. I looked at my compilation from various angles. I re-ripped and re-placed. I added my own twist to the form of the girl so that I could see words I had purposefully chosen to have in the background. I lost track of how many times I said, “Hmmm, I wonder … ”
Finally I got to a stage that was photo-worthy. I want to remember how I placed her so as not to lose that inspiration as I continue to think. I’m loving the way it looks now but I’m also pretty sure there is more to come. This stage is lovely, but it’s also a bit safe. There’s a lot of wondering and thinking I’m going to have to test out before adding it to my work.
Do I want to do an acrylic wash on the background? Do I want to add a color to the edges of the ripped pieces making up the girl? What color? What facial features do I want to add? Do I want to keep it as a card, or cut it and frame it?
I shared this image with a friend. She said, “You’re so talented” Then, she chuckled and said, “How come you’re so talented?” She’s the second person to tell me how talented I am in as many days. I should probably take it as a sign to embrace, accept, and celebrate the talent I have been given. And yet, at the same time, I want to point out that I don’t think I’m that much more talented than anyone else.
What I am is super willing to try, and try again and again. I sit with things, look at them, take them apart, and wonder about what I notice. I love to play. Sometimes I play just for the fun of it — not noticing anything I learned until later. Other times I play in order to discover if there are new ways to do things, or ways to synergistically combine things, or ways to switch things up to make something even better.
So, am I talented? Yes. Am I crazy talented more than everyone else? No.
Everyone is creative and artistic — yes, even you! And, everyone can be more creative and more artistic. You just have to take a breath and give it a go. Put in the time, the thought, and the energy. Have fun, play, and trust the process.
This week my Kindergarten inspirational artist was Ashley Bryan. What a remarkably talented artist. He’s a painter, a storyteller, a writer, and a collage artist — to name just a few of his artistic pursuits. Any one of those might lend itself to an art project. But, which one would work for my students, with the supplies they have, in the time we have? And, which one could I successfully model for them remotely?
I spent days researching Ashley. I studied his art, listened to him speak, and read articles about him. And then I did it all again. I was quite struck by two things he said:
I make flowers of all my mistakes.
and
In Kindergarten we made our first books … little one of a kind, limited editions. Bringing them home was the greatest reward.
That was the my first aha, We could be inspired by Ashley’s flowers, and his recollection — in his 90’s — of the joy he had at creating his own books in Kindergarten. My artists’ finished flower art pieces would become the covers for their own one of a kind, limited edition journals.
When I shared that with my artists, one asked “But what are we going to put in it.” I shrugged my shoulders and said “I’m not sure. It’s your journal. You’re the artist. What are you going to put it in?” She persisted, “But what can we put in it?” I persisted, too. “You’re the artist, you can put whatever you want in it.” Murmurs filled the room and wafted towards me across our remote connection. I smiled as I watched them begin to plan what would fill their journals.
But, I get ahead of myself.
I had the flower journal idea, but I wasn’t sure how I could help my artists emulate the loose style I perceived in Ashley’s flowers. Back I went to examining his work and words. I contemplated lots of possibilities, but each one felt less than exciting, and didn’t quite measure up to what I was hoping to achieve.
Then I saw Ashley’s lithograph and stained glass window work. That was it! Both of those included black lines and shapes. This would allow my artists to use their black markers to create the loose flowers. They could then use watercolor paint to add the color. I chose to focus on the stained glass creations because they included the color found in Ashley’s paintings.
The process and product of my Kindergarten artists was joy-filled, courageous, and filled with sharing of ideas. As an educator, I was super satisfied. As an artist, my creative thinking, and artist work continued.
I always make a demo piece, and then work on my own art as my Kindergarten artists work on theirs. This was my demo piece.
I liked it. But as I looked at it, I wondered what else I might do to it? How might I take it further? Was there something I might do to take it beyond a Kindergarten project? And of course, the ever present question “What if I mess it up?” It always makes me laugh out loud when I hear myself wonder that. It keeps me humble, and reminds me how brave my K artists are each time they take up their tools and get to work.
I got my white paint pen and began adding marks. I thought the detail would be what I needed to add some sort of pop. I was wrong. I got more pens and added more colors and marks. It got better, but then it seemed to have lost its original connection to Ashley Bryan as the flowers and black lines became less pronounced. Much like when I prepared to teach my lesson, I took a break. Each time I passed my art, I gave it a look — many looks, from many different angles. I contemplated many what ifs, and, maybes.
Finally a possibility made enough sense so as to become a plan. I decided to paint all the negative space with titanium white.
I am totally digging the result of my creative thinking, and artistic doing.
i created a second piece so I could paint with my artists during our second class. I was inspired by their drawings — some had intense amounts of detail, others had butterflies, birds, and lady bugs. The plethora of flowers and nature set off the white of the framed word in a great way. I loved it as a black and white piece.
Then I added paint with with Kindergarten artists.
It’s nice, and it was admired by all, but I’m not loving it. Perhaps it’s the starkness of the word frame compared to the color. Perhaps the color has muddied the detail of the background. I’m not exactly sure.
For now I look, wonder, and ponder possibilities. But soon, I paint.
There is such power and joy in being able embrace oneself as an artist. An artist able to:
be inspired by other artists
use that inspiration to create your own art
inspire others
make creative and artistic decisions
carry out your plan or
enjoy the freedom of artistic and creative play and experimentation
speak your truth through your art
embrace your artist-self by choosing your own name (Hundertwasser)
share your understanding and vision by naming your artwork (Thomas)
The power and joy explodes, I think, when you can do all these things as a young child.
Last week my Kindergarten artists explored the work and life of Alma Thomas. She began her career as a representational artist, and later in her artist journey embraced abstract art. Amazingly, at the age of 80 in the early 1970’s she became the first African American woman to have a solo exhibit at the Whitney Museum in NYC.
The kindergarten artists loved Alma’s use of color, and enjoyed trying to guess what she named each of her paintings. They worked hard — first in their sketch books and then on the final watercolor paper — to recreate with crayons, the marks Alma made with acrylic paint. By the way, in case you’ve never tried it, it takes a lot of dedication to fill a 9X12 piece of paper with marks the size of your thumb.
As my artists worked in the classroom, I worked alongside them in my home studio. Like them I made my own crayon marks, and then added layers of watercolor wash. My work was often interrupted by “Hey Ms. James. This is …..,” as they slid their work under the document camera so we could marvel and talk together.
Encouraging them to include all the elements we noticed in Alma’s work, yet at the same time allowing them to make their own artistic and creative decisions and plans, is a delicate line to walk. I often wonder how close their work has to look to our inspirational artist’s work.
As I’ve worked with them this year, I’ve become more convinced that there are four non-negotiables. My fantabulous artists must:
include the elements of the original piece that we notice and spoke about together
be free to use their big beautiful brains and awesome hearts to decide how to incorporate the elements into their art
be allowed, encouraged, and enabled to find joy in their process and product
come to know themselves as artists
So, I work on pointing out what I see — what I see that reflects the elements we discussed, the things I notice are missing, and the many things I wonder about. I do my best to guide my artists to walk that delicate line of agency and requirements with me. Sometimes I set them free to make the decision as an artist, sometimes I request they put the artwork down for a bit and then look at it again to see if they are still happy with it, other times we find a compromise that allows them to have freedom while still following the guidelines.
Here are some of our Alma Thomas inspired works of art. I’m always interested to see how they interpret the current artist’s work, and how they incorporate some of the other artists we’ve explored previously. I’m amazed and edified by their title choices. The titles add to the power of the piece. They speak to the audience to share the artist’s thoughts and understanding, and speak to the artists themselves to affirm who they are.
The Master of SjhapesMagical SquaresTornadoes HowlingA Meteor ShowerThe Inspired PaintingArtist’s Lines
When I read their titles my heart is full. These Kindergarten artists are perceptive, thoughtful, confident, and invested in sharing what is in their minds and hearts. Everyday I do my best to affirm them “Indeed my young artist sisters, you are masters. You are inspired and inspiring artists. Don’t every believe anything less.”
I’m teaching art with my Kindergartners and that always has me reflecting on my own process, emotions, and thoughts as a creative.
I’ve been painting when I hike for a few years now, but this year, I began working in a watercolor journal. All the paintings — no matter my opinion of them — are there. I’m always kind of surprised by the courage involved to put pen or paint brush to paper — especially when it is in a bound book, or done without pencil sketching first. I wondered it if I were the only one to feel that. Surely not, I thought.
Looking for affirmation for my feelings I set about finding articles linking courage and creativity. As I looked I stumbled upon this quote by Henri Matisse “Creativity takes courage.” Ah, even the master felt it!
And then, as I read more, I nearly fell out of my chair. Matisse — the man whose pencil drawings of the Madonna enthralled me at the Museo d’Arte e Spiritualita in Brescia, and whose Cut Outs took my breath away at the MOMA — said this:
“It has bothered me all my life that I do not paint like everybody else.”
Wow.
When I read that, I was amazed and encouraged. If Matisse could be bothered that he didn’t paint like everybody else, why would I be surprised that I feel that way? If Matisse said it, and yet went on to embrace his work — grow, change, re-invent himself when he saw fit — then I could, too.
It’s remarkable how freeing it is to know Matisse was bothered that he didn’t paint like everybody else. Somehow that gave me a great sense of freedom. Just paint, draw, do your thing. Notice, think, wonder, and make creative and artistic decisions. Your thing is yours, it’s beautiful, it’s creative, it’s artistic — but most of all, it’s yours.
What if Matisse had stopped doing his own thing and tried to be like everybody else. Yikes! That would have been awful. So I encourage myself — I am in amazing artistic and creative company, and if a master like Matisse could just say “Hey this brings me joy, and expresses what I see and feel” then so can I.
So I paint on. I draw on. Seeing my work, and the work of others for what it is — us.
I photographed daffodils on a recent walk. Wanting to make some art I grabbed a small piece of watercolor and got to work. Is it perfect? No. Is it good? Yes. Did it bring me joy? Yes. Does it bring me joy now as I look at it? Yes. Is it me? Yes. Is it my style? Yes. What more can I ask for?
For now it sits on my desk to remind myself of the joy and awesomeness that is creative and artistic me — the joy and awesomeness of creating from who we are, where we are, with all we are.
When I work with my Kindergartners I want them to have this freedom — the freedom to know they can make great artistic and creative decisions, the freedom to find joy in their process and product even if it looks different than others, the courage to create with confidence in their own fantabulousness.
From Matisse, to me, to them. Who knows where it will go from there?
I’m teaching again! I’m super excited to be back, getting to know the girls, and doing my thing.
One big wrench in the works — or one gigantic and glorious opportunity for new thinking and wonderful possibilities, depending how you look at it — is that I’m teaching remotely. Most of my class is back in school, and one student continues to learn remotely.
It’s a lot of work to teach and develop relationships in person. Now I’m doing that remotely. Can you say “PHEW!”
This week I got to teach art. I could cry with happiness!
And, speaking of crying, I did cry — big ugly crying — as my colleague and I tried to work out the logistics for the art class. We went through many possible iterations, and each one seemed to have a reason it might not, or would not, work. Thank goodness, my colleague was super understanding and encouraging. She told me I was doing a great job and it was only the second day back in school. She assured me we would work it out. and it would be awesome. I decided to believe her, and signed off for a much needed moment and cup of tea.
Once I was settled and able to agree — It is only the second day. I am a fantabulous teacher. It is going to be alright, maybe even better than alright. — I was able to take a breath, and think creatively about what and how to teach. I settled on Hundertwasser.
First I considered how my image might be the large enough for them to see me, and the art I shared, while still allowing me to see all of them. A friend of mine signed on to a zoom call with me — along with her two daughters — to test out spotlighting and pinning. Pinning seemed to be the best choice.
Then I looked at my Hundertwasser books. What images did I have? Could I narrow them down to no more than 5? I wanted the Kindergarten artists to have time to notice, think, and wonder about the art, but I also wanted them to have plenty of time to create their own work, inspired by Hundertwasser.
What did I want them to know about Hundertwasser? I decided on these points:
Hundertwasser was curious and couragous. Hundertwasser did a lot of thinking and imagining. Hundertwasser’s ideas became artwork or buildings. Hundertwasser liked spirals, wavy lines, bricks and stones on his buildings, lollipop trees, and color. Hundertwasser changed his name when he became an artist.
I shared these images with the Kindergarten artists, and we dialogued about them.
Once they were familiar with Hundertwasser, I asked the Kindergarten artists to use their sketchbooks to experiment with, and practice, the various elements. They worked with determination, focus, imagination, courage, and joy. They used the classroom document camera to show their sketches to me. I shared what I noticed, thought, and wondered. I did my best to encourage their artistic freedom and decisions making, while also highlighting the elements we were using from Hundertwasser’s art.
I was surprised how well we were able to interact with one another. Even though we were miles away from one another, they seemed to be able to feel my love, respect, awe, and joy. I worked hard to express it through my emotions, language, and very self. I was very intentional with my words, and actions, so as to be able to express what I was feeling, thinking, and believing about them.
Before the second Hundertwasser inspired class, I again thought deeply about what I would present, as well as what we would discuss. The time and zoom constraints were a blessing — an annoying blessing but a blessing none-the-less. The constraints forced me to be very clear about my purpose and plan.
The Kindergarten artists and I reviewed the elements together, and re-examined the images so they were fresh in our minds. I shared a bit of my thinking as an artist. “I do lots of thinking – and often move my head or step back in order to see my art work in new ways.” I told them Hundertwasser was very thoughtful as well. I assured them that they could do great art thinking, and make great artistic decisions, too! I showed them a few watercolor tricks – using your dry brush as an eraser of sorts, and mixing colors on the page rather than a palette.
Finally I reminded them about Hundertwasser changing his name when he became an artist. Since we are all artists in Kindergarten I suggested we all change our names for this piece of art. I told them some names I was considering, and remarked that Hundertwasser changed his name to something that had meaning to him (peace and water).
After reviewing the steps – pencil first, sharpie marker next, then colored pencils if wanted, and and finally watercolor — I set them free.
I decided to work on my own art while they worked on theirs. I resisted the urge to micromanage them, but instead chose to trust them as artists. One of my colleagues asked if a teacher should see their work before they moved on with each step. Taking a deep breath, and willing myself to continue to trust those artists, I said wanting to be clear to her and the Kindergarten artists, “Nope. We don’t have to see it. They know what they have to do, and I trust them as artists. I’d love to see their work, but they don’t have to show it to me.”
My art was wonderfully interrupted by Kindergarten artists eager to share their work with me. Each time I would do what I did with their sketching. I would affirm their artistic decisions, express awe and joy, notice the elements they had included, and encourage them to think if they might add whatever was missing. But, if they pushed back that they were totally happy with their work, and it didn’t stray too far from the path we were walking together, I accepted their decision.
At the end of the class I heard a call “Ms. James, the artist known as Dog, would like to show you her work. And here is the work of the artist known as Creative Trees. Oh, and the artist known as Swirl, as well as the artist known as Creative Ruby, would also like to show you their work..”
I laughed out loud, and expressed my joy to these fantabulous Hundertwasser-inspired artists. Their work was amazing. Their name choices were spectacular.
I’m SO glad I took the risk and trusted the Kindergarten artists!
Their work didn’t turn out as I imagined it might when I picked Hundertwasser as our inspiration. But, that’s exactly as it should be! Their work turned out like a piece of Hundertwasser- inspired art — created by them, not by me.
Life lived with relentless creativity 