Technique.
Grace, ever the artist, is still quite fascinated with Van Gogh. (Read this post if you missed Grace channeling her inner-Van Gogh.) I eventually found her a book, not really grade level reading, but I figure she could look at the pictures. No, she read it. Cover to cover.
In the back of the book is a map of the museums around the world where Van Gogh's most iconic works are housed. Needless to say, Grace now really, really wants us to take her to Paris on vacation. She'll be good and she really wants to go. (If only it were that simple. Chad I really want to go to Rome. I'll be good and I'll come back before Grace graduates from high school. Promise.)
Today, when Chad walked in from work he saw this:
"So painting, huh?"
Oh yeah, they painted. When I started to clean up so we could eat dinner, I realized that in addition to their pictures they had also COVERED the table, splattered paint all over the walls, floor, blinds, and kitchen curtains. {sigh}
I just cleaned it up. I didn't freak out - I'm pretty proud of myself, actually. But when they came up for dinner I said "girls, if you are so wild when you paint next time, then that will be the last time you paint."
G: "We weren't wild."
L: "Then how did it get all over the walls?"
B: {rat-finking out her sister} "That was Grace. She was going like this {demonstrates a wrist flicking motion}"
L: "Ok, well Grace that's too wild."
G: "It's not wild, Mom. It's splatter painting. You know, like, um..."
L: "Jackson Pollock?"
G: "Yes! Like Jackson Pollock. I was practicing my splatter painting."
Now how can you argue with that? Though I'm pretty sure to save her sanity at some point Jackson Pollack's mother probably made him practice his splatter painting in the garage.
P.S. I washed the kitchen curtains to remove the gobs of green paint. Then I dried them. Then they shrank 4 inches. Attractive.
In the back of the book is a map of the museums around the world where Van Gogh's most iconic works are housed. Needless to say, Grace now really, really wants us to take her to Paris on vacation. She'll be good and she really wants to go. (If only it were that simple. Chad I really want to go to Rome. I'll be good and I'll come back before Grace graduates from high school. Promise.)
Today, when Chad walked in from work he saw this:
"So painting, huh?"
Oh yeah, they painted. When I started to clean up so we could eat dinner, I realized that in addition to their pictures they had also COVERED the table, splattered paint all over the walls, floor, blinds, and kitchen curtains. {sigh}
I just cleaned it up. I didn't freak out - I'm pretty proud of myself, actually. But when they came up for dinner I said "girls, if you are so wild when you paint next time, then that will be the last time you paint."
G: "We weren't wild."
L: "Then how did it get all over the walls?"
B: {rat-finking out her sister} "That was Grace. She was going like this {demonstrates a wrist flicking motion}"
L: "Ok, well Grace that's too wild."
G: "It's not wild, Mom. It's splatter painting. You know, like, um..."
L: "Jackson Pollock?"
G: "Yes! Like Jackson Pollock. I was practicing my splatter painting."
Now how can you argue with that? Though I'm pretty sure to save her sanity at some point Jackson Pollack's mother probably made him practice his splatter painting in the garage.
P.S. I washed the kitchen curtains to remove the gobs of green paint. Then I dried them. Then they shrank 4 inches. Attractive.
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