IS IT ART? WHAT IF THE GRANDKIDS USE PAINT AND SLEDGEHAMMERS?

Is it art? You tell me. I used to think art took a mature mind, a sharp eye, a considered approach. Then I met my future brotherhood and it changed everything. That's right, my mature friends, I'm going to brag on my grandkids.

Sure, great art usually looks like something. Like this piano. You know, paint, applied with a brush, using colors on a palette, like that. In my previous life, I picked up the habit myself, just to get my mind off of an ever-present to-do list.

This unknown artist is one of many, in my hometown, who took part in a "Keying Around in Sequim" piano-painting contest. Tigers don't have blue eyes. But I think I may know why this tiger does. 

Stare at a red tomato for a minute. Remove it and stare at the afterimage. You still see the tomato, but it's chrome green, the complement of red. This effect is called optical scintillation. Our brain enjoys it when that happens because it's harmonious. Yep, blue is the complement of orange. 

My youngest grandson is too young to understand any of that. He paints whatever he likes, which is always good advice for kids who are just picking up a brush. 

Here comes my humble brag: he was six years old last year when he used a photo to paint this ocean scene. Call it a derived work. Do you see the complements of blue/violet and orange/yellow?

I think it's like anything else in life: one needs to be bold but, sometimes, just the right amount is juuusst right.

Then there's this. Last month, his older brother, just before he turned 10, asked me, "Hey, Gramps, can you help me make some barricades? My birthday party needs a nerf Battle Royale in the front yard." His words: Battle Royale. "Can we make them together?" "Sure," I said. 
So I cut out some 2'x4' sheets of oriented-strand board, bought some non-complementary paint and, one afternoon on the lawn, he and his younger-brother assistant began to paint with brushes.

Then, like any unfettered kids, they flung brush loads of paint, a la Jackson Pollock, onto their OSB canvases. Sure, I'm all in with that, so I poured more paint onto the boards and gave them a sledgehammer to smash it with.

Finally, after my bros were covered in paint, I gave them each a chocolate chip cookie and sent them home. I got a very nice note from their parents. "Thanks a lot, Gramps."  

I love abstract art, don't you? No? Try turning it upside down. The beholder gets to see what fine art is. For me? Watching my young brotherhood make art? That was priceless. I'm going to frame this one and hang it in the living room.

                                  OR A SWELL BOOK ON PROSTATE CANCER?


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