Relative Something

There is something about child-produced art that can capture both rudiment and preeminence. Every day, I walk past paintings that my children created when they were in school and I hardly ever notice them. It is a curious happening that I can suddenly become fascinated by something that is always visible, yet primarily neglected, as I pass by multiple times a day.

This image is of a painting that my son, Julian, signed his name to. One of the primary things that appeals to me in this painting is how well he captured the background, of all things. It is not just that I am happy with the colors present; it is that he captured an image I know so well. That is the base of an old Zenith radio and record turntable that had been around my life for as long as I can remember. There were volumes of 78 rpm records kept in the colored bindings slid into the slots on either side of the speaker. Even the double X of the wood grate in front of the fabric that covered the speaker seems spot-on with deep memories I hold about this classic antique piece.

The cat sprawled on her back with feet pointing in odd angles, seems to be one of the features that looks both a bit primitive, yet at the same time, very appropriately depicts the strange positions she actually assumes at any given opportunity. Last night, I suddenly found myself so enthralled with looking at this painting in the hallway that I had to get the camera so I could share the image with others. Then, in a day or two, it will fade out of sight and return to almost invisible in the hall as I pass by multiple times a day.

It is curious.

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