Holding on to the Art.

This is what the living room looked like an hour after I went to work on all that art.  The mess you saw yesterday included many "quick drawings" by the kids.  It included sticker collages and stamping spectaculars.

I did not need to keep those.

I did have a small moments of doubt.  "Should I keep this?"  What if some tragedy happens tomorrow, I would treasure having this 8 by 11 piece of wrinkled paper with dinosaur stamps and firefighter stickers on it.  Treasure. it.

But then rational thought kicked in and I saw it for what it was.  A great expression of creativity at the time.  Something BB created while I made dinner.  One of 500 similar works EG puts together on any given weekend.  Because they made it, it is special to me.  I could talk myself into keeping every creation they ever made, citing their creative energy and mental passion.  But to keep everything they ever touched, glued or cut might border on child worship.  A trend in today's parenting that I try to buck.

So I tossed most of it away.  Just like that.

They each have a bin of works full of items that I know took a bit more time--the pieces that culminated a project at school or are samplings of their handwriting/drawing at certain ages.  I kept the stuff I want to frame and use in the house.

I found this idea on Pinterest and am hoping to create this soon.  I need to find some interesting frames to use.  I had the thought that you could just glue or secure the clip on to the existing frame back (taking out the glass).  Then it would only require one nail hole/measuring attempt.




I know of few people who take photos of the art and then make a photo book out of it.  Something about that seems unsatisfying for me.  I want to be able to touch it...or simply toss it.  Love it as much and for as long as I can before it just has to go.  The pieces that I plan to save in keepsake boxes may never be fully appreciated.  I know this.  Even if it is torn and folded and faded by the time the kids take it out to look at in 20 years, I want them to be able to hold what their young selves made.

For me, the smell of tempera paint is half the experience.  And I smelled a lot of it yesterday.