The Child is the father of the Man. -William Wordsworth

Throughout my life, the quote from Wordsworth that "the child is the father of the man" revisits my mind at unexpected times to remind me about the weight of that poetic insight. On a personal note, some of my most formative art experiences happened as a child, which has led me to respect the playful work of children. There is meaning in what they do, even if they themselves are unaware of it. I grew up in an art friendly home. My mother is a painter who started her studies at the Chicago Art Institute in her youth and continued as an adult. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine was always in the air. She was able to provide enrichment through conversation, history lessons and art experiences. However, what I remember most is the home atmosphere. I never had the impression that I couldn't act on an inspiration, which is why I probably did act upon them all the time. As an adult, I sketched out a large mural wall and a passerby asked me, "how could you do this?" meaning, "how can you just plunge in and scratch such a large area of the painted wall with a pencil. Aren't you afraid of making a mistake?" My initial thought was that if I ever worried about making mistakes, I'd be frozen stiff and too self-conscious to do anything. I'm used to making mistakes, as I do so all the time. Failures and things not turning out the way I thought they would is a way of life for me. In most cases, I'm able to work with the unexpected and go on, but sometimes failures need to be discarded. I felt that way about the wall. Everything I was doing could be covered with a coat of latex paint if it turned out to be a complete disaster , so what did it matter? Then the quote from Wordsworth entered my mind and I remembered my first exhilarating inspiration upon which I acted as a child, which was to do a large scale mural. I was in the early years of grade school and I saw a Peter Max poster. Somehow seeing that poster caused a flash in my mind that the downstairs bathroom in our house should have GIGANTIC lemons all over it. It didn't occur to me to ask anyone for permission. I got permanent markers, pencils, and acrylic paint. I remember sketching the giant lemons which were physically larger than I was, and flowed around the corners and angles of the bathroom: the bathroom sink became situated inside a giant lemon. I was thrilled to see the giant lemons come to life and to be a small person inside an enclosed room with giant lemons. When my father came home from work I heard him tell my mother, "there are huge lemons all over the downstairs bathroom walls". They both laughed and kept the lemons for years, painting fresh coats of wall paint around them. Whatever that "idea-act on it" artistic sensation I have as an adult was established in childhood. In classrooms and after school programs, I actively look for that sensation in the students. When they suck in their breath and their eyes look excited, I know that they've been visited by a muse.