Dance of the Inner ChildAcrylic on 8" x 10" canvas, 2009. Available at www.livefunky.etsy.com.
This is just a really fun, playful piece I made about a week or two ago but didn't scan until today. Last night, while talking with my husband, I was referring to someone I admire that's maybe twenty years older than me and said "I mean, she's a grown woman.." in the conversation and Rob started laughing. I didn't get it. He had to repeat it for me. Sometimes I forget, oh yeah! So am I! I know I'm 31 years old but I can certainly feel, let's just say "youthful" a lot of the time. The inner child is alive and thriving. I wonder if I'll ever feel "grown up"? But being a kid at heart comes with a lot of perks like still laughing till you cry with your best friends over stupid jokes or building sand castles at the beach - not just because a child wants you to join them but because the child in you is eager to get in there and play. If I ever get too serious, feel free to poke me and tell me to go outside and play.
3 comments:
This cracked me up! I am 32 and I've never felt more like a kid. Creativity and playfulness go hand in hand. I hope you never lose that feeling!
Last night I was in a room full of folks younger than myself. The setting was a bi-monthly dance hosted by my gallery. At one point my friend (who is 51) turned to me and said: "Why is it that we're the least inhibited dancers here? I said: Because in spirit, we're the youngest ones here."
If one is lighthearted and joyful at 16 or 26 or 36, one will remain so at 56 and 66 and so on and so on...
Jennifer - I'm glad you got a kick out of it, and I hope you never lose that spirit either! I feel like I was pushing my childhood as far away from me as possible in an effort to be "mature" in my 20s but now I am embracing my youth and it feels like more memories, more childhood feelings are coming back to me.
Patrice - Thank you for sharing that story - if I was at that party I'd be working the dance floor with you!
This conversation reminds me of this poem:
When I am an old woman,
I shall wear purple - -
With a red hat which doesn't go,
and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandles,
And say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
and gobble up samples in shops
and press alarm bells
and run with my stick along public railings,
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit!
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at ago,
or only bread and pickles for a week,
and hoard pens and pencils
and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
and pay our rent
and not swear in the street,
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner
and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised
when suddenly I am old,
And start to wear purple!
--Jenny Joseph
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