We are in that transitional phase between summer and fall where the kids haven't gone back to school yet, though Natalia has, and our schedules are a mish-mash of pick-ups, drop-offs, playdates, days off from work, and compromises/deals made with friends so that all three kids can be supervised and accounted for at all times. It's a messy week.
But with all that craziness, I'm still not ready for summer to end. Oh that we could hold onto it for a few more days, a few more hours, even a few more minutes, before returning to the morning routines and shorter days of fall.
But with all that craziness, I'm still not ready for summer to end. Oh that we could hold onto it for a few more days, a few more hours, even a few more minutes, before returning to the morning routines and shorter days of fall.
Happily, today was a day out of the office for me, as both Celia and Lucia needed supervision, and all of the usual caretakers--daycare, camp, playdates, Natalia--were busy or unavailable. This was a fantastic time for me to take a day off. Work has been a miserable grind lately, and with school starting next week, it was a perfect occasion for a daddy-daughter day.
These days are a rarity, so naturally the question of how to spend them takes on much urgency. Last week, I asked Celia what she wanted to do during our day together. Her response: Target (to get a small Lego set to entertain her tomorrow, when she visits EDC for the day), Dunkin Donuts, and to go to an art museum.
Yes, she said art museum, which made my heart fly (though full disclosure: there is a tiny, pebble-sized chance that I may have planted this idea in her head a few weeks ago). That would certainly be a perfect way to spend our time together.
But we had a number of hurdles to clear before we could actually enjoy the museum. The morning consisted of a run to Salvi's (to get Andres' hair cut), a visit to the doctor (for Andres' well-child appointment), and then a trip down to Weeks Field (to drop Andres off at soccer camp). After all that Lucia, Celia, and I were finally free to start our day together, though it was already approaching 10 am, and we had to be back to pick up Andres and crew at 2. A day free from work does not entail complete freedom.
At Target, Celia deliberated in front of the many "girl" (her word)-themed Lego sets available to her. She enjoys their "Friends" line, which offers jungle playgrounds, veterinary clinics, and juice bars (!) set in lovely lavender, pink, and other pastel colored bricks. Oh, and lots of small animals. She eventually settled on a medium-sized recording studio set. Because I'm a softie, I also let her get another tiny collection that featured a puppy. (Hey, it's summer.) Lucia picked out a small train.
Toys in hand we retreated to the car and began our day (or, more truthfully, or few free hours) for real. My original goal had been to take the girls to the Peabody Essex Museum, which I had heard was both really interesting and very kid-friendly, but owing to our extreme time constraints I chose to return to the deCordova, where I had taken Lucia for a fun morning a few years ago. Not only was it much closer than the PEM, but it was also a free admission day. Hard to beat that.
Before taking advantage of the sculpture park--which was packed with families on this perfect day--I took the girls inside to view some of the contemporary art. Would they understand it? Probably not. Would I? Probably not. But maybe it would be a good experience for all of us, and perhaps it would spark some new idea or question or observation in the girls' minds.
And, in fact, Celia did find something that intrigued her--a large sphere, covered in newspaper (papier mache style) surrounded by a spherical, copper cage.
"Daddy how do you think they got that in there?" she asked.
I misinterpreted her question, and thought she was asking for information about how they got the entire piece into the gallery.
"Well they have big doors downstairs--a big loading dock, really--and they bring the art in there, and then they bring it up to the gallery, and if you look around you can see that all of these walls actually move, so that they can create more space for the big pieces if they need to." I was really, really smart.
She looked at me blankly.
"Oh you mean how did the artist get the paper ball inside the cage?" I was really, really dumb,
"Yuh."
"Oh I have no idea. That seems really hard."
Lucia seemed unsure of where she was or what she was supposed to be looking at, so after flubbing my first real art criticism with Celia, I picked up Lucia and walked over to a wall installation of street photographs from New York. They looked like they had been taken in the early 1990s, and they seemed very ordinary. Lucia still had some questions though.
"Daddy what that man doing."
She was pointing at a picture of a man who seemed to be running to a corner store.
"Looks like he's running."
"Why he running?"
"Maybe he has to get something."
"What he have to get?"
"You know, I'm not really sure. Maybe he's hungry and wants some food."
That seemed to satisfy her. Then I noticed that a single multicolored stick appeared in each of the photos. Maybe that was the point of this--a walking stick's tour of New York? At least it gave me something to point out to Lucia.
"Look Lucia, do you see the stick in the picture?"
She found it straightaway. "There the stick!"
"And look, do you see the same stick in this other picture?" It became a game.
"There it is!" She smiled her wide, crazy, face-stretching smile. This was fun. Looking at art was actually fun with kids.
We walked upstairs to another gallery, this one full of paintings and prints, which we regarded with critical eyes. I asked the girls what colors they saw and what they thought the paintings showed. Colors were still a bit of a challenge for Lucia--yellow is her default name for every color--but she did describe one painting as having a fire in it, which I thought was a really accurate description, especially for a 2 year old. Celia and I talked about the artist's decision to combine sand and paint, which gave the paintings a heavy, textured look. She thought that was interesting. I said maybe we could try that at home someday. (I may regret this.) We wandered through the gallery discussing the colorful prints and paintings for 10 minutes, until the girls clearly wanted to go outside, and wouldn't even stay still long enough for me to take a cute picture of them together.
Outside we joined the dozens of other families who were wandering from sculpture to sculpture. It was mainly mothers with kids. There were enough fathers there to prevent me from feeling like a total outsider, but while the mothers chatted away with each other--there was lots of talk about school starting and daycare, and one impassioned conversation about how someone was going to have something (I didn't catch what) delivered the next day--we fathers largely ignored each other and enjoyed a few hours of anonymity. No need to ruin a good day by talking about it.
I explained to the girls that we would be looking at sculptures, which were large pieces of art made out of different types of materials. We stopped and observed (and touched) the first one we saw, Elegantka, which inspired the girls to start a sculpture hunt, taking us through the park and around the museum and, eventually, back to our car. We saw metal leaves, then giant pillars connected with yellow wires. We paused at Little Red Riding Hood and Other Stories long enough for Celia to jump on top of the stone book (?) that formed part of the sculpture.
"What do you think this is?" I said.
"I think it's a magic carpet," she said. (Though she pronounced it "cahw-pit" in her lovely, adorable way that I will miss dearly when she outgrows it.)
"Oh yeah you think so? Why?"
"It just looks like one. I think it's a magic carpet."
That was good enough for me. We kept walking, looking for the next one.
Lucia ran ahead and soon we came upon a large pile of stones, just lying next to the path as if they were awaiting a mason to assemble them into a patio or wall. "Sculpture!" yelled Lucia (though it sounded like "scuptchah!"). She was so happy to have found another one. And here is where the true magic of art revealed itself: none of us could figure out whether this was a sculpture or just a pile of stones. Whatever it was, it was in the shade and a nice place for a rest, so we stopped for a break and took some pictures.
It was now past noon and time for lunch. We dined on peanut butter and nutella sandwiches in a shady spot on the cafe patio. Lucia was excited to find another sculpture up there, too.
After lunch we continued our walk. Lucia preferred the geometric and abstract pieces to the ones that looked like people, and grabbed my leg anytime we saw a face or a statue. Celia, on the other hand, seemed to like all of them, and gently touched and climbed on many that we saw. Our walk felt like a treasure hunt. What would we see across the lawn? What interesting treasures were hidden just out of sight? We ended our walk at Lincoln, the series of giant copper-colored barrels that roll down towards the museum's driveway. The girls went to play in one of the barrels while I lay on the ground, enjoying their independence.
I looked at my phone and, just like that, it was 1:30. Time to head out and pick up Andres at camp. Our daddy-daughter day, so fun but so short, was ending.
It was a sad reminder that summer, too, was receding into fall. Next week brings early mornings, lunches, and homework. Homework! Ugh. I tried to think happier thoughts. And I decided that today, on a day when Celia still hasn't begun kindergarten and Lucia has yet to set foot in preschool, I was perfectly happy to push fall thoughts out of my head and enjoy a day--or at least a few hours--looking at art with my daughters.
Yes, she said art museum, which made my heart fly (though full disclosure: there is a tiny, pebble-sized chance that I may have planted this idea in her head a few weeks ago). That would certainly be a perfect way to spend our time together.
But we had a number of hurdles to clear before we could actually enjoy the museum. The morning consisted of a run to Salvi's (to get Andres' hair cut), a visit to the doctor (for Andres' well-child appointment), and then a trip down to Weeks Field (to drop Andres off at soccer camp). After all that Lucia, Celia, and I were finally free to start our day together, though it was already approaching 10 am, and we had to be back to pick up Andres and crew at 2. A day free from work does not entail complete freedom.
At Target, Celia deliberated in front of the many "girl" (her word)-themed Lego sets available to her. She enjoys their "Friends" line, which offers jungle playgrounds, veterinary clinics, and juice bars (!) set in lovely lavender, pink, and other pastel colored bricks. Oh, and lots of small animals. She eventually settled on a medium-sized recording studio set. Because I'm a softie, I also let her get another tiny collection that featured a puppy. (Hey, it's summer.) Lucia picked out a small train.
Toys in hand we retreated to the car and began our day (or, more truthfully, or few free hours) for real. My original goal had been to take the girls to the Peabody Essex Museum, which I had heard was both really interesting and very kid-friendly, but owing to our extreme time constraints I chose to return to the deCordova, where I had taken Lucia for a fun morning a few years ago. Not only was it much closer than the PEM, but it was also a free admission day. Hard to beat that.
Before taking advantage of the sculpture park--which was packed with families on this perfect day--I took the girls inside to view some of the contemporary art. Would they understand it? Probably not. Would I? Probably not. But maybe it would be a good experience for all of us, and perhaps it would spark some new idea or question or observation in the girls' minds.
And, in fact, Celia did find something that intrigued her--a large sphere, covered in newspaper (papier mache style) surrounded by a spherical, copper cage.
"Daddy how do you think they got that in there?" she asked.
I misinterpreted her question, and thought she was asking for information about how they got the entire piece into the gallery.
"Well they have big doors downstairs--a big loading dock, really--and they bring the art in there, and then they bring it up to the gallery, and if you look around you can see that all of these walls actually move, so that they can create more space for the big pieces if they need to." I was really, really smart.
She looked at me blankly.
"Oh you mean how did the artist get the paper ball inside the cage?" I was really, really dumb,
"Yuh."
"Oh I have no idea. That seems really hard."
Lucia seemed unsure of where she was or what she was supposed to be looking at, so after flubbing my first real art criticism with Celia, I picked up Lucia and walked over to a wall installation of street photographs from New York. They looked like they had been taken in the early 1990s, and they seemed very ordinary. Lucia still had some questions though.
"Daddy what that man doing."
She was pointing at a picture of a man who seemed to be running to a corner store.
"Looks like he's running."
"Why he running?"
"Maybe he has to get something."
"What he have to get?"
"You know, I'm not really sure. Maybe he's hungry and wants some food."
That seemed to satisfy her. Then I noticed that a single multicolored stick appeared in each of the photos. Maybe that was the point of this--a walking stick's tour of New York? At least it gave me something to point out to Lucia.
"Look Lucia, do you see the stick in the picture?"
She found it straightaway. "There the stick!"
"And look, do you see the same stick in this other picture?" It became a game.
"There it is!" She smiled her wide, crazy, face-stretching smile. This was fun. Looking at art was actually fun with kids.
We walked upstairs to another gallery, this one full of paintings and prints, which we regarded with critical eyes. I asked the girls what colors they saw and what they thought the paintings showed. Colors were still a bit of a challenge for Lucia--yellow is her default name for every color--but she did describe one painting as having a fire in it, which I thought was a really accurate description, especially for a 2 year old. Celia and I talked about the artist's decision to combine sand and paint, which gave the paintings a heavy, textured look. She thought that was interesting. I said maybe we could try that at home someday. (I may regret this.) We wandered through the gallery discussing the colorful prints and paintings for 10 minutes, until the girls clearly wanted to go outside, and wouldn't even stay still long enough for me to take a cute picture of them together.
Outside we joined the dozens of other families who were wandering from sculpture to sculpture. It was mainly mothers with kids. There were enough fathers there to prevent me from feeling like a total outsider, but while the mothers chatted away with each other--there was lots of talk about school starting and daycare, and one impassioned conversation about how someone was going to have something (I didn't catch what) delivered the next day--we fathers largely ignored each other and enjoyed a few hours of anonymity. No need to ruin a good day by talking about it.
I explained to the girls that we would be looking at sculptures, which were large pieces of art made out of different types of materials. We stopped and observed (and touched) the first one we saw, Elegantka, which inspired the girls to start a sculpture hunt, taking us through the park and around the museum and, eventually, back to our car. We saw metal leaves, then giant pillars connected with yellow wires. We paused at Little Red Riding Hood and Other Stories long enough for Celia to jump on top of the stone book (?) that formed part of the sculpture.
"What do you think this is?" I said.
"I think it's a magic carpet," she said. (Though she pronounced it "cahw-pit" in her lovely, adorable way that I will miss dearly when she outgrows it.)
"Oh yeah you think so? Why?"
"It just looks like one. I think it's a magic carpet."
That was good enough for me. We kept walking, looking for the next one.
Lucia ran ahead and soon we came upon a large pile of stones, just lying next to the path as if they were awaiting a mason to assemble them into a patio or wall. "Sculpture!" yelled Lucia (though it sounded like "scuptchah!"). She was so happy to have found another one. And here is where the true magic of art revealed itself: none of us could figure out whether this was a sculpture or just a pile of stones. Whatever it was, it was in the shade and a nice place for a rest, so we stopped for a break and took some pictures.
 |
| Art? Or a pile of stones? |
 |
| Lunch! |
It was now past noon and time for lunch. We dined on peanut butter and nutella sandwiches in a shady spot on the cafe patio. Lucia was excited to find another sculpture up there, too.
After lunch we continued our walk. Lucia preferred the geometric and abstract pieces to the ones that looked like people, and grabbed my leg anytime we saw a face or a statue. Celia, on the other hand, seemed to like all of them, and gently touched and climbed on many that we saw. Our walk felt like a treasure hunt. What would we see across the lawn? What interesting treasures were hidden just out of sight? We ended our walk at Lincoln, the series of giant copper-colored barrels that roll down towards the museum's driveway. The girls went to play in one of the barrels while I lay on the ground, enjoying their independence.
 |
| We largely ignored the request to stay off the artwork. |
 |
| Enjoying contemporary art, outside. |
 |
| Selfie, with ladies, in front of Lincoln. |
I looked at my phone and, just like that, it was 1:30. Time to head out and pick up Andres at camp. Our daddy-daughter day, so fun but so short, was ending.
It was a sad reminder that summer, too, was receding into fall. Next week brings early mornings, lunches, and homework. Homework! Ugh. I tried to think happier thoughts. And I decided that today, on a day when Celia still hasn't begun kindergarten and Lucia has yet to set foot in preschool, I was perfectly happy to push fall thoughts out of my head and enjoy a day--or at least a few hours--looking at art with my daughters.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment