True North

Little Photographer

Since my last post was about how I worked my camera into the ground, this may be somewhat um... ironic timing, but I've been admiring the photographic work of another, smaller, member of the family lately, and I thought I share some of her work. I hope she doesn't mind. But since I've just put it together that lending a four year-old my camera was the likely cause of its demise, I'm going to post these without asking (she's asleep anyway) and call it even.

I've tried to encourage Stella's creativity by letting her take pictures pretty much whenever she asks, which she's been doing for years now. Now, let's face facts here: she's four. The great majority of her shots are terribly out of focus, even unrecognizable, and she has a penchant for taking pictures of a blank computer screen. Or the floor. But lately some patterns have emerged in her perspective. She takes pictures of her life. She does funny little still lives and portraits of us. She captures things no one else does.

Like pictures of me. Doing ridiculous things. The price you pay for being the family photographer is that there are rarely any pictures taken of you. Now, thanks to Stella, there is a small but growing collection of Mommy pictures. Mommy dancing. Mommy looking surprised. You get the idea. Also, somewhat hilariously, because of our height difference many of these pictures have a really excellent view up my nostrils. Talk about perspective.

Stella's also the only one who consistently takes pictures of our dog, Vega. I love how she got Vega under the bed in this quiet little moment. My nostrils aside, Stella's lower point of view affords her a seeing of things it would never occur to me to see. And because she doesn't think about anyone else looking at the picture besides herself and maybe me, she takes some of the most intimate pictures of our family life. The only reason I have pictures of Maeve nursing is because of Stella. 

I like that she doesn't think about whether something is beautiful before she takes its picture. I'm not even sure she thinks about whether something is interesting. I don't think she thinks about it at all, not in the way I do, anyway. She just takes the picture because she wants to. There's something wonderfully fearless and adventurous about children when it comes to creative endeavors. I can learn a lot from Miss Stella.

Tradition

My mom and I took Stella to the Nutcracker on Sunday. New York City Ballet, at Lincoln Center. The real deal. It was such a delight because Stella was thrilled about the whole thing, from getting dressed up in her fancy dress and new shoes, to sitting in the gold jewel-box of the New York State Theater waiting for it to begin, to the gummy bears at intermission, to the ending when Clara and the prince depart in a flying reindeer-pulled sleigh.

It really is a ballet designed for children; it's flamboyant and kitschy and colorful and, for cryin' out loud, candy features a prominent role. The whole second act is less part of a narrative and more a variety revue, with the music, choreography, and costumes all changing with each new section like some sort of greatest hits collection. The minute your four-year-old mind starts to wander, poof! there's a man in drag on stilts, wearing a hoop skirt big enough to fit eight pirouetting tweens inside. Stella was in heaven.

Sitting in the darkened theater, listening to that gorgeous music that's as familiar as a lullaby, I thought about how one Christmas when I was a teenager I convinced my mom to take me to the Nutcracker after a number of years not having seen it, and how disappointed I had been. Not that there was anything wrong with it of course - I'm pretty sure NYCB doesn't actually fail at anything, they're the best, I would say they're always on point but it'd be a terrible pun - but it was completely missing the luminous magic I remembered pouring off the stage when I was little. I had simply outgrown being excited about a land of candy or a growing-before-your-eyes Christmas tree, but I felt broken. 

Last Sunday, cuddling with Stella over the armrest and hearing her small whispering voice in my ear, "Mommy! Herr Drosselmeyer is up on the clock! What is he doing?" or admiring her straight little back as she perched on the edge of her seat like a horse in the starting gate, repairs were made. I know what a cliche it is to say you see things newly when you see them through the eyes of a child, but I've always taken that to mean you get the opportunity to see the way the child sees, and this was more than that. Being there with Stella allowed me to appreciate the nuances, the artistry, the workmanship of the ballet in a new but distinctly adult way. Creating the right mood of excitement and fun for Stella meant that I had to look beyond the judgements I would, I'm ashamed to say, probably have brought to Nutcracker: that it is, if not actually tacky, at least unhip. And oh, what I would have missed. The Sugarplum Fairy's pas de deux with her Cavalier, for example, was exquisite. It's a big, breathtaking piece of choreograhy, lots of lifts, but like any classical ballet it can look stiff and soulless in the wrong hands. Sarah Mearns danced the part and I thought she was brilliant. She has to be crazy young, she was only just made principal this year, but I was pretty blown away. And the children! The children were amazing! There are far more parts for children in Nutcracker than in an average ballet; it's another reason it is such a fun show for kids in the audience. Again, I'm sure given that it's NYCB that the children are always fantastic, culled from the School of American Ballet as they are, but I'm not sure how much I would have appreciated them without Stella's good influence. Being there with my excited, starry-eyed little girl just increased my enjoyment so much, I was able to really sink in and watch, and see. At the end of the day, Stella told me, "Today was the happiest day I ever had in my entire life." And I had to agree, it was definitely on my own top ten.

{1983}

 

{2008}

So here's to renewed traditions. May it be the first (again) of many. And may I remember, when my own little ones are teenagers and they get it into their heads to go see Nutcracker at Christmas for old time's sake, to tell them to wait until they have little ones of their own.

Illustrated

One of my favorite sources of beauty in our everyday home life is all the art in Stella's room, tucked away in the pages of her books. There are so many exquisitely illustrated books for children. A few that I have been particularly loving lately:

Cinderella: An Art Deco Love Story. Love the interiors and clothes!

The Twelve Dancing Princesses, by Rachel Isadora. There are a number of beautiful versions of this old fairy tale, but I like this one for its African setting and exuberant colors. Isadora does great things with that Eric Carle-esque painted paper collage technique.

And then there's I Can Fly, the old classic by Ruth Krauss, illustrated by Mary Blair. I didn't know this book until I was a mother, but I think I love it even more than the little ones in my house, and that's all due to the illustrations. If Mary Blair were still alive, she'd totally have her own Etsy shop. Look how freaking cute these pages are.

 

 

I'm a mubble in a pubble! Adorable.

Mermaids

My Stella-bella is four. Four! It seems amazingly old. Weren't we all really impressed just like two days ago that she could wave bye-bye? And now she is literally starting sentences with, "Accordingly, Mommy..." I can't keep up.

So we threw her a party, as you may already know. A mermaid party. Not specifically an Ariel party, though she does love that movie; it was more a tropical-themed pool party, with a decidedly fishy feeling. The kids swam and played, and after a while I put out drinks and food and they had at it. The beauty of the pool party is that I didn't have to plan any activities, which is the kind of thing I dread. The pool was the activity, leaving me ample energy to spend on more important things, like cutting cheese sandwiches into undersea shapes. Seriously.

I wish I had a picture of those sandwiches, or of any of the other food at the party (pineapple, banana, strawberry fruit salad; tuna sandwiches on croissants which you can kind of see up there; pink lemonade and fizzy water decorated with little drink umbrellas - how I got away with handing out glorified toothpicks to a bunch of preschoolers I have no idea but they were a big hit). But no, somehow the only picture I have is of the goldfish crackers that we poured directly from the bag into the bowl. I was a little preoccupied and not, shall we say, in a blogging frame of mind. Oh well. But it was a great party, and despite cursing my way through the fish-shaped sandwiches the night before, I was glad in the end for the extra magic those details lent.

And the cake! The cake is NOT my handiwork, but that of my uber-talented pastry chef friend, Ali Lee. She did the cake (french vanilla and strawberry on the inside, divine), and gorgeous sugar cookies shaped like shells and fish, and a jello fish bowl complete with tiny candy fish "swimming" around inside. What? You don't all have a pastry chef friend? I know, it is amazing luck. The whole time I wasn't marveling at Stella being four, I was gaping at that cake.

The Party Part 2: Goody Bags, tomorrow. Check back in!

For a Small Friend

Already this blog is getting to me. In a good way. We went to a birthday party yesterday for a little one who was turning four, and we loved the present we gave her: a bag of art supplies. A fancy bag of art supplies, I should say. Why have I never thought of this before?

We started with a plain, canvas tote bag. I got out the fabric paints and, on one side, Stella went nuts:

I would totally tell you what brand of paints we used, but I forgot to check before and now I have a sleeping baby on my lap. Oh well, you'll see them again. We paint a lot of fabric.

On the other side, I painted the kiddo's name and did some fun little circles, which will look very familiar in just a moment. Then I sewed a trim across the top. Stella picked it out at Michael's. (I want to love and support my local art store, and often I do, but with littles in tow I can't risk going somewhere, not finding what I need, then having to go somewhere else. And Michael's just has everything. It is freaking huge.) Sewing the trim was not the most fun part of this particular endeavor, as canvas is tough to get a needle through, and I was sewing by hand. Plus, I seem to have lost my thimble, a little black leather one that I love. Leather. Black leather.  It's one badass thimble. Maybe it's in the closet with all the collage stuff?

Sewing the trim by hand made me wish for a machine more than ever. When I was 11, my dad and stepmom left the city and bought a house in the suburbs. A house with modern appliances, unlike our apartment in the city. I have a distinct memory of my dad, elbow-deep in a sink of dirty dishes in the weeks leading up to the move, moaning, "I want my dishwasher..." That's how I felt sewing this trim. I really, really want my dishwasher.

But it looked great when it was finally on, all the little circles in a row, echoing the circles painted below. Stella was particularly pleased, and deemed it Really Fancy, which is high praise indeed.

We filled it with:
little pots of acrylics
two canvases, and a special canvas-hanging hook
a bunch of new brushes, tied up with ribbon
a palette
these really great colored pencils
the coolest coloring book ever

This is the coloring book:

We got it at Michael's too, though I can't find it anywhere on their website. It is really beautiful, so much more interesting than Dora or princesses.

And inspiring to boot. Recognize these circles?

I might have to go back and get myself one. I never grew out of coloring. It's so relaxing. I have an Art Nouveau coloring book that I love, though I have to guard it against Stella's gooey fingers and wild, unkempt technique. Basically I can only use it at night after she's gone to bed, and alongside a cup of tea and a gigantic chocolate brownie, it is a fine way to unwind. Surreptitious, after-hours coloring, that's how we roll around here.

Point is, I was thrilled with the outcome of this gift. It was a creative activity for me and Stella AND will hopefully encourage further creativity in the birthday girl. Told you this blog was getting to me.