I always make interesting discoveries when I go home for the holidays. Whether it’s my sister’s old matchbook collection, a diary containing unnecessarily detailed accounts of my first sexual experiences, or, once, $180 almost entirely in pennies, the contents of my parents’ house never disappoint. This holiday season, I revisited my grade school art projects. Seeing these projects brought back an array of poignant memories (it’s all fun and games until someone’s pinch pot explodes in the kiln). The works themselves range from telling to bizarre, but most of all they made me wonder how adults keep it together when presented with their children’s “masterpieces.” I’ll recap the highlights…
First up is a pair of creatures–apparently my brother and I were given the same assignment. I actually remember this one; we were supposed to make gargoyles. His is thumb-sized, bat-shaped, and painted a dull, dark grey. Mine is the size and shape of a baked potato and most closely resembles a hippopotamus with wings. I painted it metallic silver and carved a bunch of hearts into its back. Looking at my little brother’s puny, gloomy gargoyle next to my glittering monstrosity, I am a little disturbed. Are we the gargoyles? In real life, did I suck up all the resources and attention while my brother withered away next to me?
Moving along the shelf, I redeem myself for the silver potato with a kindergarten classic: the pinch pot. For some reason, I made mine into a snail wearing a baseball cap. Next to the snail, there’s a stamp of my initials. I molded the clay handle in the shape of a bald troll astride a surfboard. If I ever get a job for next year, it could be a classy addition to my desk.
The next project was supposed to be a realistic figure sculpture. I wanted to do a single disembodied foot landing with a splash in a stream, which I thought would look quietly meaningful and not at all cliched. My teacher didn’t think it would be “enough of a challenge,” so the final product includes some kind of dancing spirit, another troll (this time with hair), a mushroom, and four other little creatures that look like hershey kisses with eyes and feet. The whole crew is worshipping the disembodied foot.
Although most of the art projects in the house are mine, the crown jewel of the collection is actually my brother’s (See? He got his moment to shine). It’s a bust of our dad. It conspicuously lacks the godlike cheekbones of your typical bust, though its bulging eyeballs were painstakingly painted a delicate baby blue:
Between the outfit and features, I’ve never seen my dad look more like a vampire/priest/character out of a Roald Dahl story. But hey, at least he’s not the fat gargoyle.