Thursday, June 4, 2009

Trash milk cup

I am still not sure how I feel about this.

The above is H's creation after insisting on bringing some "beautiful things", Some "found objects", some "mixed media", home from the park.

On our way home H was getting more and more excited telling me how she was going to make a cup with her treasures. I recognized the process- the swelling inspiration, the need to make it happen. The mom in me was saying "Please throw it away. Its trash." The artist in me was rationalizing... "yeah, but... at least its not totally gross trash.. like bandaids... "

My first year in art school, I had a teacher who lectured the class and said he didn't want to hear that we didn't have money to create art when "there are dumpsters full of great stuff out there." She'll be ahead of the curve. If H were in art school, she could say her cup was a commentary on our wasteful society. How 'now with side pockets and longer length' refers to our insatiable greed. She'd get an A.

I feel frustrated at not being able to create. I get it. I argued that she could make the cup, but not drink out of it. Because its a trash cup. "BUT ITS A MILK CUP!" H yelled/wailed.

Oh ok, fine. Art prevailed. The cup was made. It was used. Functional art.

I did dismantle the cup after H went to bed, however. I found it put away, unwashed, with the rest of the girls dishes. It was all about the creating, the cup wasn't missed and has never been mentioned again.

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