First thoughts. I remember Tricia Knoll. Tough lady, smart lady, organized lady. I even remember my visit. Eye-opening and I wasn’t even looking. From October 24, 1990. – JDW
Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. – Pablo Picasso
There’s a cliche which, like many, holds much meaning: A child’s play is a child’s work. In other words, play is his or her job.
Nowhere more obvious than at the Children’s Museum (3037 S.W. Second Ave.), where the phrase that pays is Learning And Playing Go Hand In Hand.
Half of what you know you discover before you’re six. Strange, but likely.
I wandered into the clay shop. An artist was off in one corner deeply immersed in his craft.
“Mind if I ask what that is you’re making?,” I inquired.
“Nope.”
He didn’t mind.
Without looking up, Benjamin, age two, says “I’m making me some pizza.”
I watched him pound the gray lump flat and then shape it into a circle.
“What kind of topping?”
“Strawberry!”
Then he started to comb it.
Torii Long explained why the museum places such an emphasis on clay. “It’s a different way of communicating a thought. Many children express themselves more easily. And they try things they wouldn’t normally attempt.”
And let’s face facts, kids don’t exactly run their own lives. “Clay gives children something they can control… it gives them power. They can leave their mark on something.”
Everything about the Children’s Museum offers a hands-on educational experience that’s so much fun the little nippers don’t even realize how much they’re learning.
The Grocery Store exhibit is a good example. “I’ve taught eighteen-month-olds how to scan bar codes,” one staffer exclaimed.
An actual cash register, tiny carts, a scale, produce aprons and simulated groceries give small folks a chance to fantasize about being grown-up and spending huge amounts of money every couple of weeks.
Witness this exchange:
“Kristen, what do you want to do now?”
“Daddy, you shop and I’ll pay.”
Which reminds me. This is not The Mother and Father Museum.
“One of the most frequent questions we get from parents,” offers Tricia Knoll, “is ‘Where do we start? Which exhibit should we do first?”‘ Well, by the time we can get out the answer, the kids are alreay headed where they want to. Let the children decide.”
They’ll probably want to visit the “What’s It Made Of?” exhibit where they can find out what’s inside of a teddy bear, or how paper and cement are made, or which materials bounce the highest and stretch the most.
The staff has had more than a couple of headaches over the demonstration which involves the hammers and the pounding.
“What’s Lunch Made of?” will be the question of that day on Thursday, October 25. Kids up through age five will get to construct their own sandwiches and spend some time with Sgt. Dill, a six-foot pickle. Festivities begin at 11 a.m. and regular admission prices will be in effect. Mondays are free for families, by the way. And for a mere $35, your complete household can enjoy unlimited visits for an entire year. Such a deal.
Free! was the entry fee for the Oregon Art Museum on a recent Sunday, a day for kids to share with the works of George Segal. The guy covers real people with white plaster, then calls it art after he peels the stuff off them.
“Don’t try to figure it out,” a mother advised her daughter. “Just feel it.”
This show, however, highlights his cubist reliefs, which were inspired by the paintings of Picasso and Georges Braque. (I’m almost certain Georges is just one guy.)
At three large tables, some four dozen children worked on collages. An example, perhaps modeled after Segal’s efforts, were posted at each table. Call them targets, something for the kids to shoot at.
Many missed the mark… mostly to the right. Others ignored all attempts at direction. (You know who you are.)
Crayons and scissors and Mr. Sketch scented instant watercolor sticks.
Coloring and cutting and pasting and squirting adhesive out of big bottles. Apparently, child artists need a lot of Elmer’s Glue to do their best work.
Kids don’t seem to talk much when they create, especially while cutting. That’s some serious business. Humming seems to help and scrunching up your face – stick out your tongue for increased accuracy – appears fundamental to the process.
Wallpaper remnants are the medium of the day. And one can’t help but wonder if that’s smart. Do we really want to teach children to paint on this stuff?
I imagine – like my editor – you’d like me to get to the point.
It’s this.
Norma Louise finally came and took the television set and I’m reduced to life without the Seahawks.
No cable. Cold turkey. I am now reading books and listening to music and going to museums.
If I can make the transition, so can our children.
Epilogue. I have five grandchildren.
And I have many, many crayons. Thinking about getting some clay.
To be honest, my idea of a children’s museum would be something like…
and here is the sixteen-year-old who got along with her mother.
Over here, this child actually did stay out of the liquor cabinet.