A is for Art

The Js recently went to an art show showcasing the works of local students. Most of the pieces were done by girls, prompting the Js to ponder the question of whether the visual arts were becoming a chick thing. Jury's still out. All of the work was amazing. Truly. Had it been on sale, the Js would have bought several, assuming they could afford it. Probably they couldn't. It was that good. 

Inspired, the Js brought art to their livingroom. A few birthday parties ago, they'd been given a roll of plastic, the kind that's meant to serve as a make-shift tablecloth for messy eaters. They rolled it from one end of their livingroom to the other, taping it here and there to make sure it stayed put. Then they invited E to take off his clothes. This was done gradually, with each item getting a good colourful splatter before it was shed. J squeezed finger-paint from convenient plastic bottles onto the plastic and E began to work his way from one end to the other, smearing, squirming, sliding and slipping. Superb fun. Check it out:

 

Of course, after all that, the bath was the only option. But the finger-paints came too and the art continued up the walls of the bath, around the lining of the tub, and always, everywhere, on E's little body canvas. So inspiring was the change brought about by all this playful art, that J decided she needed to recreate herself. A spontaneous trip to the salon saw her step out with a completely new look. What did J say? Wow. And E? You look like Aunty Linda. J chose to consider them both compliments.

But it couldn't last. The curls came back within a few days. Maybe it was because J wasn't willing to spend 2 1/2 hours on her hair every morning. Maybe it was because she doesn't own a straightener. Or maybe, just maybe, she actually really likes her hair in its natural, untamed state. You decide.