I find myself gazing at a piece of art Scotch-taped to my daughter’s bedroom door. For this creation, Ellie has chosen her favorite medium: fruit-scented, colorful markers. She’s just 6 years old. A vibrant rainbow arches into the shape of a wave, while a stout tree adorned with bulbous leaves resembling oversized fruits reclines in its crooked stance. The tree seems either to be trying to use the rainbow like a vibrant scarf or is on the verge of being overwhelmed by its own substantial size.
This rainbow possesses a weightiness that makes it appear solid and malleable, almost like clay. Oddly enough, the color orange dominates the scene, overshadowing the other hues—purple, blue, green, yellow, and red. (Best to avoid mentioning indigo or violet; it just complicates things and gets Ellie riled up.) The orange is tapered at the ends but swells dramatically in the middle, resulting in lines that burst forth like rays of sunshine rather than the delicate curves one might expect. Clearly, orange is making a bold statement, tired of conforming to traditional color schemes. It seems to declare its independence, demanding to escape the confines of the page, exclaiming, “Let me out! And where’s the pot of gold?!”
I dub this phase of Ellie’s artistic journey her post-impressionist period. Like any developing artist, she goes through various stages. As a toddler, her initial forays into painting reflected a penchant for abstract expressionism, embracing minimalism. Once her grip on a marker improved, her subjects evolved into stick figures. Yet, what makes these early creations quintessentially Ellie are their defining traits: most are girls, all featuring oversized heads, lengthy lashes, and hair resembling buoyant, spiraled balloons confined to one side of their blissful faces, often adorned with a bow.
Over time, her female figures expanded to include a variety of animals, particularly mice. I could compile a coffee table book filled with pages upon pages of her stick mice, characterized by round bodies, arms raised in surrender, and a straight line for a mouth, which leaves them all wearing a similar somber expression (the girl mice appear slightly happier due to their long lashes and cheerful bows). Her older brother, Jake, has become a discerning critic.
“Ellie!” he chimes in. “Boys have lashes too, you know.”
But Ellie remains unfazed.
She has branched out further: two friends grasping hands, always in pairs; expressive families shaped like hearts; mermaids with hands as large as baseball mitts; and cats peeking out from vividly colored houses beneath giant flowers that float like clouds. There was even a brief but memorable bunny phase. However, these weren’t the adorable, cuddly rabbits one might expect—Ellie’s bunnies are distinctly unusual: with bulging eyes, square foreheads, and thin, craning necks, their ears jutting at odd angles and arms resembling those of a scarecrow. I can only speculate that her dislike for carrots played a subconscious role.
As with any artist, external influences shape Ellie’s work—her first-grade experience has introduced her to the world of words. She has begun experimenting with what I refer to as word-art. She starts by creating a busy collage of sketches, then meticulously labels each element: cloud, bird, tree, bush, road, Eiffel Tower. The result resembles a whimsical Roald Dahl map.
I watch her at the kitchen table, her blonde head bent in concentration, her chapped lips moistening as she chooses each fragrant color from a plastic container that once held artichoke dip. She creates with a refreshing lack of self-consciousness, her vision unfiltered, unconfined by societal norms or expectations.
I know there will come a day when Ellie won’t wear her skort as a tank top because “people just don’t do that.” She might hesitate when Jake points out that blue eyeshadow on her lips seems odd or that flowers don’t come in those colors. Eventually, she may learn to draw “normal” bunnies and reconsider her multi-layered outfits. She will likely have to accept that indigo and violet do have their rightful places in the rainbow. The journey of an artist can be challenging, and she may need to be rediscovered, much like a phoenix rising from the ashes, with the perspective of a poet.
Two buoyant white clouds hover above Ellie’s rainbow-wave, one large and one small. At first, they remained untouched, a perfect balance of color and simplicity. However, after a week, Ellie decided that smiley faces were necessary (with lashes, of course, as these clouds are girls). This illustrates that, like any true artist, Ellie sometimes struggles with the concept of knowing when to stop. Bright blue strokes swirl around her cheerful clouds like a gust of wind, filling every inch of white space with sky, leaving nothing to the imagination yet somehow everything.
In conclusion, Ellie’s artistic journey is a vibrant exploration of color, form, and expression, reflecting her unique worldview. Her creativity blooms without constraints, capturing the innocence and wonder of childhood. As she continues to create, I look forward to seeing how her art evolves.
For more insights into the journey of parenthood and home insemination, check out our other posts, such as this one on couples navigating their fertility journey. Additionally, for more expert advice, visit CCRM IVF’s blog or learn more about anovulatory cycles from specialists in the field.