Simple lines


My sister loves to sketch. In fact, she sketches whenever she can. She always has a sketchbook about her person, and a satchel that holds sketching essentials.

No wonder then that her son, my adorable three-year old nephew, wants to sketch too. So, on most evenings, my sister and my nephew try their hand at sketching.

It is fun to watch the concentration on my nephew’s face as he tries to capture the theme.

Last week, when the duo sat down to sketch, it was decided that the day’s theme would be a giraffe.

With furrowed brows and deep concentration, both of them got down to work.

In just a few minutes, my nephew was ready with his giraffe and ran to show his mother. 

He then asked her, “Mom, what’s taking you so long?  It is only a giraffe. See my drawing.”

And this is what he drew, a three year old’s sketch of a giraffe. So beautiful and simple, capturing the essence of the giraffe.

image

When my sister sent me the sketch, I was amazed.

The sketch got me thinking –  a child lives life simply, observes simple things and expresses himself without any effort.

As we grow, our view of the world gets complicated and we get so caught-up in it that we lose our view of simplicity.

Of bookmarks and growing up


I love bookmarks as much as I love books. I have a whole collection of different bookmarks, from different parts of the world.

One of my favourites is from the Van Gogh Museum in The Netherlands.  I bought it from the Museum’s souvenier shop. It is a magnetic bookmark, based on Van Gogh’s painting of red poppies.

The bookmark has frayed over the years, from over use, and from one evening of soaking in heavy rain.

I chanced upon it today and a funny incident came to mind.

We were at the Van Gogh Museum, soaking up the art. My son was four then and loved to sketch and colour all the time (he still does).

image

        Courtesy – http://www.pinterest.com

He asked me about the paintings. I told him a bit about Van Gogh and about the paintings, and why we were there.

And then it started, a loud bawling. To my utter amazement, it was my son. Shaking his whole body and crying.

We rushed him out and looked for injuries or bruises. Nothing!

After he had calmed down a little bit, we asked him what had happened, and if he was hurting.

The remnants of big sobs shook his little frame, as he said, “Why are my drawings not in this Museum?”

We laughed our hearts out and gathered him for a hug.

I told my son about this incident. He had a good laugh, and I just realized how time flies and how quickly my baby has grown.