Be That Kid with the Pencil

At some point in our lives, usually in childhood, we are convinced that if our attempts at something do not conform to the parameters of conventional wisdom, then that attempt is not good enough. Daniel Pink had a wonderful (and heartbreaking) example in his book “A Whole New Brain.” He cited a study that posed a simple question to classrooms of students: who here is an artist? The study crossed age groups, starting in Kindergarten and ending in early high school.

The gist of it goes something like this: in Kindergarten, every child raised their hand when asked if they were artists; when they asked high school students, in general, nobody raised their hands. If they did, they tended to see themselves as outcasts, as non-normative. Art was transformed from a daily activity in which everyone eagerly participated to one in which only a select few participated and were looked at differently for doing so.

So…what the HELL happens to us? Who decides what is and is not art? Who reserves the right to judge? I don’t recall anybody with a freakin’ Ph. D. teaching me…well…ANYTHING when I was in high school. OK…fine: Dr. Bohuzlov. But, apart from her, I don’t know who qualified. Yet, here we all are, adults who dutifully conform to society’s norms, and not one of us willing to pick up a pencil and draw!

Or do we? Do we dare? How about a paint brush? Anyone pick one of those up? Maybe some modeling clay? Does anyone spin a potter’s wheel? Paper mache. Or plaster. Yes, there is a little Van Gogh in all of us…maybe Pollock…or Renoir. Or maybe there’s just a little kid who likes to doodle inside every Senior Manager out there. I’ve seen you, doodling in your notebook during a meeting. It helps you relax, concentrate. Your right brain is distracted while your left brain analyzes what’s being said. Or maybe you just like it. Maybe it makes you feel good.

Like when you were six.

It’s OK. That kid inside you, the one with the pencil…she’s just dying to get some daylight. Give her some sunshine. Let her draw until her little fingers get numb. Or maybe she wants to paint. Buy some Crayola modeling clay for her. She loves that stuff. Or Moon Sand. For Pete’s sake, just chew up a wad of gum and let her sculpt something…anything…!

She is good enough. YOU are good enough. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It may not be the most sought-after painting in the gallery, but it’s better than the one left locked inside your head. And if you have a child or know a child…tell them. Tell THEM that THEY are good enough. Never, ever tell them otherwise. Let them decide for themselves.

Go on, be that kid with the pencil again.