I had been looking forward to this evening for some time now. Each year at this time, the art gallery hosts an exhibit of art work created by local middle and high school students, and this is the third year that my daughter has had a piece on display. The first time was a painting of Captain America. The second time was a sketch of my great-grandmother. This time, she was torn between two pieces: a mandala or a sketch she did of me doing a squat. She wouldn’t tell me which piece she finally submitted. She would only say that she had written an artist’s statement for each one, and she wouldn’t even tell me what those were.
I had to wait until we got to the art gallery’s opening reception tonight to discover which piece of art was on display, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was her sketch of me. While I have seen a photograph of the sketch, tonight was the first time that I have actually seen the sketch in real life. Abby did the sketch for my birthday back in January, but, as it was also an assignment for her art class, she was unable to bring it home for me to see it. The sketch is amazing, and I don’t say that just because I am the artist’s mother!
It was the artist’s statement that did me in though. I started to read and did not get very far before tears stung my eyes and I had to turn and walk a few steps away. Once I got those volatile emotions back under control, I returned to the statement and continued reading. Those pesky tears struck again! My husband told me not to cry…he just doesn’t understand. My daughter wrote those words; they came from inside of her head and her heart. Words about me, her mother!
I am proud of my daughter. The fact that she is proud of me makes me so incredibly happy.