On the way to the organics-recycling-site-dog-park-oil-change-car-wash-grocery-store yesterday, I caught sight of a couple of little girls sitting behind a table in their driveway, with a sign taped to the front of their table. I try to support local businesses when I can, especially when they’re operated by 8 year olds peddling lemonade. After dumping my bag of food waste, I made a quick pit stop for a refreshing beverage before resuming my to-do list.
As I walked up up the driveway, I saw no telltale pitcher or stack of Dixie cups on the tabletop. I heard one of the little girls whisper, “Aubrey, get over here! Someone’s coming!” Suddenly, I was a bit confused. Maybe they were just playing in the driveway, and here I am, the StrangerDanger weirdo invading their space. The feeling seeped away quickly as I read the sign taped to the front of the table:. “PICTURES $2 each,” hand-written in markers, a different color for every letter.
I broke into a wild smile. “Aw, no way! You’re selling artwork?” I asked.
“Yep!” they replied in chorus.
“That you made?”
“Yep! I mean, I drew some and Aisley drew some,” the one who must be Aubrey said, pointing to her friend. She handed me a small stack of pictures. “Here, you can look at them if you want.” I took the small portfolio from her and slowly paged through the collection, a lovely array of flowers, rainbows and colorful tangly lines, each one signed by the artist. A sketch of a sunflower caught my eye, reminding me of my mom. Hearts floating in sunshine over a sea of blue spoke to my own heart. “I’ll take these two, please,” I said, handing them a five, “keep the extra dollar.” It was their turn to break into a wide smile. “Cool! Thanks!” they said, again in chorus.
When I got home, I found two frames for the drawings, and added them to the growing wall of art in my living room. I wished I could show the girls that their artistic hearts hang on my wall. I wished I had asked them a few more questions about their art. I hoped they knew just how much their creative efforts matter in the world.
Today, before heading out to the dog park, on a whim, I snapped photos of my newly procured artwork and drove past the girls’ house. To my heart’s delight, they were sitting outside again. In just a day, their operation had grown, from a single table to a larger table with bigger signs, two eye-catching umbrellas and an easel covered in drawings. I pulled over and ran up to the girls, my phone in hand.
“Hey there! I don’t know if you remember me from yesterday, but I just wanted to show you what I did with your pictures—I framed them and hung the up in my living room!” I turned my phone so they could see their framed photos hanging with other pieces I’ve collected over the years. “Wow, really? Do you see that, Aisley? She hung up our pictures!” I swear I could feel the heat radiating from their big grins.
I asked whose idea was it to have an art stand. Aubrey said it was hers, but they both love to draw and thought it would be fun to try to sell some of their drawings. They talked a little bit about their favorite subjects, and showed me some new work they’d added to the portfolio, and their latest idea, a “color your own picture” feature—a display of pencil-drawn lady bugs, portraits and other designs that customers can purchase to color themselves. I shook my head in wonder. “Well, that’s about the most creative thing I’ve ever heard of,” I said. “Thank you so much for sharing your artwork with the world! Please, never stop drawing or sharing!”
As I walked to my car, I know that our paths crossed at this time in my life is no mistake. A seemingly unimportant interaction that I needed exactly right now. As I walked away, I thought about what kind of world we could have, if we encouraged and nourished all artists (i.e. each of us) at tender young ages—hell, at ANY age—to help develop the confidence and courage that Aubrey and Aisley have, so we could put ourselves and our art out onto the pavement, without fear, for the whole world to see. To know, wholeheartedly, unequivocally, that our creative gifts matter, deeply, and that the world not only wants, but desperately needs our art…xo
