I watched both of you in envy. Playing with my grandson--he of the earnest laughter--you were consistently creative in using simple things at hand to create new games. Empty tissue boxes, flashlights, bottles and scoops, anything one might find in a closet or drawer, on a counter or in the trash, was pressed into service to further the fun. Silly, magical, or manic, the games caused those little feet to stamp, those hands to grasp or give, that face to glow.
It seemed effortless. Each activity grew out of the one before, with a tweak or a new item pulled in from nearby making the game different. Of course, the child was part of the process too, indeed the point, his enthusiasm and mistakes, all expressed vividly in his expressions and actions, what made these play opportunities alive.
You, brother in law, with your boxes and games of hide and seek and quick transitions. You, wife, with your flashlights and dark rooms and progressive developments. I heard the chortling and knew you were at work.
When I think of my capabilities I stand abashed. What they came up with wouldn't have occurred to me. My games are dull, or seem so. At least, I don't see the stuff around me with 'Hmmm, this could be useful' light-bulbs turned on. And it's not just 'Eureka' but the effortless incorporation of resources or transitions to new modes. Oh, I wish I could.
Creativity astounds me. Looking at an artist, say, over a lifetime, we see work after work representing a new take on pretty much familiar material, with an occasional jump-shift to a fresh approach which invites interested exploration. Technique, form, subject, content each can be modified, making the game of integration exciting. It never fails to amaze and delight me that Beethoven is ever himself and ever interesting and he just one of many. At the artists open studios which rotate through the neighborhoods and towns I regularly see things that make me say 'Why could I not have thought of that?
Yet, there are times when I've surprised myself with what I've done or what solution I've come up with. Sometimes the insight comes after I've already started: 'Oh, this can go somewhere.' Sometimes everything comes together up so neatly that I'm rather proud.
But not often enough! And you two seem to have an easy facility that makes me feel dull. I rack my brains. What would I do with what you have found to hand? Nothing but banalities come to mind. Maybe I need more coffee. Maybe more practice of my associative capabilities. Maybe my creative muscles are flabby.
Whatever the reason and the response I love to watch you two at work. The boy is enthralled and so am I. Whatever else there is about you, I must give you this, and recognize that it's very good.
It seemed effortless. Each activity grew out of the one before, with a tweak or a new item pulled in from nearby making the game different. Of course, the child was part of the process too, indeed the point, his enthusiasm and mistakes, all expressed vividly in his expressions and actions, what made these play opportunities alive.
You, brother in law, with your boxes and games of hide and seek and quick transitions. You, wife, with your flashlights and dark rooms and progressive developments. I heard the chortling and knew you were at work.
When I think of my capabilities I stand abashed. What they came up with wouldn't have occurred to me. My games are dull, or seem so. At least, I don't see the stuff around me with 'Hmmm, this could be useful' light-bulbs turned on. And it's not just 'Eureka' but the effortless incorporation of resources or transitions to new modes. Oh, I wish I could.
Creativity astounds me. Looking at an artist, say, over a lifetime, we see work after work representing a new take on pretty much familiar material, with an occasional jump-shift to a fresh approach which invites interested exploration. Technique, form, subject, content each can be modified, making the game of integration exciting. It never fails to amaze and delight me that Beethoven is ever himself and ever interesting and he just one of many. At the artists open studios which rotate through the neighborhoods and towns I regularly see things that make me say 'Why could I not have thought of that?
Yet, there are times when I've surprised myself with what I've done or what solution I've come up with. Sometimes the insight comes after I've already started: 'Oh, this can go somewhere.' Sometimes everything comes together up so neatly that I'm rather proud.
But not often enough! And you two seem to have an easy facility that makes me feel dull. I rack my brains. What would I do with what you have found to hand? Nothing but banalities come to mind. Maybe I need more coffee. Maybe more practice of my associative capabilities. Maybe my creative muscles are flabby.
Whatever the reason and the response I love to watch you two at work. The boy is enthralled and so am I. Whatever else there is about you, I must give you this, and recognize that it's very good.
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