My youngest son and I went to another exhibition today – an artist’s open house, part of the Brighton Arts festival. It was a very exciting day for me, as I got to meet an acclaimed watercolourist named Ilana Richardson whose work I have been collecting (albeit in poster form) since I was a young art student, living in London. Her paintings are set in sunnier climes- often the Mediterranean- and the depiction of light, shadow and colour is superb. You can feel the warmth of the sunshine and imagine you are there, in some sleepy Greek or Italian hilltop village, overlooking the sea. What made the occasion extra special, though, is that I got to see things through my son’s eyes. He even chose a postcard of one of her paintings of Venice and the first thing he did when we got home was to find a frame for it and proudly display it in his room.
Sometimes, when you become immersed in the day to day business of raising children you forget the true rewards – the fact that as they grow older you can share ideas and interests, the wonderful knowledge that you have helped to shape their characters and show them some of the world that’s important to you.
We struck up a conversation whilst we were there, with the wife of a ceramic artist. She was telling us how, as a child, she had always been fascinated by fashion. Her parents, although in that industry themselves, had insisted that she get a “proper” degree and she let that ambition go. We joked about how it was always the parents who got the blame and she laughingly told my son that after the age of 30 he would no longer be able to blame me for any of his mistakes or shortcomings, but that he could also take full credit for all his achievements. I think she may have a point. Do you agree?
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