A puppet theater. That was the vision our middle daughter went forth with (actually, out back with in this case.) It started as a group project, suggested by her older brother. Her little sister and a couple of neighbor kids were around as well when the idea was hatched. I'm not sure how focussed the vision was at first, or how long it remained a group project. Minutes apparently. Later, when cleanup was suggested, none of the others took ownership. When I came upon the project in it's final stages, the other children had long left the effort and the yard. They were in the living room playing Wii with flesh colored hands. But this daughter, she was still embracing the vision. The vision was also embracing her, and the outdoor storage box that she was creating upon. My wife frowned from the doorway when she saw me taking a photo of the artist at work. Why was I documenting a mess?
Our family vitally requires my wifes practicality. For example, she thought of having our little Jackson Pollock remove her shoes before encountering the living room carpet. I would have thought of that too, and thought of it again and again as I was futilely scrubbing foam carpet cleaner into the newly tie-dyed berber.
Creation is messy, be it puppet theaters or the cosmos. Sometimes the painter spills. Sometimes the spillage is the thing. Even for a moment. Considering myself, I sometimes wonder if God created me on his canvas, or on his dropcloth. Thank God we were all keepers.
If you would like to get "virtually" in touch with your own inner-mess maker, try your own take on Jackson Pollock creativity at Enter JacksonPollock.org .
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