when i was 3 my mother gave me a small piece of cardboard with a square cut out of the middle. i spent hours moving around my world placing this cardboard on surfaces - the couch, the lawn...- and marvelling at different colours, textures. i was framing my world as an artist does - to bring it more into focus and make it manageable to reinterpret. my 2 year old granddaughter lucy sees like an artist. her world is one of colour and she describes everything in terms of colour (including nuances). her new house that is a nondescript pale greenish-yellow she describes as "a tiny bit yellow house". lying on her parent's bed she said "your room is very white". it is. lucy delights herself, entertains herself, consoles herself with drawing and painting. the other day when her father wouldn't let het use more glue on her sopping collage, she ran to her mother. "are you a sad girl?" her mother asked. "no" she responded "i'm a sad painter".
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