Rainbow Karate Man

Even more mâché mess arounds, kiddos, and dino plants

Julian’s Rainbow Karate Man piñata

Does it feel as if summer is melting away like a soft scoop on a hot day and we’re all standing, sticky handed, with one last wave-leaping wish in our hearts?

It’s not over yet! (I whisper to myself, making no move to unpeel from the couch as trashy Spanish-language TV washes over me in place of seawater. “It’s educational” I mutter, dutifully repeating “¡No mames güey!”¹ as one of our bosom-heaving heroines flings herself into the arms of forbidden love)

Noah’s planning sketch for his man-sized banana piñata

Most of the summer was a wild blur of youth art camps and kids aikido classes and I feel like I’m still catching my breath. We made piñatas, animal masks, poetry comics, graphic novels and lots of throws, pins, and joint locks.

Pictured from left to right Unicorn, Otter, Tall Wolf, French Otter, Princess Cat, Frog with Fly, and Boba Dog. Not pictured: Boba Cat, Horror Rabbit, Backwards Bunny, and “The Figure”

The two 7-year old otter boys pictured above (bare-headed and beret-ed) arrived as strangers but, upon discovering their shared lutrinae passion, became fast friends. When they learned that sea otters clasp paws when they sleep to avoid drifting apart, the boys spent the whole lunch recess running around the playground hand-in-hand. It was exactly as cute as it sounds (even though they’d decided to be river otters so, really someone should have put a stop to it).

Bryn’s Ice Cream Fox

Some things I’ve been thinking about lately:

• How teaching little kids requires a certain focus on skill-building and discipline (don’t hit him, here’s how you hold a paintbrush, spin to your right—no your other right) but the freedom and creativity is in full flow: ask for a comic about a bug and you will receive 20 pages on Dung Beetle Dave by end of day.

• How, when teaching older kids (around 12 and up), there are suddenly so many internal obstacles. Ask for a comic about a bug and you will receive: “I don’t know how to draw a bug!” “Can I use my phone for reference?” “How many pages does it have to be?” “I’m terrible at comics” *stares blankly into the bug-shaped abyss*.

• How, with so many projects, the hard part is the fun part (much as I may bemoan it in the moment) and once the problems are solved my attention wanders—does this explain my dozens of makings abandoned in the final stroll to the finish line?

• How do we recover that gung-ho joy of creation without expectation? How do we remember to delight in the effort rather than the product (but then still produce a finished thing)?

• How magnolias look like prehistoric dino plants all fleshy petals and freaky alien seed pods. I will miss nose-guzzling their summer blossoms (they smell fatty and delicate, like olive oil and sweet citrus)

• All the wonderful textures:

What is that bottom left little buddy? I could look it up but it was so magical when Graham and Wendy came up with the end of that Pasternak poem a couple posts back that I must relive the delight.

I had no idea that the bottom right plant is a nasturtium (until I reverse google image searched it). “Nasturtium” is one of those things I’ve read countless times but never actually knew what it meant (like “clapboard” or “gable” or “dormer”—clearly I have some architectural research to conduct). What a treat to have such a toothsome word matched to such a bold bloomer.

Hope you’re all blooming boldly my friends!

Lara

What are you thinking about? I’m always happy to hear from you if you want to reply to this e-mail or drop a comment on the post. Until next time!

1. a semi-rude Mexican slang expression that roughly translates to something like “No way, dude” or “Don’t f- with me, bro”