Good Art

We were at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art the other day. It features his work as well as special exhibits, has a library, a great little gift shop and an art room.

There’s also a family admission, which we appreciated, and free parking, which seems to be a novelty in the New England area. (“Admission is free but we will require indentured servitude for 5 years to pay for parking”). The point is to run a museum and develop an appreciation for the art form that is picture book art and storytelling. I’ll happily chip in for that cause especially when fees are reasonable.

We spent a great deal of time examining the work and learning about Carle’s background. It’s all amazing and inspiring and our kids loved it (yes, we really went for us and just took the boys, who liked it, as well).

After looking at everything we went to the art studio, a room established for children (and parents) to make art in similar style to Eric Carle. Paper is provided as well as scissors, markers, pencils and other items. You receive a blank construction paper booklet when you arrive and set out making your own stories.

All four of us sat in a row. Noah and I worked together while Elijah and Kristi did their own books. It was a blast.

Then we looked up and noticed a group of people talking at the door. Off to the side was an older man with a grey beard. He kept his hands behind his back while wearing a long coat, a hat, and a smile. It was Eric Carle and he was looking at us. The artist standing in the shadow watching others enjoy what he created. He was loving every moment of it.

After a double take I said a half-choked “h…hey” and waved. He waved back. Kristi and I restrained ourselves from, well, passing out or running after him (I’m not sure which). A moment later he turned and went on his way.

How often we have looked at and admired art (paintings, films, music) and longed to tell the creator what it continues to mean to us. We find connection in these things and we naturally want them to know. God does this all the time. He stands at the door with his hands behind his back, gently rocking from heel to toe, happiest when his children are at play in the world he gave them.

Little pieces of God - that’s what good art gives.