The beauty of being dirty

There is something very special

when you first unfurl your fresh piece of thick black paper and take out the brightly coloured chalk pastels from their wooden box home and begin to draw.

It’s not like any other medium for me.

It is sensory. Tactile play.

My hands are covered in muddy colours, and usually the side of my face as well; my mind can go where it pleases and when it works, amazing things happen.

And that’s where these guys come from. The place within me that feels awkward, and overwhelmed, and a little shocked at how I end up in those bizarre situations in the first place.

But yet, beyond the startled eyes, is childlike wonder.

A being so full of love, and hope and adventure and wanting so much to understand everything.; while also, not wanting to understand anything at all and just let it all be whatever it wants to be.

These little pastely guys are a perfect example of the juxtaposition that dwells within so many of our beings, every day; in places we rarely show. So we keep them hidden in an effort to feel secure, be liked, keep everything safe.

This little guy is called “Fish Boy".”

Sometimes heads fall off.

Sometimes you don’t know how to stick them back on but you’re trying.

And that’s what counts.

I don’t really have a title for this one. I think she is probably me, wearing her socks on her head because she knows that if she doesn’t, one of them will end up getting lost somewhere. I made this when I started to like my quirks and so she’s finally made them her friend :)

• I wonder what kind of adults we would be, what kind of world we would have, if every adult could play like children. If instead of lunch break it would be play time. In the lunch room there would be bright walls, bean bags, party pies, fairy bread, a giant easel in the corner with paintbrushes too big for our tiny hands and crazy coloured pots full of finger paint. We’d be given extra time for lunch to just use our imagination or create a picture for show and tell after lunch.

• I wonder, what kind of people would run the world? What different things would we value? What kind of parents would our children have?

We think that once we are grown, we are the teachers but to me, we still have so much to learn about how to play and live fully in our space. How to hold our hands up and ask for cuddles. How to see our quirks, and like them, each and every one. They are all mixed up in a wonderland of emotional vibrancy. I don’t think anyone needs to give us a reason or a time of day to express that child within, that playful, messy, wonderous, adventurous child.

They dance around the mundane, waiting for their front and centre place in your world.

Just waiting for you to get your hands dirty :)