Elementary Inspiration

When I was a little girl in elementary school, third, maybe fourth or fifth grade, we had art class once every week or two, but then on the off-week we had “Art Appreciation.” Our art teacher would come to our primary classroom instead of us going to the art room, and she would teach us about art.

You could hear her coming because she had a wheeled, two-ring poster hanging rack that she’d attach a couple or few laminated prints of famous paintings by very famous artists. She’d teach us about the artist, their particular painting she had hanging there, and why it was good. The lesson was only five or ten minutes and off she went.

Mostly we were thrilled to not be having a math lesson, or English, or any other subject that would generate a test or homework. We were so happy to have a mindless break from the boring repetition of the usual brain strain that we happily, if not absent-mindedly, relished the short but well-received opportunity to not pay attention to an adult trying to cram one more thing into our tired little heads. But then one day it happened. She wheeled in with a painting that touched me deeply. I don’t know why, but it did. I don’t remember what she said, what was taught, what was expected of us to remember. But I remember that painting.

The most beautiful, simple, amazing painting. I remembered it from that day forward. “A Girl With a Watering Can,” by Auguste Renoir. I’ll never be the same.

Somewhere along the line I acquired a note card with the print on the front. I have carefully maintained ownership of that note card for what is probably more than four decades. When I come across it on rare occasion as I pack, or clean out, or re-arrange my belongings, I hear the wheels on that old metal framed art display coming down the open-air corridors of the elementary wing at Florida High. I dutifully and lovingly pack it safely away again, as I’m quite certain I’ll have it forever.

Now, there are plenty of other paintings I absolutely adore, love, and could stare at for hours. Some that I even think are aesthetically more beautiful. But there will never be another “Girl.” The first. The deepest. The one I most cherish.

I saw it today in Washington, DC, at our National Gallery of Art. Even did the modern, silly thing of taking a selfie with it. It is as stunning as ever. I have seen it before in my life, but just as before, and every time I see it, it grabbed me, excited me, thrilled me, reminded me of all the emotions I have attached to it. Made me smile.

So, to which ever teacher it was (could have been Mrs. Johnson, could’ve been Mrs. Inman, as somewhere on my elementary timeline there was a changing of the guard. And that was a darn long time ago) I just want you to know I appreciate the “Art Appreciation” ten minute lessons you gave us. Your efforts were not lost. Even if it was just for me to fall in love with that one painting, your efforts were worth it. Because now, now when I travel to far off and near places, I have an appreciation for the lovely art I see. Thank you.