Decordova

I took Clay Classes at Decordova (est 1930) as a child; I still stare at a mask I made that stares back at me.  And I have a glazed version of my family living room, circa 1983.

I went back there on Free First Wednesday with my best friend from childhood, Julie, and her 3 kids (!)  They are 7, 4 and 2.  Very intelligent and curious.  Eager to seek out the labels for each sculpture and wanting to identify the materials of the ones inside.  It was exciting to see them so excited and it was so easy to immediately let the years of being out of touch slip away. Children demand your attention so fully in the moment that past regrets no longer weigh you down.  The elephant in the room is no match for the screaming 2 year old who demands your attention.

I have no memory of fully exploring the grounds as a kid, only a vague sense that one day there were crowds of kids whose parents were artistic and hippie-like and who lived an existence I knew nothing about.  I remember being scared/thrilled by art I didn't understand.  And I was pulled away, we didn't have time or maybe my parents weren't interested.  They were different from who we were somehow.