Friday, 18 Jan 2019

What, did not everyone's father light a fire near their faces?

Theresa Vargas local columnist who had previously written for the local business team about poverty, race and people with disabilities. At each earache, my brothers and sisters and I knew what to expect. Take out a newspaper and a lighter. My father rolled part of the newspaper in a cone. Then, as we tilted our heads to the side, grimacing with less pain than thinking about what could go wrong, he placed the pointed end of this cone in the distressed ear. And then we heard that – the click of the lighter. To this day, I can not tell you if the heat has healed our earaches or if we have healed ourselves out of pure will, as the flames slowly slid into this journal towards our face. But I know for sure: my father did it with the best intentions in the world and with the conviction that it would work, because it is the number of Mexican American parents who have cured earaches. I also know this: now that I'm a parent, there's no way I'm going to light anything near my kids' heads (sorry dad, but that tradition will not be perpetuated). Ah, parenting – a universal test that comes in all languages. It's a way of describing it. A better way is traced on a red arch at the American Visionary Art Museum.
"Piano Family: Adagio, Amorosa, Bucky" by Allen Christian is composed from piano parts. (Dan Meyers / American Museum of Art Visionaries) "The role of parent, he says, is the scariest you have to live."[[[[A dying fish, a beloved dog and a parenting lesson, somehow]I am not an art critic. I know just enough to say "What a great octopus" when my 4 year old draws the image of a circle with eight strings coming out of it. But when I heard about the Baltimore-based museum's new exhibition, titled "Parent Education: An Art Without a Manual," the concept immediately intrigued me. Very often, people have the impression that their own childhood is unique because of its absurdity and dysfunction. And, although there are certainly people who have failed more than supported by their parents, even the most fit of us have been bred by people who fumbled at times and who shone at d & # 39; others. We all have someone to blame for our mistakes and we owe our strengths. "Most of us are children of Homer and Marge Simpson, products of other imperfect human beings who nevertheless managed to give us real glimpses of a beautiful unconditional love," Rebecca Alban Hoffberger, director of the museum and main curator of the exhibition, written in a description of the collection.
El Otro Lado by Francisco Loza is made from yarn pressed on wood. The collection showcases the works of 36 artists and addresses themes such as refugee families, children with disabilities and grandparents who raise their grandchildren. There are heart-wrenching works that deal with the loss and hilarious pieces that capture the parents' shared fears. On a wall lined with panels describing anonymous confessions of the project "PostSecret", one of them shows a picture of a young man sitting at the back of a car, grabbing the top of the window and screaming. This confession is written on both sides of the panel: "I am terrified, I could accidentally open the window of the car ON THE FINGERS OF MY CHILD!". Hoffberger said she did not believe another exposure had already been done on parenting. What struck her while doing the research and collecting the works of art, she said, is the universality of the subject. "You have to remember that even Charles Manson had a son," she said. "Being a good parent, or a good parent, has very little to do with a person's finances, intellect, or formal education. It is a very democratic art. You could have gone to Harvard, smelled good, looked good, played good tennis and yet was the most rotten parent who ever walked on the earth. "[[[[
Parental shame in the back-to-back alley – and hope for back to school

Among the works, there are many who approach this type of parenting. A piece by artist Bobby Adams, who was raised in Baltimore, presents life-size models with black-and-white photos for faces. In the scene that he created with them, his mother, a teacher who committed suicide, sits at the end of a couch, smiling and reading a book to her child. At the other end, his father sits with one arm raised and the other holding a leather belt. A different room, a sculpture representing a mother, a father and a child, entirely composed of piano keys, pivots under a large banner. In this photo, Michael Levine quotes: "Having children does not make you a parent, but having a piano makes you a pianist." emotional reactions of the visitors. "This is the only press report where two of the journalists started to cry," she said. If you happen to visit, no matter if one or more of the works appeals to you, you will probably be unable to browse the entire exhibition without thinking about your own childhood. One of the pieces has a giant tie under the words "Big Daddy". She is surrounded by quotes that capture girls' perspectives. Each contains only six words. "He wanted sons. M & # 39; had instead, "reads one. "Dad had lipstick on his collar," reads another. "Telling hilarious stories of hairy dogs. It's funny, "reads another one. I stood there and thought what mine would say. I considered my father's incredible talent for everything electronic. I've thought about his various tastes in music and how he has conveyed Otis Redding's love to me. I remembered his affinity for Hamburger Helper cooking. I settled in, "My ears feel good. Really dad.

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