Not Enough Time – these days this seems to be my mantra. So when I finally got to the art museum for my assignment it came as no big surprise that the museum had already closed. I decided to take a look at the little gallery within the Performing Arts Center, since that was still open. I knew I was supposed to write about photographs, and maybe I could find some in there. Of course, this exhibit did not include one photograph. It was a show of children’s art. I glanced over most of it quickly, but nothing looked particularly interesting.

Then, half way down the wall, I stopped. One drawing pulled me in. It reminded me of the way I had loved to draw throughout my childhood. Big free chalk lines swirled across black construction paper with no set goal. Where the lines intersected, a wild variety of colors filled the patches. I remember how our art teacher in Saint Gall, Switzerland, would give us the same type of paper and ask us to close our eyes. He would turn on music and ask us to move the chalk freely on the paper while listening. Then we would take other colors to fill in the patches we had made. And this exact same creation was staring back at me from the wall.

I had to sit down and take it in. There was so much. Rectangles filled with pink and yellow. A swirl that looked like a snail house, filled in with little circles, stripes and squiggly lines. In some of the areas the chalk was spread out with fingers so rigid lines dissolved into soft clouds. I could still feel the chalk sticking to my fingers from my own pieces. Line after line created a new little patch that was filled in with bright colors, each one very different from its neighbor. Letting my eyes follow the pattern, patch after patch, I could feel the joy well up inside of me that had lured me back over and over to produce hundreds of these pieces. There were no rules, just complete abandon and discovery.

Strangely the picture reminded me of Guernica – Picasso’s large wall piece about the obliteration of a small Spanish village by the Germans in 1937. His picture is painted in black, white and grays and evokes utter sadness. The large horizontal size and the cubist lines were similar. This piece, however, was oozing with joy. I just wanted to sit in front of it, look at the patches and remember the bliss I felt drawing with my chalks.

Finally I got up to read the tag: “Banner, created in Vico Morcote, Switzerland, by children grades 5-8.” Vico Morcote is only 3 hours away from where I grew up. I was stunned. How was this possible? I rushed around the room to look at the tags. Children from Phoenix had done all the other pieces. The Banner, however, had been created as a cooperative piece between US and Swiss students for an international exhibit called “Architecture and Children.”

I left and the stress of the day had fallen away. I still reveled in the memories. Not having enough time had – for once – worked to my advantage.