At the Art Show

by aengelson | May 15th, 2010

Kid astronauts!

On a lighter note, after that grim philosophical post yesterday: Matilda showed us her school art show at System’s Little House in Hanoi. And it was fantastic! Among the attractions was a cool Space Room filled with astronaut figures, a diorama of the planets and stars, a collection of Martian clay figures, and a soundtrack of a countdown and blastoff.

Elsewhere, there were plenty of other drawings, paintings, and activities. And Matilda really got into the fundraiser: selling cookies to raise money for the Moon Bear Rescue Centre in Tam Dao. She sold a lot of cookies, and got a big bear hug from her teacher for all her hard work. Nice job!

Matilda's "camouflage" portrait

Also on display was a fantastic series of “camouflage” portraits the kids did by painting their faces, having photos taken, and then then adding colors and found object to the photos to make a collage. As a completely unbiased art critic, I can say with authority that they were incredible! Way to go, junior artists! (Click on either photo to view a Flickr gallery of photos from the art show).

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About This Site

Andy Engelson is a writer and editor who lives in Hanoi, Vietnam. He's currently working on a historical novel set in the Northwest United States during World War II. He's also a freelance writer, essayist and member of the Hanoi Writer's Collective. In a former life, he edited Washington Trails magazine for six years and before that was freelance journalist. He likes to hike, travel, and play with his family.

Quotable

I have seen it over and over, the same sea, the same,
slightly, indifferently swinging above the stones,
icily free above the stones,
above the stones and then the world.
If you should dip your hand in,
your wrist would ache immediately,
your bones would begin to ache and your hand would burn
as if the water were a transmutation of fire
that feeds on stones and burns with a dark gray flame.
If you tasted it, it would first taste bitter,
then briny, then surely burn your tongue.
It is like what we imagine knowledge to be:
dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free,
drawn from the cold hard mouth
of the world, derived from the rocky breasts
forever, flowing and drawn, and since
our knowledge is historical, flowing, and flown.
— Elizabeth Bishop, “At the Fishhouses”

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