The Adventures of Harry and Grace (H.S.)

Starry Starry Night

"Let your brush glide across the canvas, allowing your hand to lead the path." Miss Michelle instructs the class filled with art students and their parents. Grace has been enrolled in an art class at the Mini Picassos studio for sometime and this week her instructor invited parents to take the class alongside their child.

This week the class was studying Vincent van Gogh, using watercolors to create a picture from nature inspired by his beautiful paintings. Harry decided to tag along while you stayed home with Ethan who is just a couple months old and not ready to learn how to paint quite yet.

"Grace, what color should I use next?" Harry asks, the paint brush sitting softly in his hand as he looks down at his palette that is full of a bunch of different colors.

"Miss Michelle says use da color dat speaks to yeh, daddy. What one is talking to yer heart?" Grace sticks her tongue out of her mouth as she dips her brush into her water. Blotting the brush against her tissue to get the extra water expelled from her brush, Grace places the bristles on the azure, creating a beautiful blue color.

Lifting her paintbrush, Grace pulls it softly across her canvas just as her teacher instructed earlier. Dipping her brush again, picking up the pigment, Grace colors the area with the azure.

"M' thinkin' pink." Harry looks down at his pallet, realizing there is only red; pink is not an option. Turning down his lip, he looks towards Grace who is peacefully painting her masterpiece. "I 'ave a problem. Don't 'ave pink, Bug." Harry knows how to make pink; it's his favorite color, but including Grace in this process makes his heart smile. How would Grace make pink?

"Gotta make pink, Daddy." Grace is very matter of fact like she is stating the obvious. If you don't have a color, you have to create the color. "I show you?" Grace asks.

"Yes please." Harry says. Grace places her brush down with such elegance it makes Harry chuckle. She takes this art business seriously, and it makes his heart smile. Grace hops down from her stool and pads across the tile to her father's station.

"More water means lighter color." Grace says, grabbing the brush from Harry's hand and placing it in the water. "We don't blot, Daddy. Dat makes water go out of da brush." Grace pulls the brush out of the water, her eyes watch a teardrop fall from the end and into the cup, creating a beautiful "Pink is like red. So we try that." Grace places it on the Red Light block, picking up a small amount of color onto her brush. She moves the brush back and forth to dilute the color with the water. "Now paint." Grace passes the brush back over to her father, and he takes the brush into his hand, painting the petal of the flower he is creating.

"Thanks, Gracie." Harry says with a smile, moving the brush against the canvas again. Dipping it into the pigment and swirling it around before trying it on his canvas.

"It looks pretty, Daddy. Good job." Grace sits back on her stool, adjusting her easel slightly. Picking up her brush, she dips it into the water and blots it against her tissue before using her blue again.

The classical music playing in the background helps Grace and Harry get into the flow of painting, creating beautiful pictures on their canvases.

"Oh Grace, what a beautiful garden. Your strokes are extremely smooth. I can feel the emotion you are trying to portray. Keep up the good work." Miss Michelle comments on Grace's painting.

"Thank you Miss Michelle." Grace says softly, returning to her painting while smiling softly with pride.

"Harry, is this a flower?" Miss Michelle asks; her hand rubs her chin as she looks closely at the painting.

"Yes...." Harry is slightly worried that she had to ask what it was. He was thinking it was pretty obvious, but apparently not.

"Try moving your brush slower across the canvas, and not as rough. Smooth strokes will create a more cohesive look." She critiques, moving on to the next painting, not giving Harry anything more.

His shoulders slump slightly as he looks at his painting and his daughter's. The concept is slightly different. While he is painting a large pink flower, Grace has created a garden full of flowers and a butterfly. The difference is visible as anyone can see that Grace has created a garden, and his looks like a big pink blob with the beginnings of a green stem.

"Daddy alright?" Grace asks, looking over at her father after he lets out a pretty big sigh.

"Yea, I don't think I'm doin' very well." He looks at Grace's and back at his own. Everything seems to always come very naturally to him, but this painting business is not as easy as he thought. The brush seems to speak to Grace, and her hand is guided by the colors.

"I think yer flower is be-u-ti-ful, Daddy." Grace's eyes are sincere when she looks at his painting. "I love it."

"I think yer just sayin that cause 'm yer dad." He says softly. Grace doesn't hear his comment as she is engrossed in her project. The grass at the bottom of the canvas has her full attention; she bites her lip, concentrating hard as she creates grasslike strokes against the painting.

Harry pouts as he attempts to make his picture look more like a flower. Adding more color. Stepping back, taking the picture in from different views. Biting his lip hard in thought. Nothing seems to be working. Maybe he needs more lessons? How is his daughter better than him at something? This can't be possible. He is surprised. Grace was able to get Poppy to listen to her over him during training, but art? That's his thing.

Class has come to an end, and Grace helps Harry clean up his station. Hanging up his apron and cleaning his brushes, Harry is feeling defeated as they walk out of the art class with their paintings in hand.

"Like it, Daddy? Have fun?" Grace asks as she grabs his hand on the way to the Range Rover.

"I had fun with yeh. Don't think paintin' is for me." He lets out a small sigh, sad that he tried something and it just didn't work out.

"Gotta keep tryin daddy." Grace says. "Dat what Miss Michelle says. Don't give up."

"She is a smart lady." Harry thinks about what his daughter just taught him. Keep trying. Don't give up. If he gave up on music the first time he wrote a bad song, would he be where he is today? Probably not. "Thanks for letting me come today, Bug."

"Thanks. Dis is for you. Made it with my heart." Grace hands her painting over to her daddy. A beautiful garden. Harry looks at the picture, realizing we all have to start somewhere we have to plant seeds and give them what they need to grow. Today, Grace planted the seed of painting, and lessons will help him to grow.

"I love this picture Grace." Harry says, looking at the canvas in his hands. "And I love you butterfly much, and so much more."

"Like the butterfly in the picture." Grace points towards the butterfly she painted.

"Yes, just like the beautiful butterfly in the picture." Harry kisses her head as he opens the car door so they can jump in the car and go home. "Gonna hang it in my studio." Harry says out loud as he thinks this painting will be a beautiful reminder of growth and what his daughter has to teach him in this life.