“You never make any art for me,” my son says.
“A.,” I reply, “yes, I have. You have a picture on your bulletin board over your bed.”
“Let me go see,” he says. He runs to his room. He runs back.
“Not in a frame,” he says. “You never make me art in a frame.”
“Oh,” I say.
I never asked my mother to make art for me–not that I remember. She gave me one painting. For my 21st birthday, one month before she died, she gave me a painting. She’d started the painting for her ex-boyfriend. By the time it was finished, she changed her mind about giving it to him and she gave it to me instead.
Who in your real life appreciates your work? Who would want a gift of something you make? Have you given them any such thing?