2025 Issue #36 🎈

Happy Sunday, Reader!

Greetings from Sheboygan, where we are days away from a sold-out Wondernite and the launch of my first children's book, The Penguin Who Flew! The upcoming Wondernite auction will be filled with unique items. (The one-day auction is open to everyone, but you can also buy a virtual ticket to watch the livestream of my presentation.) Among the items available are two original paintings I did while exhibiting at the Midsummer Art Fair in Sheboygan. (Including this one☝️)

I like painting live for a few reasons. First, and most selfishly, it gives me something to keep me busy during the long days.

Secondly, it attracts people to our booth. I'm one of the only ones at the show doing a live demo, so it really stands out.

Another cool benefit that I didn't see coming is that I become almost invisible. People can be standing nearby, flipping through prints, and forget that I'm there. It's a blessing to hear their enthusiastic, unvarnished comments to one another and the delight they get from my work. (Fortunately, most reactions are all good. If they weren't, I'm sure I'd feel differently!)

But perhaps my favorite thing about live painting is something I started last year, on a whim. When a child comes up and stops to watch me working, I stop painting and ask if they'd like to help, handing them my paintbrush before they can answer.

Now, I know a few secrets. In this environment, I create paintings that are more impressionistic than my usual style. They don't require technical precision, like many of my others. This enables me to get the painting finished in one day while giving me the flexibility to stop and have conversations with passersby. This style also allows for more "diversity" of brushstrokes from my special collaborators. The other thing I know is that acrylic dries fast, so if something goes really wrong, I can easily paint over it later.

To be honest, though, I've now done four of these and have only painted over one errant brushstroke.

And it was left there by a grown-up.

Yes, I do invite an adult to have at it from time to time. Mostly old ladies who I can tell really want to contribute, but often have many years of built-up Adultitis I need to help them clear away first.

Still, it's mostly kids who contribute to these pieces. What I find most fascinating are the reactions from their parents. Many correctly determine that if the artist didn't want his painting "ruined," he wouldn't hand over his paintbrush to a three-year-old. They encourage their children to give it a try and snap photos of the moment.

But it's striking how many of the others tell on themselves, revealing the Adultitis bottled up within. I can sense them clenching up, worrying they'll be responsible for their kid ruining the painting.

"Do it like this..."

"No, don't do it that way..."

"Don't mess it up..."

Then, after their child lays down a single stroke deemed to be satisfactory, they quickly interject, "Ok, that's enough..." trying to shut it down before all hell breaks loose.

I mostly just ignore the grown-ups, preferring instead to focus on the best part: seeing the kid's face after they hand the brush back to me. Their eyes widen, they stand a little straighter, and they exude a sense of awe over having played a part in something so "important."

I'd like to give the parents a little pep talk, but it never seems like the right time. I just hope that the "you did great!" I direct at the child is loud enough to pierce the soul of their parent.

Although they are simple paintings, there's something beautiful about knowing they're created by a complex tapestry of marks made by others. Even the wonky, shaky, less-than-perfect ones.

And so maybe now is the right time to speak to the parent. For in many ways, we are all those parents, whether we have kids or not.

We all have a little voice inside our heads – maybe with origins in real events that happened years ago – that continually tells us, "You're not good enough. You're gonna screw it up. You'll look like a fool."

The truth is this: No, you're not good enough. You will screw things up. And there will be times you'll look like a fool.

But also, that's ok.

It really is ok.

That doesn't make you bad or broken or stupid; it makes you human.

Just like the rest of us.

But the other true thing is this: the only way to grow, the only way to get better, the only way to get the most out of this very short life, is to do it anyway. Say yes to the invitation to participate, to contribute, to experience something new.

It's hard to put a price tag on the feeling that comes from outgrowing our comfort zone and contributing to something bigger than ourselves.

The story we inhabit is bigger than us. It's a masterpiece, in fact.

But it won't be as beautiful without your wonky, shaky, less-than-perfect contribution.

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🤔 I wonder...where in your life right now do you need to let go of perfectionism, sidestep fear, and stretch your comfort zone? Reply to share your thoughts with me, or join the conversation in the Escape Adulthood League!

Stay young and stay fun,

P.S.

Keep an eye out for an email this Friday with a link to the one-day Wondernite auction. It's open to everyone, and it's got some EPIC exclusive goodies you'll want to check out. (We'll be adding even more new things in the days to come!)

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