I know how annoying it is for teenagers to listen to their parents' lectures. I was one of the hard cases after all, 2+ decades ago.

But I do remember being close to my mother through her teaching me how to paint in watercolours. Painting about rickety wooden houses, fences and trees, while at the same time telling me stories about her childhood in the most remote corner of an already remote island, in Bangka.

There's a real bridge made between hearts there, something that made me sit still each time my mother lectured me. Perhaps, simply because I trust her, and known about her not only from words coming from her mouth— but also the drawings she drew and painted.

👇

Pixels, designer, builder · /mek /oldmasters /newmasters · mek.gallery

I think there's a merit in connecting to the younger generations through art and other creations, not only in lectures. Maybe it's a divine instrument that slices the dimensions of time, that's strong enough to lift facades of character from both the old and the young? Who knows. But anecdotally, certainly, it worked for me.

Shaping what difficult words couldn't express, and turning it into a mish mash of two-way expression through lines, embraced.