14 years ago, she was lying in a pile of leaves with me.
Now, she's a junior in high school, taking a humanities class. It's an interdisciplinary class, on what it means to be human, team-taught and stretching across literature, philosophy, visual arts, film, and music. I mean, I kind of wish I were taking it:
1300 HUMANITIES I (Fall Semester)
Focuses on themes of Self, Creativity, Freedom, Love, and Death. Readings, art, and music span different cultures and range from the classic to the contemporary (texts may include Plato, Aristotle, Buddhist philosophy, Sartre, Sigmund Freud, Derrida, Oliver Sacks, Tolstoy, Kafka, various poets, Alice Walker, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Giacometti, Lucian Freud, Wim Wenders, various artists, Mozart).
For class last week, she had to bring in a family photo, and she picked this one. And then this is what she said about it:
The photo reminds me of the two Madonna and Child paintings that we looked at in class. The first was very formal, the second much more informal but still older, mine seems like the modern reincarnation where all formal “rules” between mother and child are broken.
She slays me, my girl.
