Swiss Family Robinson

I want to live in a tree. Don't know exactly why I chose to teach line control, opposites, and gluing techniques to my preschool students with a project about treehouses. I suspect it was one of those Memory Lane moments. A treehouse is a magical opportunity for quiet, space, solitude, relaxation, imagination, simplification, and observation. I need those opportunities in my life, and I suspect most artists do.
An 8-year-old's treehouse has mosquito netting and bean bag chairs:

This preschooler made a very sturdy old tree with a squirrel running up the trunk:

I spent two wonderful childhood summers reading about archaeological excavations, writing letters to pen pals, and embroidering pillowcases with lazy daisies, French knots, and chain stitch. Artists need times and spaces when the fresh breeze can really blow around in their heads without meeting people or demands on their time.

Artists need to watch lines of ants travel a tree branch. They need to invent fabulous contraptions for their treehouses, or just move with the tree as it sways in the wind. Artists need to climb up high to look out over their whole neighborhood from a different viewpoint. They need to communicate with the rest of the world in unusual ways, maybe sending notes down to ground level in a bucket, or flashing coded messages with a mirror. Artists need to soar above the ground on a tire swing at sunset when the insects are droning, but before the mosquitoes really start biting.
Climb up the stairs or enjoy the tire swing:

Look for the housekeeper, the six detectives, and the eight construction workers in this picture by a kindergarten student:


Artists need sun-warmed, shade-dappled places to dream. Every child has an artist within. Please allow some treehouse time in your child's week.