As a painter, I like to think I have something in common with Picasso, mainly because we both had blue periods, mine coming several years ago when I used that color to paint the bathroom.
But I pale (my beige period, when I did the soffits in the kitchen) compared to my granddaughters Chloe and Lilly, who not only deserve to have a brush with fame, but whose talent is on full display in a watercolor show at my house, proving to critics and connoisseurs alike that home is where the art is.
I may not know a Manet from a Monet, except that their paintings cost a lot of Money, but I know what I like, which is why I have established Zezima's Two Rules of Modern Art.
Rule No. 1: If you see an artwork that's titled something like "Spring Butterfly," but it looks more like the grille of a '57 Chevy, don't buy it.
Rule No. 2: If an artist has been working on a piece for months and when it's finally finished he calls it "Untitled," it means even he doesn't know what it is. Don't buy that one, either.
But there's no mistaking what Chloe, 7, and Lilly, who will soon turn 4, have accomplished in their brief but brilliant careers.
The gallery at the Zezimanse, where the girls' paintings hang (or, rather, are taped to the family room wall), is their latest exhibit.
I witnessed the creation of these masterpieces when the girls had a sleepover and asked if they could paint.
I sat them in their usual spots at the kitchen table, spread out some newspapers (including copies of my columns, which have never been confused with art), got them their brushes and paint, plopped down a stack of white printer paper, filled two small plastic cups with water, and watched as the magic happened.
Chloe went to work on a rainbow. The bold yet delicate strokes were reminiscent of van Gogh, who definitely had an eye for beauty but not, unfortunately, an ear for it.