‘My Kid Could Paint That’ . . . or could she?
This phrase - uttered by countless parents with regard to the seeming racket of modern, abstract, impressionist art - is actually explored in this documentary of Marla Olmstead - a controversial child prodigy in the world of the abstract.
If a child truly can paint it, is it high art? Is this child’s success proof that the genre is a pretentious fluke? Or is Marla truly a genius?
Of course, answering these questions wouldn’t be relevant or interesting, so the film doesn’t directly explore them. Instead, it focuses on the controversy of whether or not Marla - who was four when her popularity climaxed - actually produced the work. While this angle makes for a better story on film, it makes no headway with regard to the idea that highbrow finger painting might actually be a scam. And that’s precisely the point.
While the story of a child prodigy is always of interest, as is the social study of the public’s fickle reactions to something as simple as a child’s love of making a mess on canvas, the real story lies beneath the relatively shallow analysis of the work. Is it art? In the context of this story, who cares, really? More important is a simple fact . . . Marla is a kid who paints, has little concept or concern for the ramifications of the popularity of her work, and who cares little if people like it or not, because producing it simply makes her happy.
Go see this film. Not for the controversy. Not for the culture, not for answers to questions of authenticity, not for social commentary, and not for the potential insight into an est-filled wonderland of muses and faeries. See this film to enjoy the purity at the heart of a child, and to be reminded what sentiment should reside beneath any individual’s motivation for expression if it is to be deemed worthy of humankind.
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