My Kid Could Paint That

I have discovered a budding new artist, my 14-month-old son Tristan. Quickly surpassing his daycare contemporaries, Tristan is l'enfant terrible of the abstract art world.

While this claim has been made before, only to fall apart when the hand of a parent was discovered to be assisting the child, I can assure you that I've had no part in this work. His genius is his own...

Energy and Projection

Tristan's paintings are a process of exploration. There are no messages or hidden agendas, other than to reveal the discoveries made during his investigations. Perhaps he does take cues from familiar surroundings and perhaps the steamy southern summers, rich patinas of aged surfaces and the mystery of moss-draped wetlands do find their way into his work. But not as images, not obviously and certainly not intentionally.

Luminous Response

Tristan collects ideas, energy and impressions from his personal experiences and surroundings, and then, using his skills and talent, portrays his interpretation on the canvas. The impressions Tristan treasures are as singularly brilliant as his ability to convey them, so the final effect is one of ravishing beauty and luxury, and canvases alive with character.

The Shimmering Context

Tristan explores the relationships among the natural world, the human soul, color, beauty and the unknown, and interprets these ideas through art that is pleasing to the eye and the soul. His artistic repertoire is crafted and conceived with a sense of timing, a delicate but sure hand and nuances of color.

Ephemeral Appendix of Despair

Tristan's nocturnes are tangible demonstrations of his creed of aestheticism, which stresses his desire to orchestrate selected elements from nature into a composition that, like music, exists for its own sake, without regard to moral or didactic issues.

Déjà Vu/Sweet Dreams

Tristan's work is dependent on design fundamentals: form, color, and composition. He believes the most complex emotions can be evoked from the simplest of forms. His style explores the relationship between man-made structures and the natural world. Tristan begins a piece very spontaneously and become more detailed as the composition starts to show itself. The process involves layering. By building and removing endless layers of paint, Tristan gives the work a sense of history and unique, old world charm. The first layers are the most erratic and freeform, similar to automatic writing. He sometimes add other elements like gels, and collage in these early layers.

There are no preliminary sketches or notions of what is going to transpire. As he notices different characters and forms in the middle of the process, he nurtures and allows them to develop almost at their own will. A dialogue is created with the painting, and it starts to show what needs to be done. Determining when a painting is finished is a crucial and difficult step in his process. Tristan always has to see it with fresh eyes after at least a day has passed to decide if it is finished.

Electronic Soother

Am I turning my son’s brain into goo? Will he be a TV-addicted couch potato before he can crawl? If so, he won’t be the only one. A new study says children under two are spending as much time in front of the boob tube as on the boob, with 90 per cent of them watching 1.5 hours of TV daily. Even 40 per cent of three-month olds are regular viewers of the box.

This, I’m told, is a bad thing. Both the Canadian and American Pediatric Societies say children under two shouldn’t be watching any television. Too much TV is linked to learning problems, aggressive behaviour and difficulties paying attention later in life. Damn! But it’s so much fun, so what’s a parent to do?

We aren’t plopping Tristan down in front of the tube, but nor do we keep it off while he is on the room. It’s part of our life and I know it will be part of his. I can already see the fascination it has for him — while sitting in his chair he will squirm around to catch a glimpse of the screen or peer over my shoulder to see what is going on. The sound and motion have a considerable draw for him.

I agree that I shouldn’t be using the TV as an electronic babysitter and nor do I think that there is much value in it for him. But I don’t believe, based on no absolutely no knowledge, that these incidental viewing times will be detrimental. I am a child of TV myself and while I may not be curing diseases I figure I came out ok. A little obsessed with pop culture for sure, but none the worse for wear.

High Fidelity for the High Chair Set

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated
Nothin' to do and nowhere to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated

It could be the mantra for any new parent after hours of trying to calm down a cranky, crying baby who is too tired to fall asleep. So what do we turn to? Kids songs and sweetly soothing lullabies – which get a little hard to take after awhile. Raffi can be fun, but I have two much younger sisters, so this sounds like Round Four of Robin in the Rain for me and some days it’s a bit much.

So what’s a hipster to do? Tristan gets his fill of my music in the car, but am I really going to lull him to sleep with The Ramones’ I Wanna Be Sedated or let him drift off to Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box? The answer appears to be yes. Baby Rock Records has released over a dozen lullaby tributes to bands such as Radiohead, The Cure, Nirvana, The Ramones, Metallica, Coldplay and more. The songs are recorded using glockenspiels, vibraphones, harps and other tinkly-sounding instruments, turning teen angst into baby-friendly melodies.

From Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of Nirvana: “You know it. With the lights out, it’s less dangerous. These lullaby renditions of Nirvana’s best-loved songs turn the volume way down, while turning up the dreaminess of their pop hooks. In many ways, this album echoes the simple pleasures and innocence of infancy and childhood. Childish tra-la-la’s tempered the distortion of Nirvana’s own songs. Chimes, glockenspiels and other gentle instruments temper Nirvana’s wild spirit for your little one. “Smells Like Teen Spirit?” Smells like nap time."

I never knew I’d be soothing my son to sleep to the sounds of Radiohead, but maybe that’s what they had in mind all along…

Please could you stop the noise, I'm trying get some rest
From all the unborn chicken voices in my head
What's that...? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)
What's that...? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)

It's the Final Countdown

It's down to the final day of voting for the Canadian Blog Awards and Popped Culture is in a tight, three-way battle for the title of Best Entertainment Blog, thanks to your votes and proselytizing on my behalf. The award comes with 10,000 acres of beachfront on a remote Pacific Island with a mansion so covered in gold leaf, Donald Trump would be speechless with envy. When I win this coveted award, you will all be given two exclusive weeks to relax there.*

All you need to do is cast your vote today and I will stop writing these increasingly annoying posts. Doesn't he have a newborn, you many ask? A job? A life? All perfectly valid questions, but entirely beside the point. So help me help me.

Tristan is voting for me, won't you?

(* Pledges will not be honoured)

We Are Siamese, If You Please

Walt Disney has a lot to answer for – and I’m not talking about secret Nazi affiliations or cryogenics. Ever since bringing Tristan home from the hospital, one of the most common questions we are asked is how are our cats reacting.

This is not your garden variety, “how are the pets doing?” question either. Why? Because our two kitties are Siamese. Ever since Lady and the Tramp came out in 1955, the relationship between babies and Siamese cats have been tainted. In the film, Si and Am prowl about Lady’s house, wreaking havoc and terrorizing the goldfish. Hearing a newborn they head up the stairs, singing:

Do you hear what I hear?
Ahhhhrr... a baby cry!
Where we finding baby
There are milk nearby!
If we look in baby buggy
There could be
Plenty milk for you,
And also some for me.

I am here to refute this uncalled for slur against the gentle, albeit loud, Siamese. Our boys have been nothing but friendly. Of course our friend’s Siamese is a crazed beast who makes Bucky Cat look like an, um… pussy. I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my kid. But I’m sure it’s just an exception to the rule.

Here is the clip, in Japanese for extra weirdness.

Who Taught You to Live Like That?

When is the right time to expose your child to the Dead Kennedys? Is the Forgotten Rebels’ Surfin’ on Heroin an appropriate lullaby? These are not abstract questions, but something I wondered while driving in the car with the six-day-old Tristan with the iPod on shuffle. He's already been surround by music during his few days on this world. We had the laptop in the delivery room and he came into the world listening to Metric, coincedentally arriving to Combat Baby.

Yesterday he sat in my arms while I was watching Robot Chicken and he seemed vaguely attentive as the Trix rabbit sold coke to the rest of the breakfast cereal mascots in a great parody of Blow. He’s not just getting pop culture moments, but meta references – not that they mean anything to him now. But I figure it will seep in at some point. I knew all The Beatles music when I was in high school, but not because I had listened to it, but because my parents had for years before. So I hope you like Sloan, kiddo.

Is that so bad? I don’t have any desire to hear in what manner the wheels on the bus rotate, or how many humps Alice the Camel (or Fergie for the that matter) has. That isn’t entirely true of course, as I will happily sing to Tristan, but I don’t feel the need to only play that kind of music around him.

So is there pop culture for babies? Is it those songs? Books that you read to them? I suppose I will find out soon. So far it’s just been stealth marketing. To date, Tristan has two outfits with Winnie the Pooh on them and an offer for Winnie the Pooh books that come with a Tigger clock – all from Disney. He also has Clifford the Big Red Dog on a quilt and Sesame Street characters on his Pampers. Who are they indoctrinating, him or me?

You’ve Got Baby

We interrupt this blog to introduce the newest member of the Popped Culture family: Tristan Lyell Barker. He was in such a rush to get into the world, he arrived a full two weeks early.

Weighing in at a respectable six pounds and eight ounces, the little one was surprisingly quiet, considering his parentage. Tristan comes with the full compliment of fingers and toes, as well as all the other standard bits and pieces.

Mom – otherwise known as Gill – is doing very well and resting comfortably. I am wired to the hilt on coffee and nervous energy. We are both are overtired and in a vague state of shock that we are now parents.

In his first 24 hours of life, he’s already been mentioned on a scandalous blog (damn paparazzi!) and begun to be deluged by pop culture. Included in a welcome package dropped off in our hospital room were coupons for books by Dr. Suess (good) and Disney (not so much). At least McDonald’s hasn’t tried to get its claws into my child… yet.

It’s going to be an interesting journey for so many reasons, including all the new entertainment venues I’ll be able to explore. Who says I’m not in touch with youth culture?