My middle child, Magdalen, turned three this month. We decided to throw her a nice, big birthday party, the theme of which was: “Tyger, Tyger, burning bright…”

You might remember these words from the first line of the famous William Blake poem. Here’s the original which Blake illustrated and printed in his self-published, “Songs of Experience.”

Tyger Tyger, burning bright, 

In the forests of the night; 

What immortal hand or eye, 

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies. 

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat.

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp.

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears 

And water’d heaven with their tears:

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

I started reading poetry to my daughters as soon as they were old enough to listen to it for a few minutes at a time. And of course, there are copious nursery rhymes. I do consider nursery rhymes as poetry too, but I put them in a slightly different category than poetry written as such, especially when it was written for adults, though there is some crossover, as some poems which have come to be regarded as nursery rhymes as ancient the Holy Grail, were actually composed by known authors. One such example is “Mary Had a little Lamb,” by the American Sarah Josepha Hale in 1830. I have much to say about nursery rhymes, but I will save that for another time.

Stella’s favorite poem so far is “The Raven,” though we can’t seem to get passed the first two stanzas without the discussion eclipsing any further reading. They also love “Walking by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. At any rate, poetry and rhyme, both English and Polish, is a big part of our household culture. Madgalen became “Tyger, Tyger” when she took to the first line: “Tyger, Tyger, burning bright, / in the forest of the night…” and started repeating it gleefully to herself (like a nursery rhyme), much to our delight.

Madzia “Mah-jah”, as we generally call her (the Polish shortening of the name “Magdalena,” which is as close to her actual name, Magdalen, as the Polish language permits)—is quite a strong and physically imposing child. She was born to me at home on the fourth day of Easter, at a whopping nine-and-a-half pounds. Her lamb-like disposition contrasts with her tendency to extreme bouts of loud rough-and-tumble play. She loves to wrestle and pounce with abandon. She’ll give you a bruise if you’re not careful. We’ve gotten better on the biting thing. Our Madzia is hilariously brutal for such a sweet little girl.

So our little inside family joke about “Madzia, the Tyger” picked-up momentum last fall, when my husband took the girls to the annual rummage sale at the Polish Home Association in Seattle. He happened upon an unexpected gem: a small, bright, orange-and black-striped, furry, tiger suit, complete with paw-gloves and a realistic tiger-head shaped hood. When he held it up she shouted “Tyger, Tyger burning bright!” without missing a beat. It became her costume for trick-or-treating come Hallowe’en time. She was fierce.

So, when I asked her what kind of theme she wanted for her birthday party in April, “Tyger, Tyger” was her immediate response. Of course she had grown, so a new tiger suit was in order. And a special “happy birthday” banner of baby tigers. And a new pair of orange striped tiger pajamas, and a stuffed tiger, and a tiger puzzle. We hung orange and black streamers, blew up orange and black balloons, and painted the front window with a large tiger head surrounded by jungle leaves. Her dad baked “animal crackers” that we loaded into craft paper bags which on which I had pasted a small paper print (“aquatinted” by yours truly), of the original William Blake poem and illustration.

These came in handy for the poetry reading segment of the party, to get little kids in the mood to sit relatively quietly for a bit. Of course, so her sister wouldn’t be left out of the fun, I constructed Stella a papier mache elephant trunk that she wore with her gray ears and dress. I invited all the guests to come dressed as their favorite animals, and bring an animal poem, song or story to share. Kind of like an animal-themed kids ‘open mic.’

I was hoping for good participation and I wasn’t disappointed. One mom dressed up in full-on bear suit to tell us her animal story, another one lead us all in an interactive book reading that allowed the kids to come up and post felt animals to board as the story progressed, some of the more poignant readings—always with an animal-theme, were well received, as well as some impromptu and raucous sing-alongs that got everyone clapping and stomping. It was truly the most fun I’ve ever had a little kid’s birthday party, and several of the other adults said the same.

I had printed out numerous engravings of animals from 19th century sources and put them out on a little table for kids to color and paint, which they did, while the adults had time to visit and enjoy meaty bowls of chili and cornbread. We rewarded the kids for their participation with ice cream and a Polish birthday cake (my husband’s speciality) topped with a “Schleich” tiger figurine, prowling through the green frosting underbrush.

The strains of “Roar” by Katie Perry, “The Tyger” by Tangerine Dream and many different versions, including some lovely instrumentals, of “Eye of the Tiger” by Foreigner bubbled in the background. Of course I had worked on an inspiring “Tyger, Tyger” playlist for weeks leading up to this. Every moment of preparation for this little kid party enabled one “art-mom” to unapologetically dive into a rich poetic theme with much intellectual satisfaction. And there is already some artwork to show for it.

While planning this themed party, I was deliciously awash in visual images of 19th century animal engravings, animal songs and animal poetry. I compiled a collection of animal poems and author bios in order to provide material for the poetry reading encase no one remembered to bring their own poems. Other than “The Tyger,” which I read myself, it wasn’t necessary to get them out. Everyone participated enthusiastically and brought wonderful readings they’d found themselves. But the effort of compiling and researching these poems was all part of the process for me.

Besides poetry and songs, I have watched as many English language film versions of Rudyard Kipling’s “The Jungle Book” from (ranging from 1941 to 2018) as I could get my hands on. I have also spent some time, though not enough yet, with the original text. I suspect I will have read all of Kipling’s stories by the time I am exhausted of this theme. Right after I work through Aesop’s Fables, which I am enjoying, really enjoying for the first time, right now.

The small drawing “Animal Release Valve” was the first animal-themed piece to come out of me since starting this research. There has been more, especially after a recent visit to the zoo, which I will discuss in a separate post. Suffice it to say, I am doing my own “grown-up” work with this “Tyger” (and more broadly, “wild-animal”) theme and I haven’t even begun to reach the bottom of it. Its not just party decorations, but that was the trigger.

With Stella’s third birthday a couple years ago, it was “Angels All Around”—which gave me the chance to rekindle my love of sculpture with a table-sized papier-mâché angel and plenty of hand-colored, 19th century engraved angels flying all around the room. For her fourth, it was all about “Ballet” which was also visually interesting for me and Stella, though not quite as engaging for the other kids. This animal-poetry party was by far the greatest success as far as my guests were concerned, and I believe it has the most far-reaching creative potential for me. The party is long over and I’m still going on this theme. But I can say for certain, each time I do one of these themed kid parties, I enjoy myself, the kids are celebrated, and I think we all learn something.

My son, Virgil’s, 1st birthday, a Thanksgiving Day celebration was a combination of zany, with goofy turkey-hats and construction-paper google-eyed turkeys all around, and also poignant and emotionally challenging. In preparation for this, I made representations of and meditated upon the brutal, life and death challenges of the lives of the Pilgrims. Making a painted, 12-inch paper-dolls of an introspective lone survivor, Squanto, and of a beleaguered, ailing, William Bradford helped me process the unexpected surgical birth of my son and concomitant hospitalization with Covid, which was the most painful and frightening experience of my life. I finally found a picture book, imperfect but the best one I could find, by Eric Metaxes, to present my baby as a gift. This book paints the life of Squanto in the light of Christian redemption. Squanto was a undoubtedly a survivor of great hardship and heartache, who also, by his own words, died in the hope of the Christian heaven. I presented the book and a written statement to my child, which I read aloud to the whole family, which helped me commemorate and lay to rest by a few searching words that traumatic experience for which words continually fall short. And there was also a cake with a “Little Turkey” on it.

Art Finds a Way

These themed kid birthday parties have not only become an opportunity to meditate on a theme, but they are also hidden exit-routes for my “art spirit” to find a way out into the light. Its been years and years since I had the opportunity to participate in a gallery show, or even an open-studio day. But art finds a way.

Sometimes, I feel a bit like Gerard Depardieu’s character in the 2000 film Vatel—a brilliant chef-artist preparing elaborate multi-sensory entertainments for King Louis XIV, works of extravagance matched exquisitely with ingenuity, sensitivity and craft. Certainly my accomplishments are on a slightly smaller scale, and make copious use of the home-printer, but still, I embark upon them in a similar spirit. Only for me, the goal is perhaps not as much to entertain the children, as it is to give expression to my creative impulses surrounding a meaningful theme about which I can lead the way and forge a lasting impression on them.

At the end of Vatel, the brilliant yet unappreciated master artist falls into despair and kills himself after enjoying a final dish of lobster. I suppose he was spiritually destroyed by the prospect of having to work for an evil and selfish king; forced to put his immense talent to the work of creating petty amusements for his moral inferiors—the vicious and vacuous members of the French court. A fascinating story, though, how true it is, I actually don’t know. But I do know that rather than despair at how much of my time and creative energy is swallowed up by the work of providing for the needs of my children, who, lets face it, can seem as fickle and demanding as little Louis XIV’s at times, I rather see these birthday parties as fruitful opportunities to synthesis my two highest aspirations: to make art and to educate my children; to be an artist and to be a mom.