Childhood memories.
A 3-year-old Korean girl who's an expert xylophonist.
A 4-year-old American boy who's a drumming prodigy.
I remember this one time my mom tried to put me in this class that taught still-life drawing. I was six or seven. When I wasn't interested in that, she showed me to another classroom where they were teaching watercolors. I tried to paint a picture of a cup or something like that, I wasn't interested in that either; all I wanted to draw were cartoons and Disney shit, but the only thing my mom saw as legitimate art was realism. What a shame. Had she put me in a cartooning class, I probably would've been producing Marvel-grade work by 11.
I was more than a bit miffed when I recently found out that my parents had plans to get me music lessons when I was a kid but for one reason or another never got around to it.
When I was about seven (or maybe I was a little older; I don't remember), my dad brought home this anime movie for me to watch. I believe it was called "Ninja Scroll". For those of you not in the know, it's an extremely violent animated movie set in feudal Japan. Just the kind of thing you want to show your seven-year-old.
So, we pop it in the VCR and I'm watching and there's a bunch of guys hanging around in a house. They're just sitting around, chatting. All of a sudden, a bunch of ninjas descend upon them and they start decapitating people and amputating limbs left and right and everybody's screaming and blood is spurting everywhere and people are getting disemboweled and...!
I ran into my room, screaming and crying. I think I had nightmares for a week after that.
My father had good intentions. He knew that I liked cartoons, so he rented one for me to watch. But Jesus holy shit Christ, man...
I think that experience fucked me up more than I know.
A 4-year-old American boy who's a drumming prodigy.
I remember this one time my mom tried to put me in this class that taught still-life drawing. I was six or seven. When I wasn't interested in that, she showed me to another classroom where they were teaching watercolors. I tried to paint a picture of a cup or something like that, I wasn't interested in that either; all I wanted to draw were cartoons and Disney shit, but the only thing my mom saw as legitimate art was realism. What a shame. Had she put me in a cartooning class, I probably would've been producing Marvel-grade work by 11.
I was more than a bit miffed when I recently found out that my parents had plans to get me music lessons when I was a kid but for one reason or another never got around to it.
When I was about seven (or maybe I was a little older; I don't remember), my dad brought home this anime movie for me to watch. I believe it was called "Ninja Scroll". For those of you not in the know, it's an extremely violent animated movie set in feudal Japan. Just the kind of thing you want to show your seven-year-old.
So, we pop it in the VCR and I'm watching and there's a bunch of guys hanging around in a house. They're just sitting around, chatting. All of a sudden, a bunch of ninjas descend upon them and they start decapitating people and amputating limbs left and right and everybody's screaming and blood is spurting everywhere and people are getting disemboweled and...!
I ran into my room, screaming and crying. I think I had nightmares for a week after that.
My father had good intentions. He knew that I liked cartoons, so he rented one for me to watch. But Jesus holy shit Christ, man...
I think that experience fucked me up more than I know.