We've all heard it before. Standing in front of a piece of modern art—maybe a few scribbles, a block of color, or something that looks suspiciously like a juice spill—someone pipes up with the classic line:
"A five-year-old could do that."
And maybe they could! But here’s the kicker: they didn’t. And when they do, we usually don't put it in a gallery—we stick it on the fridge with a magnet shaped like a cartoon fruit.
The truth is, people often say this kind of thing when they see art that breaks from traditional expectations—art that’s bold, raw, or deceptively simple. It pokes at our assumptions and dares us to take it seriously. That alone is pretty powerful. But let's talk about what happens when someone actually does intentionally blur the line between childlike and masterful.
Cue Patrick Nevins and his stunning painting, "Halcyon." At first glance, "Halcyon" might look like a child’s drawing—crayon-like lines, bright, innocent imagery. But wait. Look again. You’ll notice butterflies, painted in exquisite, hyper-realistic trompe l’oeil style, landing gently on the surface of the drawing. Their delicate shadows fall over the “paper” as if they’ve fluttered right out of a dream. That’s the genius of Nevins—he's not just imitating a child’s drawing, he’s elevating it. He’s framing it with reverence and extraordinary technical skill.
"Halcyon" is a love letter to the freedom and purity of childhood expression—and a reminder that it takes a grown-up kind of mastery to make it sing on a gallery wall.
Which brings us to this gem from Banksy:
"A lot of parents will do anything for their kids, except let them be themselves."
Oof. That one stings because it’s true. We cherish children's creativity… until it starts challenging our sense of sophistication. We celebrate their imagination, but sometimes forget to protect it. When artists like Nevins treat children's drawings with dignity and craft, they’re not mocking them—they’re honoring them.
So the next time you hear someone scoff, “My kid could do that,” maybe ask them:
Would you hang it in a gallery? Would you let them keep doing it for the next 20 years? Would you still believe in it when it didn’t look like a ‘real’ job?
Because the gap between “my kid could do that” and “this belongs in a museum” is filled with courage, years of work, and a deep respect for what it means to see the world with unfiltered wonder.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s the kind of art we need a little more of.
