...or tries to...

Monday, February 27, 2012

Sidewalk Stories



Sunday at the Lake Worth Street Painting Festival, where the street turns into a chalk quilt and the paintings last as long as the sky allows.  Four hundred artists this year, blue fingers and orange knees, and the most beautiful curbside crushes you will ever see.























10 comments:

rosanna said...

Such an explosion of colours,great view, than you for sharing. Rosanna

Theo-the-cat said...

Street painting… and body painting ! ;-)
Great series, a pleasure to see these vivid colours!

Daydreamer said...

Wow, Amy! WOW, WOW, WOW!
Four Hundred Artists?
Such variety and Detail and Fascinating imagery.... and All on the street to be Washed away!!!!!!
I Love the little girls in the tutus.... and the bare feet...
I LOVE that what YOU saw was as much the beauty of the Artists at work... the People immersed in their creation... the Beauty of the Body IN the chalk.... the Blending of the two....
I am not sure I could BEAR to put so much time and Love into something so ephemeral.... yet that is what musicians and stage actors do every day... It is only we figurative artists that expect out work to outlast the moment...

What an Unbelievable Banquet that must have been!

Amy said...

It was my pleasure, Rosanna! They work so hard, two days and countless extra hours of painting on the ground, maybe that's why most of them are so young.

Sybee, body painting, well put! I used to look like that in art school, paint everywhere. I would ride home on the train and not know that there was red streaks in my hair, or on my face. But what a trip here, 400 people covered in very color of chalk, and it's a wonderful thing.

Betsey, I couldn't believe the ethereal girls in the tutus, after a whole day of photo-ops, just when I thought that life couldn't give me more, two beautiful little girls living the dream.

My whole reason for making art is to fool time, as useless as that is, to stop it, for as long as my materials last. The idea of the opposite, of artwork that exists in the moment, it almost frightens me. Is it the experience, or the evidence of the experience that matter's most? I could make a case for both.

It's interesting, too, that in a University very near by, Buddhist Monks are making sand mandalas. At the end of the week, it will all be swept away, and bystanders given bottles of the sand they used...

rosanna said...

Have you seen the Mandalas?
A few years ago a group of monks worked in a Museum room on a Mandala for a whole week and I went nearly every day to watch at the progresses.
It was beautiful, amazing and they were so concentrated. At the end of week they lifted up the wooden board ( huge one) on which the Mandala was and went in procession to the sea shore which is 500 mts away. There they lifted over their shoulders the board and simply let the sand run to the sea in a colourful stream.
I would have cried and they seemed so contented and peaceful.
Actually it thaught me a good lesson and I no longer care so much for what I have and much more for who I am. Yet seeing all that beauty destroyed was heartbreaking.
Rosanna

rosanna said...

Amy, you noticed the rooftop terrace. There are many of them ,nearly one on each roof and they were meant exactly for the same reason. They were called Miramare aka see the sea and they were used for lining laundry, hair drying and , yes, for waiting the sailors who had to come back. Many tears were shed on those terraces either for joy or sorrow.
Many many emotions in such a small space, you saw right. Rosanna

Amy said...

What I love most about that is how much we share, no matter the differences in geography.

Can you imagine that kind of waiting? We're so connected now, there are so many ways to find out where someone is, so that kind of widow's walk must be what families feel when their loved one goes missing, when they disappear. The not knowing, the idea of not being able to do anything about it, nothing but wait.

I'm planning to go see the monks' sand paint on Friday, I would love to have an experience similar to yours, to witness something like that.

minwks said...

Thank you for your photos. Loved the lady with the paint brushes in her hair. What is it that is so appealing about little girls in tutus? Their juoy de vivre undoubtedly!

Very nice description also.
Regards
Janine

Amy said...

Thank you Janine! I loved the "hair brushes" too.

I loved the tutu girls because they were dressed up but completely unconcerned about getting dirty or chalky - they were there to draw. For me, it's childhood tutu deprivation. I wasn't into the whole princess thing as a kid, but I did take ballet lessons, tough love lessons in a school that was really trying to create dancers. No tights (wrinkled knees), no pink leotards (just black), and definitely no tutus. I was pretty untalented, so tutus remained a distant dream...

Daydreamer said...

Amy, we had the Monks at our School a few years ago making the sand Mandalas.... it was part of the opening of a meditation room in the new Art building on Campus. I went and watched as much as I could... and at the end they said prayers and swept it up and poured the sand into the small farm pond nearby... with most of the school watching!
It was a fascinating and beautiful process.
I understand there are parts of India where the women make patterns on the ground by their doors every day using colored sand or powder..... every day a new "Rug" to greet the world! I am fascinated by that process.... just haven't figured out how to "Be THERE" in my own daily life....