Sidewalk Chalk Debauchery

Day 22- While wandering around downtown, I stumble across a neat Arcata 19 year tradition. Give the bums a bath day! Every year they bust out fire hoses and spray down the riff raff....ok sorry. Just kidding. Fun and politically correct idea though, huh?
The actual tradition is called 'Pastels on the Park.' It's where over 200 local artists come out to the Plaza, armed with pastels, and spend hours drawing intricate, inspiring, and talent-saturated pictures within pre-purchased 'squares' on the sidewalk. All the money goes towards a children's charity and is obviously a massive social gathering for the community; not to mention the local farmer's market, jugglers, slack-line walkers, and other run away carnie folk who are normally bumbling about the square. So while I was walking about admiring the talented hands at work, I passed the administration table. They looked at me and asked "would you like to help?" Thinking, 'oh, these nice old ladies need a young guy to run and grab some water or move a box.' Hence I replied with an affirmative 'of course!' Their response..."Good. An artist didn't show and we have a sponsor who paid for a drawing. Here is your box of pastels, over there is your 3x3 foot square to draw in, and try and be done in 2 hours. Keep your art work within the square. Oh...and have fun!"
What? She obviously didn't realize who she gave the chalk to. Last thing I drew was a duck in a pond 10 years ago. Damn thing looked more like a floating hamburger in a puddle. And now she wants me to work elbow to elbow with local artists? Maybe the local artists weren't that gifted?
Scratch that. Come to find out there are more working artists in the county then anywhere else in the U.S.
Crap.
So I smiled big, took my art tools in hand, and drudged over to my square. 'Maybe the people around me will be really bad' I hoped.
No dice on that either. In fact, not only were they talented, but they were 2 cute female bits of eye candy.
At this point I thought 'well maybe if I pretend to have a mental retardation, people will sympathize with my drawing skills.' Resisting the urge to repeatedly slap my hand against my face, I dived into my pastel work like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.
Sneaking peaks at neighboring sketches, I took note of their methods on transforming these simple sticks of color into gorgeous pieces of art.
Then just when I thought I couldn't become any less invisible, a reporter from a local newspaper walks up and starts asking me questions.
My thoughts went as the following:
1)- Nooooooooooo!
2)- why doesn't she interview someone who knows what they're doing?
3)- lie. Feed her lots of lies. Don't even give her your real name. Wait, too late. Already did. Why wasn't this my first thought?
4)- faint. Collapse and quiver. No harm there.

Within a few brief minutes the interview was over and I wasn't even aware of what I said. 'Ought to be an interesting article' I mused.
And sure as manure, it was. I found it on the Eureka Reporter website...
http://www.eurekareporter.com/ArticleDisplay.aspx?ArticleID=15873



So after 2 hours of etching, hiding, watering, cursing and scribbling, I finished. Inspired by my current life scenario, I was almost proud of it. Almost. Not enough to sign it though. That is until a smart-ass artist passing by noticed I hadn't signed it. Oops, my bad. So he handed me a quaint color (i.e. blaze orange) and asked me to Johnny Hancock it. Nail in the coffin. Final buzzer. Game over.
So witness here on my blog to the art of the advanced....and then mine.


Not Mine


Not Mine


Not Mine


Not Mine