Art is Work

Last Thursday I set aside everything else to go with Linda and "do a show," Broadripple Art Fair put on by the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Linda books the same motel year after year where there is a big retention pond in the middle of a great deal of urban construction. Previous years we've fed the ducks.

This year Linda fished, every night. Fishing is a passion, and if she had her druthers she'd do a lot more. That striped stool carried a lot of gear; the brown vest the same. She opened her tackle box in the room and ooh'd and aah'd, but I didn't fall for it. I know fishing from nothing. She caught bass and sunnies (whatever they are). She put them all back. I wonder if she caught any twice.

We left for Indianapolis Thursday afternoon; Friday morning we arrived early at the art museum to set up.

It was cold and wet, and became colder and wetter in the falling rain. Many set up the following morning. Linda's youngest cousin, Bruce, arrived to help. Bruce is fifty five. He has a lot of good setting up years left in him.

Saturday was too cold and miserable to recount. When not huddled in my chair I wandered around. All weekend I watched a bus being painted. I once painted all our interior booth set up brown, using spray cans. My index finger was numb for a month. These fellows used the index finger method. I've seen thumb controls that can be put over the button. Perhaps they haven't arrived yet in Indianapolis.

Do not be deceived by blue sky. The temperature did not reach sixty that day.

Another great find while walking for warmth! An art teacher put together this hands on children's project. She and her assistants built geodesic domes using dowels. Think Tinker Toys! Covered the dome with chicken wire. Strategically placed bins of rag strips and invited passers by to weave. They had a four harness Nilus LeClerc on a table, to demonstrate "regular" weaving. It had less than an inch of work on it. The domes were covered by Sunday night.

 Plenty of "real" art on display. The artist in the upper left won a third place ribbon. Sadly, I never located first and second. They must have been something!

The weather was beautiful for Sunday; sixty and sunshine. Ten degrees from perfect, but not bad.

Some garden art. I could go on and on; there was more than enough to look at.

My favorites, the children. I asked the young father permission to snap his little girl, and he smiled, too.

Then it was Sunday night, and over. Tear down, pack up, go home. Our neighbor was a glass artist. As he packed up I saw the paint brush on the back of a panel. Removes dirt from those pesky spots in his creations, I'm sure. I loved the dad going for their van, trailed by his boys.

Prom in the limo lane

Dances have come and gone in the two years I've spent learning teen 101. I took them to a parent’s house for pictures, a parent would get the group to the restaurant, to the school, and I would pick up mine from school. I required a written itinerary and the phone numbers of parents and dates involved.

Actually meeting parents for more than “Hello, nice to finally meet you,” never seems to work out. I’m not too spry, and tend to hang to the outside of a group of milling youngsters and/or parents. Emily has a boyfriend and I've barely said “Hello” to a parent. That was scheduled for the last dance. 

I went to the door with Emily, it opened, a tiny yapping dog bolted into the yard and water splashed over the foyer floor.“It’s chaos,” moaned the woman who opened the door. Emily disappeared inside, young children in the foyer laughed uproariously, other children set out after the dog.  

“Welcome to chaos,” the woman said again. Having no intention of stepping in and slipping on dog pee, I assured her the evening would be fine and we could meet some other time. I retraced my steps, and learned later from Emily, the young pranksters had dropped water balloons from the landing. I took care to keep an eye on the dog and pursuers as I left.

Now it’s Hamilton’s prom this weekend. In Cleveland, Ohio, about forty miles up the interstate, as the limo travels. A hotel ballroom. This is insane. A mere two generations from my prom, ratcheted from the gymnasium to a hotel ballroom in the next county.

Some of the excess, of course, is the affluence of the school district we are attached to. A century old boundary line lumps a few hundred township students into a city district of several thousand children, whose families’ incomes are double. I believe, from twenty five years of observing the city, the affluence is transient, moving on at the next promotion, or just plain new money. Old money must have more sense.

Hamilton provided the obligatory itinerary and the list of phone numbers. I believe he spent much of his birthday money on his share of the limo, prom tickets, corsage for his date. He eschewed a tuxedo and opted for a bow tie to go with his new suit. To match his date’s dress, I hear. There is a cadre of parents to schlep children to the restaurant, the limo pick up and discharge point, the after prom affair, clothes changing stations, etc.

I've met Hamilton’s date, a nice girl. All Emily and Hamilton’s group are pleasant youngsters. The other night his date’s mother called me, wanting to arrange an evening with Hamilton and me. I was so confused I probably sounded confusing.  Hamilton is leaving so soon after graduation I couldn't understand needing to start a relationship now. I even intimated as much.

It seems that although the two have enjoyed going to movies and supper, Hamilton and mama have not met. How can that be? Well, the young lady drives her own automobile, and has met Hamilton at the venues his grandma has driven him to and retrieved him from. My other hard and fast rule, teenagers do not drive other teenagers.

The mama struggled to make a date for all of us, then some of us, and I struggled to both comprehend, and to let her know I would not be in town for the next five days. Aunt Janice or Uncle Tom will be dropping him off at the first address on the prom itinerary. I will be in Indianapolis, at the Broad Ripple Art Fair, helping Linda and feeding ducks.

I believe Hamilton has a supper engagement with his date’s family one night this week. He’ll pass scrutiny; he’s a personable young man. Mama will be satisfied. The dance will be lovely and I’ll hear all about it next Monday.

Perhaps I should read the book

Laura’s sixth grade class read The Breadwinner over the semester. When she began talking about it I took an internet look. It’s set in Afghanistan, the story of first one, then two little girls trying to earn enough to provide daily sustenance to the family.

When I was twelve, as she is, I had as much as I could about the war, its heroes and its atrocities. Amazing the books on hand in homes where I babysat. Imagining much of what I read simply terrified me. I doubt my parents would have approved. I kept track of Laura’s progress in the book; we listened at supper of the current events of Parvana and Shauzia.

Laura did not seem to engage with the book. She had the facts at hand, but she was not living in the pages, relating to the lives of the characters. She and her siblings have devoured every fantasy book published, before and after Harry Potter; I hear enthusiasm when those characters are discussed.

I tried to nudge her into understanding the lives she was reading about. “Wouldn't it be frightening to have police come in and take away someone? What if your brother was taken away and we didn't know where or why?” She evaluated this a moment and said yes, Parvana was very frightened, but not with the conviction of understanding.

She is only twelve years old, and a voracious reader. I know some day the world will leap off a page for her. In the meantime, she’d rather spend her time designing and drawing “fashion.” One day she announced she had been selected to paint the ceiling tile, and she needed a ride home from school. The tile was too big to get on the bus.

Apparently there are many painted tiles on the social studies ceiling; each year a student is selected to illustrate the book the class read. We brought the tile home last week; Laura set up in the barn workshop and painted the scene she selected. I took the tile back to school today and a janitor met me in the parking lot. “Oh, Mr. Hildebrand’s room,” he said and took it away.

We planted...

Gerbera

Arenaria Montana – Sandwort

Blue star creeper

Dwarf bee balm

Sweet woodruff

False spirea

White comets

Heuchera

Bleeding heart

Hens and chicks

Coral bells

Columbine

And possibly more.

Not real sure where it all landed.

And all the allium are fit to pop. Everyone will be purple.

The Solomon's seal is filling in this year.

I promise no more garden pictures until it has spread about a bit.

June or July

But do look at these two late bloomers,

Red anemones and blue.

We worked in the garden from nine to five.

A less royal we this week;

I'm beat, too.

Last band concert (this year).

(Note to self: stop wearing hearing aids to band concerts.)

The members wore black, as usual, except, to celebrate their last concert the seniors were permitted to wear any reasonable thing they wished to. The girls wore pretty dresses, Hamilton wore his blue shirt. There’s not much to say about men’s outfits.

The only newsworthy item of the event is Emily’s haircut. It’s moved her from school girl to young woman. My tin ear was not impressed by the music, and the point of the evening seemed to be recognizing the seniors, and distributing tokens of appreciation for jobs well done to everyone, and especially the departing seniors. They were honored last, and the affair became quite raucous.

Emily's haircut; girls in pretty dresses

Hamilton, even farther away

Taken with cell phone on close up and held high over my head

Not too bad

A booklet of all senior’s pictures with short statements of their aspirations was my highlight. I laughed out loud early on, and then took great pains to contain my amusement as required. Highlights of mostly the amusing follow. All these youngsters have been accepted to a college and most have a string of scholarships.

Michael: Upon graduation I wish to be a Pharmacist and participate in Doctors without Borders program to distribute medication to the less fortunate in Latin America. (He probably will.)

Zach: Plans to become an overweight P.E. teacher who can’t even do a push-up, who makes his students run laps while he rides a golf cart around the field.

Reagan: The Peace Corps, then work in a hospital, and after that field work for the U.N. (I’d bet on her, too.)

Abby: Plans to graduate from Ohio State, move to Tybee Island with her two best friends and become a successful emergency room physicians assistant. After saving his life she will then fall madly in love with Indians outfielder, Michael Brantley. They will have three beautiful children and live in the tropics with their many dogs.

Brian: After college, plans to travel Southeast Asia to be trained in various forms of martial arts by the League of Shadows leader. He then plans to return to Gotham and be the hero they deserve and spend the rest of his days fighting crime.

Samantha: to find a successful career that makes a lot of money so I can travel the world and visit all 7 continents. Then eventually settle down in a warm climate, become a beach bum with my husband, 3 kids and Dalmatian. Playing my flute on the street corner at night for some extra spending money.

Caroline: After graduating will spend a few years married to each member of One Direction and possibly one or two of the Franco brothers, after which she intends to use the alimony to travel the world fighting crime and leading feminism revival movements while living in a tree to protest deforestation.

Joseph: After college will travel deep into the Amazon to find himself and return to a changed society where he will be alone, soon to return to the Amazonian people where he will then be made their chief and live out his life in peace.

Betsy: Finally getting my Hogwarts Letter in the mail, watching Leonardo DiCaprio earn his Oscar, going on a quest to find Waldo, and becoming a Pokémon master.

Calvin: I want to go into space at least once.

Bobby: Graduate college with a degree in Digital Arts and Animation, go on to becoming a Walt Disney Imagineer, and last retire and work as a monorail operator at Walt Disney World Resort  in Florida.

Marisa: Become an Intervention Specialist and marry a doctor/lawyer/CEO and have a few beautiful babies. If that doesn't work out I’m opening a paint-a-plate store with my friend Heather.