Monday, March 24, 2014

Calling It Home- A Scrap Exchange Tent Revivalist Refinds CenterFest


       
       This past Fall, I had a most excellent Durham adventure with the Scrap Exchange- doing Outreach at the newly restored CenterFest.

OFF-CENTER FEST
            What do I mean by restored? Hasn’t CenterFest been running for the past 30 some odd years?! Well, yes and no. While the Durham Arts Council has been consistently, and tirelessly been running this quality community celebration of the arts year after year since the early 80’s (at least that’s how far back I can remember- no small feat whatsoever!), in moving it to a parking lot behind the YMCA for the last 10+/- years (and admittedly near the new Central Park), they seem to have overlooked one very important thing- “Location, Location, Location”.
            Which is actually quite unfair/misleading. Logistically, the move from the traditional downtown fivepoints location was as shrewd as could be (I discussed the move extensively with the then Event Planner when they first tried it) and she explained that holding it in the flat open space requires vastly less staff, police and volunteers than the maze of downtown Durham). So, I can see why they gave this a try, and why it made their difficult job much more manageable. But by a metric far more subtle, yet- as they found out- far more important, spiritually (by most reckonings) the move was a death knoll. Over the first few years, most of the local craftspeople who had been faithfully doing the festival for decades were dropping out like flies, and I know that I and other friends and family had stopped attending shortly there after.
            Why did these local craftspeople resent being moved from the heart of our beautific old canyon of a downtown, with its rich patina of grit and glory, its sense of pride of place, the very essence of Centerfest, to an innocuous square lake of burning black asphalt? Your guess is as good as mine..
            But I will venture this. When I invest my hard earned money in a small but graceful object of beauty, I am choosing a momento from that time and place, to remind me of my experience of it. A pebble from a walk through a National Park if you will…
            So I ask you, if you pocketed a stone on a trip to a canyon, which would you take home to put on your mantel- a smooth and earthy river rock, or a gooey black chunk of asphalt?
Perhaps this is why the ever wry and witty Durhamite Bill Wilkerson began calling the event Off-CenterFest!

Bull’s Eye!
            Well, much to their credit, the Durham Arts Council has responded to our pleas, listened carefully, and finally decided to put CenterFest back where it belongs, in the throbbing heart of downtown Durham. And walking those bustling streets again, boy oh boy did it feel right…


Arrival and Set Up- Up To The Challenge?
            After spending a looong day doing Outreach for the Scrap Exchange in Raleigh the day before (at BugFest), I have to admit, I was really psyched to be back on Durham soil. Bugfest is a really cool-  

and very well- organized event, but after all these years of getting cooler little by little (Bless Their Hearts), being back in Dear Old DTown reminded me of what a special place it is. I met my outreach pardner for the day, Jesa at the Scrap, where we picked up the van, and headed into the heart of downtown.

A Nice Surprise
            Trying to figure out how to get in through the blockades on Main St., I left the van at a stop light to inquire a policewoman sitting in her patrol car at the blockade- and was surpised to discover that she was sitting in there knitting…! Once I’d got the directions, I had to ask… “whatchya makin’? A little bit sheepishly, she replied “Well, I was making a hat, but I ran out of that yarn, so now I am making a scarf”. I don’t know, somehow, it seemed like a really healthy thing to find a police officer knitting in her patrol car! (and I told her so, which she seemed to appreciate! Though I missed the opportunity to invite her to the knitting circles at the Scrap Exchange…) Somehow, this seemed to bode well for the day…

A Not So Nice Surprise
            Once Jesa and I had wound our way down a crowded Main Streets, lined with crafts people bustling to set up their booths like a middle eastern Bazaar, we found our spot, with the tent and tables left (as planned) from the day before. However, what appearently once was our tent was now in a truly sad state of affairs- it seemed to have taken a serious beating all night from the strong wind that was still, at that moment that we found it, driving into it, pounding it into a pitiful, crumpled, caved in, limping excuse for a was-tent. This thing needed some serious TLC! And with only about a half of an hour to get it functional enough to put the public underneath of it, as well arrange as all of our many barrels and tables of odd bits, not to mention our table of delicate hand-crafted merchandize, Jesa and I had to think quick on our feet. With a whole vanload of scrap, who were we, if not impromptu tent surgeons?!....Indeed, I remembered from the day before’s event that one thing that the Scrap Exchange is currently abundantly wealthy in is orange nylon twine. And sure enough, from the back of the van, we excavated a whole brimming barrelful. And so we went to work…

Pitching a Tent On a Street In a Wind Storm

            One thing about the canyon like nature of downtowns is they are often windy. But unlike pitching a tent in a real canyon, where you might have some sandy river soil to tie into, or perhaps a shrub, we were pretty much empty handed as far as place to tie into on the side the wind was blowing from. And the broken tent was needing some serious tensile support at the midpoint of that side, to keep it from caving into itself.
So, we had to create our own cove, a refuge from the raging wind. And for this, we turned to the hulking resource of our van. Reparking it, perbendicular to the curb and the wind, we created both a shelter from it, and a place to tie in/anchor on to. Stretching our orange twine from the weak point of our tent, to the top of edge of the drivers side door (with the window cracked), we resurrected our tent, which rose (somewhat like a kite) back to life, with at least some semblance of stature and a sense of duty to protect the earthlings beneath its small canopy. HOORAH!


            Around that time, we received some reinforcements from the Scrap Board,
Jodi, who rolled up her sleeves, and helped us in the important business of securing the tent and setting up for the oncoming crowds.
            From a large banner, we gleaned a long ‘pole’ of trim, which we used to brace another dilapidated wall (hanging the banner instead on the outside of the van). And for the 3rd wall, we ran another line from the van door, around a tree as a leverage point, a back to the wall’s center, plucking it back into shape. As for the forth and final wall, we didn’t have to push that wall out, the billowing wind seemed to be doing that job well!






            From these lines we hung the beautiful quilted banners that some kind soul has been sewing us lately (I am ashamed that I don’t know who), as well as some tshirts for sale. A bit more tweeking of barrel/table placement for crowd flow, and BADA! We had ourselves a functional space, worthy of calling home/studio for the day.

            And in the course of it all, we even managed to help our neighbors, the Nasher Museum of Art, to bolster themselves against the wind, and look good doing it too!

CountryBoy Will Survive!
            They were ultra grateful for the help,            and pocket knife and fistful of orange twine in hand, sturdy ‘roof’ now above our heads, a good Midwesterner cutie Jesa ‘tending the scrap hearth’, I have to admit, I felt a perticular kind of manly satisfaction, like some kind of Scrap Family of The Prairie. “Scrap Boy will survive!” as the song goes, or something like that… It was a good feeling- a feeling of wholeness, of purpose, and perhaps a renewed/deepened sense of pride in, and understanding of what the Scrap Exchange represents, or can represent. Survival by resourcefulness, by improvization.  Seems my yearly Iron Crafter training was paying dividends. Who knows, maybe I even made some of my own Midwesterner ancestors proud…
            As an aside, and then I’ll shut up about it, back in 2011, when I was in Norfolk, VA, having to scrap together an intensive exhibition in a foreign land (much out of the materials that I found there), I conceived of the MacGyver Award For Resourcefulness (which I wrote about in an early blog post during that time (LINK). I know that there are many many people whose survival depends on practicing far far more extreme versions of this petty act of resourcefull tap dancing each and everyday, but I would like to award our little prairie homestead crew with a MacGyver Of The Month Award (as Jodi aptly adapted it). You can award yourself or a deserving somebody else one of these too!

ON WITH THE SHOW
            Once we were set up, people immediately started to trickle in, and make stuff, shuffling eagerly through the barrels and boxes, and dragging these piles back to the tables. I improvised a ‘light chime’ which I hung from the edge of the tent to catch the sun light.


            One family that I especially enjoyed watching was a family from Mexico- a mother and father, and a teenaged daughter and son.

Working quietly, and quickly, they seemed to be quietly relishing this chance opportunity..(as in fact I have witnessed other central Americans at similar opportunities).

What also struck me was that they stuck close together, and worked together as a team. When they were finished with their pieces, the father helped their teenaged children to hang their pieces up, continuing the row, against the sun. This was Contribution as a team.

            It is interesting, I had to reflect. at similar events, I had noticed that Central Americans particularly cherished /  relished the chance to make public art.
It also struck me that here were teenagers actually hanging out with their parents!...and working together as a team. This reminded me of the picture of my own tightknit family of East European / Jewish emigrants. Here they were, in a foreign land, improvising.

A Home Away From Home or Finding A Scrap Family
            As we were making stuff, I noticed a fellow dressed with in a wild assortment of African looking garments walk by, toting a hand carved African stool, and a small box behind him on a small dolly… strange I thought, was he selling the stools? Why just one? He disappeared into the crowd, and puzzled, I shrugged and forgot about it.

            However, an hour or two later, an even wilder character emerged from the crowd, this one bearing similar garb, but also a huge mane of bright neon pink raffia hair, strewn with freshly picked ground vines..and wild tribal face paint, like Sun Ra’s pygmy oracle who I soon realized was the same man, in a more heightened state, it seemed, of himself. However, as we talked, he seemed a little bit wound up, and maybe I noticed just a tint of hurt in his voice. He informed us that he had tried to set up an impromtu face painting booth in the street, but had been shutdown by the organizers, for not having a permit. I could tell he was feeling a little bit shut out, which, fair or not (I recognized from a recent solo trip to Europe) always smarts the most when you are out on a limb, in a foreign land, far far from home.
            He asked us if he could set up in our Scrap Exchange booth, and though I now regret being so uptight and by the book, I told him it probably wasn’t a good idea (which it probably wasn’t, for a variety of reasons). However, recognizing a kindered spirit, we did appreciate his style very much, and told him so. And when a cheeky little girl who was sitting at the table took notice, and firmly (beyond her years) informed him that she liked his outfit, he graciously accepted the compliment, promptly opened up, beamed, came on in, pulled up a chair and joined the party! (and kicked it up a notch or two!)



At this point, ‘the party’ mainly consisted of the little caucasian gal and her father, and an African American family of 5, who were all busy making their own projects, with a few other hard workers scattered around, working earnestly on the sidewalk as well, and now our new pan-African ‘bushman’ friend who somehow seemed to complete the party.


            And so for the latter part of the afternoon, we all hung out, loosely scattered around the small tent and table making stuff, placid as can be in that certain special humm that you can hear if you listen closely when a group of people is focused on making something, but also not minding, even enjoying doing it in the proximity of others. Happy as clams we were! I don’t know what it was, but it seemed like some kind of slice of heaven. Looking back- a certain ideal of sorts…


A Reflection           
            An impromptu community, just enjoying the rare chance to be creative, together; enjoying one another’s company. In such rare instances, Friends, family, strangers, they all meld into one. Is this the warm tonic of creativity at work?
            If there are some things missing from our society, our culture these days, I think we might have found one under that tent that day. And our colorful new African friend- feeling like a round peg in a square hole, like the rest of us, found a family of friends for the day.
            Scattered loosely around a table, lost in a casual communion, I guess in some way we were celebrating our own microcosm of CenterFest.
            Pitching a tent in a windy ‘desert’, creating a space for creating together,
I am reminded once again that this spirit of inclusivity, added to the spirit of creativity, that is part of what makes the Scrap Exchange such a special, unique, valuable place. With short sighted eyes, one (a Republican senator for instance) could easily mistake the Scrap Exchange as a warehouse full of (s)crap. Which of course it is. But of course, as any one who has experienced this organization’s ethos and spirit first hand can tell you, this is the perspective of the blind man, with his hand (or head) up the elephant’s ass.

Epilogue- What Is Peace?
            At some point in the day, I took a walk around, to see what a restored CenterFest looked and felt like. And it felt great! It felt both new and fresh, and old and familiar. All of the people I spoke with shared the same sense that an important thing had occurred, restoring CenterFest to Center. “10x better” said a long time CenterFest attending  Japanese-born potter.
             While surveying around, I happened to meet a woman, Bonnie Cohen, set up in front of the Ninth St. Bakery, who put to me-to everyone- a very open ended question “What Does Peace Mean To You?” What a wonderful, simple and complex question; I couldn’t help but be touched by the mere posing of it.
            Well, therein is my new answer for you Bonnie, though I might not have guessed it…
Finding The Resources You Need (both internal and external), But Maybe Didn’t Know You Had, Pitching A Tent Against The Wind, ReFinding Your Home (wether in your community, or yourself). Coming in from a cold wind blowing, to find friends and family in strangers, and share in the warmth of each other’s and your own creativity. gathering together to enjoy. Finding family in strangers. The chance to enjoy being alone, in your own mental/creative space, yet still feel connected- together.

That is what peace is for me.

            So, I did find a special ‘pebble for my pocket’ this CenterFest. With plenty to lament and worry about our human race these days, this was one soft and smooth, varied and colorful snapshot of Durham; my Human Family; and a strange new kind of Peace, for me to hold onto.






Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Alexander Helps Build Shelving For Reptire Studio













The Tire Miasma



Alexander Graduates!


My bud Alexander graduated from High School this month!

To celebrate, we all went out to eat at The Blue Note Grill in Durham, and then I took Alexander and our friend Tara (visiting from Iowa) out for a night on the town in Durham.

Alexander seemed to really enjoy and appreciate this adventure.





The next day we took a tour of the Scrap Exchange!

And then, as we made our sleepy way back home from Durham to Siler City, headed down 15-501, approaching the Bynum Bridge, Alexander made one last request...

And that was to visit one of our favorite spots, below the damn there on the Haw.
We had explored this area one hot summer day several years ago, in celebration of surviving a very messy summer camp that we had both worked that summer.

I know that that memory had always stuck with Alex, as it had I, and it somehow seemed like a perfect way to finally commemorate Alex's passage.

We made a long trek down the dam that day, and I think that it will long be etched in all of our minds.


Alexander


Wednesday, February 15, 2012

'Lens Project' with The Hispanic Liaison


A few years ago, I did a series of projects with the Youth Group at The Hispanic Liaison, here in Siler City. As I never did share this project on the blog (which I probably started after), I thought I'd share a little bit here.

I was invited to do an art project with the youth group (10-15 latino High Schoolers) by their then Program Coordinator Carrie Fields (who was later to become my girlfriend), and Sandra Forester (title)

The three of us had previously discussed doing a mural on a wall that had been having problems with gang grafitti, on the side of a local 'tienda' in the same alley way that my studio also inhabits.

However, knowing well what an undertaking a collaborative mural is, I thought it might be best to start with something smaller..

So, after a series of discussions with Ms Fields, we agreed on a series of art projects incorporating  the medium of collage, each building off the previous, finally culminating in a group project.

I figured, if this group could prove themselves capable of undertaking this large group project, then I would consider undertaking a mural with them.

The first of our projects was what I called the Lens Project.
This utilized a collection of coffee lids that had once been donated to me by Donna Bianco, while I was  teaching the Arts & Literature summer camp, at Our Neighborhood Pizzaria/School (yes!) (now the Bella Donna).

The idea was that each of these white card board lids, each with a smooth rounded lip, would be fitted with an image(cut from magazine xeroxs), creating sort of image-tiles, that the students could then arrange, and rearrange, exploring approaches to visual story telling...

To create the images, Carrie and I poured through our collections of National Geographics, looking for interesting imagery. These pages we xeroxed, and presented as a grand pile of imagery for the students to dig through, and select.

Once they had selected an image, the student would color it in with markers, and then cut it size, to fit on the surface of the coffee cup lids.

Then the real fun began!

We would get three students to pick one 'image-tile' each, so that we had three images to work with. 
Then, I would challenge the students to create stories from the sequence of image tiles.
THEN, we would rearrange the tiles, to create a new story! It was pretty wild!

This was to be the youth group's introduction to visual story telling using collage. Later, we would expand on these ideas in our own personal projects, and even a larger group project! Perhaps I will discuss these another time.

Towards the end of our time together, I discovered a way to combine all of these circular image tiles together, in with in the frame of a bicycle tire (a favorite prop of mine).

The result that I was going for was that of a compound eye (such as that of a dragon fly), or a lens, perhaps a magnifying glass, as the tiles created a gentle bulge when fit with in the black frame of the tire. I left it to the youth group to arrange them. Here is Carrie, holding the complex of tiles, with out the bicycle tire frame. 

Though Carrie has since moved on, this collaborative artwork still hangs in the office of Sylvio, the new Coordinator of the Hispanic Liaison Youth Group, a testament of all of work together.




Wire Sculpture Artist in Residency at the Carrboro ArtsCenter



Well, we survived Wire Camp, yet again! No one got their an eye poked out, thanks to our vigilance and practice of good safety.

As I had expected, the younger after school students were a little bit too spastic to very successful.
Not that many of them did not try (and a few of those succeeded!)

But we did have some glorious accomplishments from the older group!


One obstacle that I encountered, was that wire can be hard to see. I found that it was difficult for the students to see my wire while demonstrating techniques. And also, because the tables in the Arts Center's Jane Filer Painting Studio's are so (duely) covered with paint, it becomes difficult to see what you are doing, even 2 feet in front of you. To solve these problems, I elected to use some large electric wire, coated in red plastic, which I could hold up against a clean(ish) white wall, during my demonstrations. I also coated the draped the tables with butcher paper, which made a huge difference in reducing the visual clutter, which can at a height when working with wire (even with no paint splatters on your work surface).  


Unfortunately, the younger campers especially showed such an unquenchable thirst for tearing holes in this surface, that I had to wonder a) what is it in a child that abhors clean white surfaces?.. and b) perhaps a paper destroying workshop would be more successful..






















These gals got into the electric wire!