Monday, May 30, 2005
Saturday on Belmont
~Saturday on Belmont.
I told my daughter Anna I was going to go home and blog about this. She reminded me gently that it was in fact Thursday on Alberta. We were at a street fair that is well known as The Last Thursday Art Walk. Though my sales were next to nil, I had such a wonderful time. Unfortunately Jessie couldn't make it, but I was surrounded by my three other daughters, Anna, Leah, and Emily. Some of the things I want to write about might cause some readers to assume that I'm either racist, bigoted, homophobic or any other such nonsense, which I'm not.
Growing up in a small town and living in very conservative areas most of my life I have not been immersed in any culture that might be construed as "alternative" so please forgive my eye popping and jaw dropping observations as I sat behind our little table on Alberta.
We had a late start as Emily, Leah, and I were looking around in all the cute shops under Anna's apartment, Anna had resorted to come looking for us. There are so many awesome shops in her neighborhood one of which is thankfully a wonderful Espresso place. We checked out vintage resell shops, a very up-scale grocery, and stores with names like, Spoink, Blue Monk, etc...Actually I can't remember the other ones. Like I said we had somewhat of a late start but this didn't deter our enthusiasm for the rest of our day.
The sun was very high and very hot, Alberta was moving somewhat slowly as we made our way looking for a spot to set up. We found a nice little niche between two Artists. As I have no confidence in my ability to display my wares I left this up to my daughters, Anna and Leah. Emily and I decided to meander down the sidewalk looking for some iced tea and to watch other's setting up. There was only one grocery store that we came across. Inside we discovered it was more or less catered to the Mexican population in the area as everything was labeled in Spanish. My Spanish from school is now absent from my mind but we did find that they had no Iced tea, but many other interesting things that I couldn't figure out. We settled on some Spanish soda and plenty of water bottles.
On our walk we were introduced to Art we've not seen the likes of before. You know there are so many creative people out there, it just amazes me. You can practically sell anything if you add a personal touch to to it. Paint the inside of those globes that surround your ceiling lights and people grab them up for a gazing globe to put in their garden. You can make hanging planters out of motorcycle chains and rims from a bicycle, the guy next to us did simple drawings on scrap wood, simple pencil and crayon with a twist. The other people next to our table had all kinds of different sizes and shapes of wood, most looked like they weren't good for anything but kindling, but they managed to paint very interesting pictures on them and people were just buying them up right and left.
Someone used the 6 ft tall chain link fence around an abandoned lot to hang their beautiful blown glass vases, the more vases she hung the better they looked because the fence was curving over and giving them the proper hanging position. There were people on street corners selling clothes and handbags, baby clothes, knitted bikini's, and some guys cleared out there old bookstore and sold books for a dollar. When I passed they hadn't unpacked yet, and it was probably better that way. They would have had to drag me away screaming once I started going through them. We came across homemade soaps with names like "Filthy Viking", "Essence of Marilyn" and so forth. Hand forged rod iron made into many useful things.
After visiting with many vendors about their wares and after obtaining much inspiration and encouragement and many new ideas we figured it was time to get back and see if any action had hit our table.
We all sat for a bit and took turns walking the street to check out the other artists. I pretty much stayed there the rest of the night as I looked in awe and wonder at all the amazing people. Like I said before, this was all so new to me and but I came to understand why my daughter Anna loves living in Portland.
I sat in the hub of all this creative expression and marveled at the acceptance that was bestowed on everyone around me. I was a witness to hand holding by gay women, more then a few times. Women covered in tattoos, even women my age! There were girls running around in old hippie skirts that I used to live in, little tattoos sneaking out from underneath to curve gently up their backs. Women who proudly wore their large tattoos on their arms. And of course because I am a "face watcher" I looked at the faces of those people that surrounded these women. Not once did I see a judgmental face. I didn't see shock or mistrust. And while I tried not to appear to have dropped my jaw a few times, or to have let my eyes pop out of my head a few times, I couldn't get over the fact that this was normal here. And though I sat at my table with my pink striped hair no one seemed to bat an eye about it. This is not so where I live. I saw the most marvelous dread locks on both women and men, they were elegant, and I envied them. Not so much for the fact that they had beautiful dread locks but for their carefree manner in wearing them. On occasion my youngest would playfully ask men if they had girlfriends, or wives that might be interested in a gift of jewelry, and again more then once these men looked at each other and said, "no, we have no girlfriends." After they left, I had to remind Emily and myself that this was Portland and perhaps these men were gay, after which Emily threw her hand to her mouth and laughed in embarrassment. We both did.
Down the street they were handing out free beer, we had musicians across the street from us singing up a storm. As night fell we brought out candles and lanterns as did everyone else around us. Though the weather was hot and there were people everywhere I heard no sounds of violence, no arguments. There was one time I heard a stir in the crowd, this was happening as a woman and her troupe marched down the sidewalk, her wearing a George Bush mask with a crown that said "The Emperor has no clothes" while she is in thigh high white boots, star's and stripes underwear and her upper torso clothing consisted of two blue pasties. My daughter
managed to get a couple of photos of this, which you can see if you go to my sidebar and look at Anna's Photo's.
Many people stopped to look at my jewelry and I heard many complements. I was also able to learn some helpful hints regarding the use of display cases, velvet, perhaps changing the prices. Some even suggested that my stuff might do better on the first Thursday which is held in the Pearl District. This was not on my mind as we packed it up for the night. My thoughts were on the woman who stopped to visit and was my age. She had fled Boston with her son in 1993 from which she simply stated as domestic violence, she said no more on that. She showed me her driver's license where she had changed her last name to DIYG, which she said stood for Do It Yourself with God. I felt an instant bond with this woman who walked with her head held high, who had found a place where she was accepted and was thriving.
This next paragraph is "The History" copied from the back of a flyer distributed through out Portland regarding "Alberta Street ~ Where LIfe and Art Meet":
"Alberta Street's name was likely a tribute to England's Princess Alberta. The area was first settled by working class German, Irish, Russian, Scandinavian, Jewish and Polish immigrants who came to fill the jobs provided by the Albina rail yards in the mid 1880's. The Vanport Flood in 1948 displaced many African-Americans who had come to work in the shipyards during World War II, some moving to the Alberta Street area. It was a place where people could find affordable, single family homes. From the 1960's through the early 1990's disinvestment in the surrounding neighborhood started a spiral of decline. By the mid 1990's, new and long time residents of the neighborhood began working together to revitalize Alberta Street, now a vibrant multicultural community of people and small businesses full of creativity and talent." ¶ 5/30/2005 11:37:00 AM
I told my daughter Anna I was going to go home and blog about this. She reminded me gently that it was in fact Thursday on Alberta. We were at a street fair that is well known as The Last Thursday Art Walk. Though my sales were next to nil, I had such a wonderful time. Unfortunately Jessie couldn't make it, but I was surrounded by my three other daughters, Anna, Leah, and Emily. Some of the things I want to write about might cause some readers to assume that I'm either racist, bigoted, homophobic or any other such nonsense, which I'm not.
Growing up in a small town and living in very conservative areas most of my life I have not been immersed in any culture that might be construed as "alternative" so please forgive my eye popping and jaw dropping observations as I sat behind our little table on Alberta.
We had a late start as Emily, Leah, and I were looking around in all the cute shops under Anna's apartment, Anna had resorted to come looking for us. There are so many awesome shops in her neighborhood one of which is thankfully a wonderful Espresso place. We checked out vintage resell shops, a very up-scale grocery, and stores with names like, Spoink, Blue Monk, etc...Actually I can't remember the other ones. Like I said we had somewhat of a late start but this didn't deter our enthusiasm for the rest of our day.
The sun was very high and very hot, Alberta was moving somewhat slowly as we made our way looking for a spot to set up. We found a nice little niche between two Artists. As I have no confidence in my ability to display my wares I left this up to my daughters, Anna and Leah. Emily and I decided to meander down the sidewalk looking for some iced tea and to watch other's setting up. There was only one grocery store that we came across. Inside we discovered it was more or less catered to the Mexican population in the area as everything was labeled in Spanish. My Spanish from school is now absent from my mind but we did find that they had no Iced tea, but many other interesting things that I couldn't figure out. We settled on some Spanish soda and plenty of water bottles.
On our walk we were introduced to Art we've not seen the likes of before. You know there are so many creative people out there, it just amazes me. You can practically sell anything if you add a personal touch to to it. Paint the inside of those globes that surround your ceiling lights and people grab them up for a gazing globe to put in their garden. You can make hanging planters out of motorcycle chains and rims from a bicycle, the guy next to us did simple drawings on scrap wood, simple pencil and crayon with a twist. The other people next to our table had all kinds of different sizes and shapes of wood, most looked like they weren't good for anything but kindling, but they managed to paint very interesting pictures on them and people were just buying them up right and left.
Someone used the 6 ft tall chain link fence around an abandoned lot to hang their beautiful blown glass vases, the more vases she hung the better they looked because the fence was curving over and giving them the proper hanging position. There were people on street corners selling clothes and handbags, baby clothes, knitted bikini's, and some guys cleared out there old bookstore and sold books for a dollar. When I passed they hadn't unpacked yet, and it was probably better that way. They would have had to drag me away screaming once I started going through them. We came across homemade soaps with names like "Filthy Viking", "Essence of Marilyn" and so forth. Hand forged rod iron made into many useful things.
After visiting with many vendors about their wares and after obtaining much inspiration and encouragement and many new ideas we figured it was time to get back and see if any action had hit our table.
We all sat for a bit and took turns walking the street to check out the other artists. I pretty much stayed there the rest of the night as I looked in awe and wonder at all the amazing people. Like I said before, this was all so new to me and but I came to understand why my daughter Anna loves living in Portland.
I sat in the hub of all this creative expression and marveled at the acceptance that was bestowed on everyone around me. I was a witness to hand holding by gay women, more then a few times. Women covered in tattoos, even women my age! There were girls running around in old hippie skirts that I used to live in, little tattoos sneaking out from underneath to curve gently up their backs. Women who proudly wore their large tattoos on their arms. And of course because I am a "face watcher" I looked at the faces of those people that surrounded these women. Not once did I see a judgmental face. I didn't see shock or mistrust. And while I tried not to appear to have dropped my jaw a few times, or to have let my eyes pop out of my head a few times, I couldn't get over the fact that this was normal here. And though I sat at my table with my pink striped hair no one seemed to bat an eye about it. This is not so where I live. I saw the most marvelous dread locks on both women and men, they were elegant, and I envied them. Not so much for the fact that they had beautiful dread locks but for their carefree manner in wearing them. On occasion my youngest would playfully ask men if they had girlfriends, or wives that might be interested in a gift of jewelry, and again more then once these men looked at each other and said, "no, we have no girlfriends." After they left, I had to remind Emily and myself that this was Portland and perhaps these men were gay, after which Emily threw her hand to her mouth and laughed in embarrassment. We both did.
Down the street they were handing out free beer, we had musicians across the street from us singing up a storm. As night fell we brought out candles and lanterns as did everyone else around us. Though the weather was hot and there were people everywhere I heard no sounds of violence, no arguments. There was one time I heard a stir in the crowd, this was happening as a woman and her troupe marched down the sidewalk, her wearing a George Bush mask with a crown that said "The Emperor has no clothes" while she is in thigh high white boots, star's and stripes underwear and her upper torso clothing consisted of two blue pasties. My daughter
managed to get a couple of photos of this, which you can see if you go to my sidebar and look at Anna's Photo's.
Many people stopped to look at my jewelry and I heard many complements. I was also able to learn some helpful hints regarding the use of display cases, velvet, perhaps changing the prices. Some even suggested that my stuff might do better on the first Thursday which is held in the Pearl District. This was not on my mind as we packed it up for the night. My thoughts were on the woman who stopped to visit and was my age. She had fled Boston with her son in 1993 from which she simply stated as domestic violence, she said no more on that. She showed me her driver's license where she had changed her last name to DIYG, which she said stood for Do It Yourself with God. I felt an instant bond with this woman who walked with her head held high, who had found a place where she was accepted and was thriving.
This next paragraph is "The History" copied from the back of a flyer distributed through out Portland regarding "Alberta Street ~ Where LIfe and Art Meet":
"Alberta Street's name was likely a tribute to England's Princess Alberta. The area was first settled by working class German, Irish, Russian, Scandinavian, Jewish and Polish immigrants who came to fill the jobs provided by the Albina rail yards in the mid 1880's. The Vanport Flood in 1948 displaced many African-Americans who had come to work in the shipyards during World War II, some moving to the Alberta Street area. It was a place where people could find affordable, single family homes. From the 1960's through the early 1990's disinvestment in the surrounding neighborhood started a spiral of decline. By the mid 1990's, new and long time residents of the neighborhood began working together to revitalize Alberta Street, now a vibrant multicultural community of people and small businesses full of creativity and talent." ¶ 5/30/2005 11:37:00 AM
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Fantastic Post! I love street fairs and the coming together of all the people. I miss them. We have them here in the South, but when I lived outside of San Francisco, that's where you see it all happen. In the South you just eat a lot and see the same ole white trash you always do!
Fascinating post! It's heartwarming to read of you bonding with your daughters during an adventure like this. I want to come with my artwork or without it!
Glad you received tips, but the most freeing part seems to be you seeing so many people relaxed, together, and different yet acceptance abounding. FTR, I think your post was sensitive, in fact, just beautiful! ( I'm of one of those minority cultures. :)
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Glad you received tips, but the most freeing part seems to be you seeing so many people relaxed, together, and different yet acceptance abounding. FTR, I think your post was sensitive, in fact, just beautiful! ( I'm of one of those minority cultures. :)
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