An evening stroll

Last night, Franklin and I enjoyed a luxurious stroll together through Jacksonville’s Art Walk.  We noted that the show wasn’t nearly as populated with lookie-loos as there have been in the past.  It wasn’t freezing last night – I didn’t even have to wear layers.  It was amusing to see the number of individuals with long sleeves, sweaters, jackets and a scarf to complete their ensemble.  Perhaps they were like-minded wishful thinkers … if they dress, the cold will come. 

The night was brisk, and I personally enjoyed the extra space on the sidewalks as well as the extra elbow room to more comfortably look at what the artists brought with them.  It made for nice sipping weather, too, as we broke down to buy apple cider at the Starbucks. 

I was surprised, as I’m not normally warm to the art that’s brought forward in these types of events, to find that there was actually a huge divide between the good and the why did they bring this artists.   I don’t often recognize a divide at all, being unimpressed with what I see as forced art and ego.  It was enjoyable to speak with the artists if I so chose (the extra elbow room also afforded more interaction).   There was one artist whom I wouldn’t have minded speaking…but she spent a full 25 minutes chatting it up with the same individual who had already purchased, art in hand, one of her pieces.  I’m smiling though, because I’m sure it was exciting.  Her bio mentioned that she’s returning after a decade of putting aside the paint brush.  Her paintings were this familiar look of American patched quilts, Brazilian sensibilities and grade-school textbook art that I recall.   There were a few pieces which had errors – which will eventually destroy the picture itself, but the tone of the colors, and the dizzying aerial views were a fantastic recalling of something in my past.

There was an installation art – which I generally write off immediately – that just was claustrophobic…apparently that was the point…it was a spiraling in neon covered [dead] nature wedged within black walls…Franklin said that at the center you were brought into a green room (live plants, oasis)…but I wouldn’t have known it as I exited the building.  Crammed in there with individuals equally as technotronic as the highlighter colored confetti on the floor…well, it was too much. 

While Franklin opted not to listen to any of the musicians, I will admit that I’m warming to one group that has been there every month.  There’s always a crowd around them (thanks to the business they set up in front which serves beer, LOL)…even with the lite attendance last night, they still drew a size-able crowd.   We recognized a couple of artists with whom Franklin was familiar – and with one he managed to establish a connection for a future show (this fellow I don’t think is so much an artist as someone who hosts artists, though he does dabble…but I could be wrong).  

In the middle of our walk we ended up in the main park complete with craftsman, entertainers and a Afro-Brazilian martial arts demonstration.  The last captured Franklin and enabled him to throw a mini-lecture to me on the pros and cons, as well as the history of the movement.  It is actually an interesting story.   The demonstrators were pretty smart to include music fitting to the style.