About a week ago I went to the Art Crawl in downtown Nashville with some friends. It’s a cool outdoor-indoor way to enjoy the spectrum of the garish to the subtle, splashed across canvas, paper, glass, wood, iron, plaster, sticks, cloth . . . you name it . . . everything from Rorshach-ink-blot-ish abstracts in the vein of Jackson Pollock, to the realism of forested horses under the full moon. In between, teetered surreal naked people in funny positions, monks on bicycles, multicolored squares, random pigs . . . the soothing, the shocking, the lyrical, the somber, the satisfying, the political statements whizzing right past my whimsical mood . . . emoting and evoking.
The world of Art opens doors. I like the way it stretches my imagination and sprouts new ideas in my own personal, sporadic foray into splashing my own canvas.
After an evening of weaving through small galleries, gazing at colors, chiaroscuro, dressed up human muses, etc., I kept getting this funny feeling that people were staring at my butt. Not in the way, say Alicia Keys or Miley Cyrus may feel — more like the way you might feel if you had toilet paper trailing out of your pants like a giant box kite.
We had all met for pizza before strolling through the maze of colors and contours and there was one piece of pizza left over. So instead of throwing it out, I thought we could box it up and offer it to one of the many homeless people who dot downtown, like sentries on every street corner.
As we meandered between buildings, not a single homeless person was in sight. Towards the end of the evening, we spotted one! I dashed towards him with my prize pizza piece, now very cold and not very appetizing — but hey, food is food! I smiled warmly, holding out the box, “Would you like a piece of pizza?” I asked.
“No thanks. I’m full,” came the resolute response.
“Oh, um . . . ok,” I stammered. I didn’t know what to say really. So, feeling a bit dejected, I returned to our group.
“What’s the matter with this city?” I questioned as we walked back towards our cars. “Where are all the starving, homeless people?”
“What the hell’s the matter with Nashville?” a friend piped in.
“What’s the world coming to when you can’t find desperate, improverished people to give cold, leftover pizza to?” another friend conceded.
We shared a good laugh, warmed by the crazy idea that one day it might be impossible to give away cold pizza anywhere in the world. It seemed easy to imagine after swimming through a fanciful swirl of beauty and creativity and unlimited thinking.
I got home and put my hand on my butt and felt something lumpy. Then I pulled out a sock from the inside of my jeans! It was like pulling a rabbit out of a hat, only this was not the kind of magic that dazzles people or makes you look good.
Oh great, I thought, I must’ve looked like one heck of a piece of art! Oh well, Salvador Dali would’ve been proud!