San Antonio Screever Hits the Sanford Florida Pavement

 After a year and seven month long break, I'm back. People are friendly at the Downtown Sanford Farmer's Market. The day started out a hazy grey, and eventually warmed into the nicest morning. The market is seven to ten times smaller than the Pearl, and I thought the Pearl was small. I admit, I missed cinnamon in my coffee, concha rolls and chocolate filled pastries. Is that why I only lasted three hours?

Well, sort of. After emailing the market's coordinator, a super hip chick named Michelle, we decided I could work on paper until we heard something from the city. And eventually, the paper tore. There's only so much abuse and chalk it can absorb.

 After I set up and discussed areas with Michelle, we joked that if anyone objected in the future to on pavement work, we could just grab a pail or two of water and pretend nothing ever happened. I hope it never comes to that. Sanford is really making moves to be more of an "art friendly" place according to locals.

I'm looking forward to future projects very soon.

Don't mess with the Spurs

Well, I learned how to say "don't mess with the Spurs" in Spanish today, but promptly forgot, and attempts on translation sites haven't produced the on the street, on that T-shirt phrase. Help please if anyone knows it, I'm slow!

The pose and picture was based off the Sports Illustrated cover. I thought it was cool that they broke the "jinx"! My fellow San Antonians are unbridled in Spurs enthusiasm. At several points, I felt a little trampled by picture taking onlookers- there was no place to step aside!  I'm crossing my fingers and saying my prayers for tomorrow night.

St Michael Part 2

Mitch looked like he was having a seizure at 400 AM when the alarm went off. It turns out, he was just guarding the favorite ball from Shadow.
I was late at the market for observing him, and even worse, I decided to paint on the spot without a reference . I didn't like the views at the market- from my perspective, it's all about people's butts.
So I decided to give St Michael a try from memory. I need to work and study more on that.

50 cents an hour

It was - a night. Four hours on a Raphaello chalking, until it got too dark to work. I was near a lovely eatery with gracious staff- and oblivious patrons. It was hard to feel such a heavy wall of indifference, but I kept telling myself, every work I do gains me experience. Every work I do makes me better. And at the end of the day- it is work I can truly offer up to God.

Mother's Day Tribute

Mary Cassatt, Mother and Child.
On a side note- how do I know I'm finished with a work? 1) Tingling extremities. 2) Dizziness or lightheadedness. 3) Shadow paws me. 4)The copy I'm working off of is so smooshed by gravel, and chalked on, that I can't tell it from the street piece. 5) My hair is so "volumized" from chalk debris, it stands up on its own accord.
Love you mom- your painting comes tomorrow!

How did Christ survive the storm?

That downpour at the end of yesterday's Fiesta Flambeau parade was torrential.
The chalking of Christ carrying his cross is now a lovely, faint echo of its' former self.
The purple robe looks like a well designed oil slick. His eyes still gently look up to you. If you visit the Pearl today for a jog, a meal or mojito, could you see it?
I certainly can.
The two week old chalk painting of the Virgin is very much erased, but some blue from her mantle is still there- looking like a silly snake drawn by a toddler.
You won't catch me complaining about the rain though. My experience is that the best response to rain in Texas is, "thank you Lord, bless our farmers."

Jesus Carries the Cross, and El Greco Started as a Chalk Street Artist