2019 ChalkFest Marietta Georgia

TAKE IT TO THE STREETS

Sidewalk chalk takes over Marietta Square

Dap Tales and I have a daughter.  We call her The Bean, ‘cuz when she was born, that’s all she was; a tiny little bean, wrapped in a swaddling blanket in our arms.  She has her mother’s radiant smile and shimmering eyes.  Lingering there, behind that bright countenance, was a world full of curious questions and big ideas.  Even when she was little, the ideas were big, super-sized in fact.  Case-in-point:  Barely old enough to have started drawing, her mind would float from idea to idea like a butterfly from flower to flower, and her hand, from surface to surface, until her tags were everywhere; multiplying like locusts throughout our home. 

I know, every kid eventually earns their stint in solidarity for drawing on the walls, but this kid; the level or immediacy of the punishment couldn’t dam the flow; redundancy of punishment was a wasted effort.  It soon became evident that we were dealing with a brain experiencing ideas that simply were too big to fit on any page.  It seemed the way the world was around her, immersive and encompassing, so it was with her interior world as well.  Ideas were everywhere and when she wanted to express them, that’s how they appeared, from her big little brain onto our walls.  Then… it came into our lives; the magic that is Sidewalk Chalk.  Genius!  Finally, a medium that could match the size of our Beanie’s big dreams and didn’t require a home remodel afterwards.  So, you could say we have a personal connection with “street art” of this nature.  It was from this perspective that we planned a family day excursion to Marietta Square to witness artists, from Georgia and afar, dressing up the asphalt with splashes and dashes of colorful chalk creations of all kinds.

The entire event was a two day affair, with artists setting up and drawing all day Saturday, finishing and presenting to a panel of judges Sunday.  We went Saturday, so saw the works of art in their early stages.  Even at that stage of the game, there were some truly impressive things to see:  Concepts ranging from the realistic to the whimsical and art styles as varied as the artists themselves.

  

There was everything from art deco and graphic styles, to lush realistic portraits to glowing fantasy mélanges.  With techniques featuring striking sharp contrasts in edgy designs and soft, blended hues and shading bringing human faces richly to life.  And this smorgasbord was while the pieces themselves were still mostly incomplete. 

We stopped in at an ice cream shop there on the Square for some refreshment, which did not disappoint, and found some chairs out on the sidewalk to chill.  A live band started cranking out hits from the seventies, the sound rebounding throughout the Square over our heads and those of milling spectators.

Band: Brother Whitlock. They sang some Southern Rock Hits. (Photo)

We strolled.  Just in front of the bandstand was a park, littered with rambling, chattering children.  DAP and I perched atop a brick wall and watched Beanie frolic among the laughing throng of kids as the music played, until it was time to get outta Dodge.  We were not able to return Sunday for the finished works and the judgment of awards but we still had the chance to be wowed, as we invariably are, by the craft and dexterity of brilliant minds expressing the ideas that just won’t stay confined within the walls of their brains.

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About al-Falaq (a.k.a. Phil Bates):
al-Falaq is a writer and illustrator living in Atlanta, Georgia. He loves cats and shares his home with an ornery fur ball with nine tales, at least!  His collection of poetry and short stories, Threadbare is available on Amazon. al-Falaq is also our resident blogger for our RGN on Location Blog.

The RGN visit the Black dolls and other artist event at the Omenala Griot Museum

Omenala Griot Afrocentric Museum & Event Center

Black Dolls, Black Art, Black Healthy Stuff & More…

Marketplace and Outreach at Omenala Griot Afrocentric Museum

A day is not formed, until it is lived.  Sometimes you’ve got to separate yourself from your notion of a day, unformed as it is, in favor of what is being offered to you, and let the day form itself while you, having bought the ticket, faithfully take the ride.  This kind of happened to me on the beautiful Saturday of September 8.  The Georgia Nutts Guild, consisting of our founder, DAP Tales, myself (alFalaq), Mia Maine and Yvonne Walker were booked to do some vending and outreach at the Black Dolls, Black Art, Black Healthy Stuff & More Marketplace being held at Omenala Griot Afrocentric Museum in west Atlanta.  Knowing that I would need to be ready to work all Saturday night, there was a part of me devoted to the idea of chilling at home in my jammies and having a nap; at least that could have been hatched as the plan, or like I mentioned before, my notion of the day.  I considered making a case out of it.  But it was early and the day was not yet formed, you see; just my notion of it.  And that’s how easy it would have been to miss out on, what turned out to be, one of the nicest Saturday afternoons of the whole summer.

We got to the place amid a bustle of vendors setting about getting their tables and wares in order, and proceeded to do the same.  Old School soul music was bobbing along through the air around us:  Maze andFrankie Beverly, Earth, Wind & Fire, Prince.  Bright sounds like traces of the late morning sun following us into the warmly welcoming interior of the museum space.  

Flags of African nations quilted together were hung in one area of the ceiling like a parlor canopy.  

Various ritual masks and carvings stared out tacitly from their homes adorning wall spaces and corners, observing the action noncommittally.  

A separate room lined with shelves of books pertinent to African and African American history and the diaspora housed a chair basking in the glow of sun-soaked windows, lacking only a reader to fulfill its promise of shared knowledge. 

Backed by a brightly painted, thematic mural, an empty storyteller’s stage issued its silent address to a waiting array of folding chairs.  People chattered and muttered busily around their tables.  Lisa Stansfield was bemoaning her love, which she still hadn’t found, despite having been all around the world.

We were just finishing our table setup but already I was feeling a homey vibe about this place.  Something about it just felt like it was a good time to be there; I decided to wander about and mingle a little in what I would soon come to regard as a garden of talents and tastes, with some true gems tucked away among its varied offerings. 

At the GNG table, DAP’s clear bell of a voice and glimmering smile were introducing people to the concept of our writer’s guild.  At least, that’s when people were around… more on that in a minute.  

Displaying each of their own lines of uniquely crafted, hand-made jewelry, Yvonne Walker’sArtistic Kitten and Mia Maine’s Elegantly Twisted labels adorned that mesa as well.  Other vendors, like PaparazziAccessories and Tiana’s Jewels, had partnered with wholesalers as a point of sale retailing operation of their own. 

Each table had a mother and daughter tag team, not just businesses for the moms but setting the stage for the young ladies, as well.

Making my circuit, there were a few gravitational hot spots for me; one of the first was House of Enchantment.  

This vending station was swaddled in an invisible cloud of aromatic diffusion.  The brisk, refreshing scent was emanating from one of the many hand-made candles on display.  Natural crystals, chakra balancing kits and smudging sage were also available. 

I couldn’t help being drawn in also, due to their beautiful designs and craftsmanship, to the hand-sewn dolls of Paddlefoot Dolls andCrafts.  

The dolls’ tiny clothes were all so well made, but here’s the thing:  the dolls themselves, though all representative of African American lineage, displayed a wide diversity of complexions and hair styles.  In some ways, Paddlefoot’s doll collection is a quiet comment on the diaspora as can be seen today in the community, which is one of the central themes of the Omenala Griot museum itself and one of its essential educational ideals.  I thought for a second how easily the issues of the present day can gloss over our days past, if the conversation is not kept alive, which I think is part of the whole reason for this beautiful museum.

There was so much more to see, but it would be remiss of me to mentally walk us out of the vending space without calling out one of the true gems of the day:  the young gentleman at the table next to us, Anthony Badila. 

He was selling small charms he had made by hand, sculpting them in clay, then molding them in a plastic or ceramic.  Food items, like donuts or slices of cake, transformed into friendly characters by the addition of happy little faces.  Prototype dolls he had designed and sculpted and was seeking to bring to market ready production, were on display.  All African American, but all different, the fine quality of them was obvious and marked this young man as a real talent in development.

I spoke with Gina-Rey, from New York on my way outside; there was no way around it, actually; she had populated the entire patio with her lovely crocheted apparel items. 

She was a bright, fun personality, who had come along way.  A lot of the vendors had, in fact.  There were folks from NY, Florida, even from waaaaay over in California, here to vend.  This is what they do. 

Unfortunately, the ratio of vendors to customers was far out of proportion.  I don’t know the full extent of the promotion for this event, but it seemed such a shame to have so few customers for these business operators and so few visitors to this fantastic cultural center.  

I haven’t even taken you outside with me yet, into the wonderful vegetable garden cultivated alongside the museum. 

Or to the outdoor storytelling space, with its carved tree stumps surrounding the old oak trunk, where I planted myself on a bench in the early afternoon sun and smelled the vines all around me and heard the whisper of the breeze-blown leaves above. 

I considered my feelings about this place, with which I had kind of fallen in love, as I made my way back through the tomatoes, peppers, melons and flowers planted in rows and down into the grassy parking area.  

I stopped to shoot a couple of photos of the giant Kwanzaa kinara there, seven street lamps dressed as candles, painted in the traditional red, black and green.  

I imagined them lighting in the evenings, one by one, in the days after Christmas.  I felt a sort of gratitude as I left, that good fortune had allowed us to stumble onto this gem, hidden away in a west Atlanta neighborhood.  And an accompanying sense of surprise when I discovered it wasn’t the only one.  I saw from banners around the area that this community is called AshviewHeights.  

It seems they’ve got a lot going on, progressively speaking.  Not only is it the home of the Omenala Griot Museum, just up the street is the Truly Living Well Collegetown Farm Center for Natural Urban Agriculture. 

I ran into this place just as a fluke while leaving the neighborhood.  It’s a huge space, growing just about everything; vegetables, fruit trees and decorative flora. 

There is a play area for children inside.  They conduct community outreach and educational programs on urban farming and self-subsistence. 

A broad space, full of sun and nature and fresh growing natural foods right there, in the middle of the city.  And I had no idea.

See?  Sometimes you just gotta go with it.  You never know which day is just ready and waiting to blossom into something special.  You might have plans, or notions but when life extends the invitation, leave your jammies behind and say “Yes”.