Musings from the Woodland Arts Fair
By Matt Sullivan
The food stands seemed pushed off to the side, like the losers the cool kids didn’t want around. The smell of hot grease and sugar, and the overwhelming sun overhead, gave the whole area a carnival feel, a feeling not in tune with rest of the art fair in Woodland Park. Passing through the outskirts of the fair had me dodging old men and unaccompanied children. Jewelry stands and booths with paintings and photographs, metal fused with glass, wooden rocking chairs, and soaps created alley ways, twisting every which way, revealing more and more booths, until you came to dead ends created by SUVs and vans. A chiropractor’s tent and a local foods advocacy group had also set up tents. Wondering around, I also saw booths and tents with sculptures made of stone and possibly soap. Everyone was milling around, glancing at items and half smiling, like they thought they were supposed to appreciate everything there. I didn’t see anyone buy anything, but I’m sure someone did.
Of all the booths, the one that seemed most out of place was the chiropractor’s booth. His booth was offering only a service, whereas the others offered creations. I spoke to a lady in front of the tent who told me her neck had a twenty-two degree curve. She pointed to some pictures behind her of two x-rays of a skull and neck bones, seen from their profile. In one photo the neck was curved, making an S shape from the tip of the skull to the spine. In the other, the spine was straight. She asked me to point out which of the two x-rays a person’s spine should look like. I pointed at the curved one, obviously, because she was trying to trick me. I’m not stupid. Sorry nice lady who withstood the heat for hours explaining proper spine care to people. You can’t fool me.
After I passed the test and filled out an information card, the actual chiropractor took me behind his tent to administer more tests. He asked me to stand up straight and to look straight ahead. He found that my right hip is higher than my left one. That my left ear is higher than the right one because I tilt my head, and that I twist my pelvis, it favoring my right side, I believe. These were all terrible things. I remembered from the nice girl out front that a messed up spine leads to kidney problems or something. However, for a small fee of only a few hundred dollars, I could have my bone problems solved. Unfortunately, I don’t have hundreds of dollars for a man to mash my bones around with his meaty hands. I’d have to die content with a twisted skeleton.
The problem with the booth, though, was not the uneven ground I was tested on, but that it only offered a service. The fair was filled with booths holding objects people made themselves and this particular one seemed like a speed bump as I perused their wares. The service was a fine one. I’m sure somebody has been helped by chiropractics. However, this service, this empty gesture, didn’t belong at the fair.
Surrounding me were creations, the thoughts, emotions, and ideas people had about the world around them. These objects were significant because they weren’t simple pieces of aesthetic beauty. They were not manufactured pieces, rolling off of an assembly line. As a society, we don’t create art the way we should, or as is our duty. The people selling those items spent time, deliberately creating jewelry or soaps or pieces of art in such a way as to make us think or feel something. The feelings could have been as simple as joy at seeing something pretty, but even those items have a greater value than an ephemeral service like chiropractics.
Create something of value
As a person who enjoys reading, or admiring paintings, as a consumer of the arts or literature, you have a responsibility to give back through those same mediums. You have this responsibility because you must pay for what you’ve received. Art and literature are important because through them creators are able to express an idea, a thought, a perception of the world around them. Especially with literature, these expressions can be mind altering. These things can enlighten you and enrich the life you live and that can’t be taken for granted. Artists lose hours, days, months, putting things together in a way that offers the viewer or reader a different perspective on the world (or, perhaps, an affirming one).
If you do not give back, then you are a thief. You’ve stolen knowledge and determination, sorrow and joy, melancholy and hope. You might argue that you’ve no talent to create things like Shakespeare, or DaVinci, or even those people selling their items at the fair, but that is a poor excuse for not trying. People have more creativity than they give themselves credit for. Sit down and write, seriously write. Buy some art supplies and paint, make a serious attempt and see if you don’t create something of value. You must remember that these pieces are meant to be seen by others. Speak through your art and your art will come to life. When people complain that they have no talent and then attempt to make something, they make dead things. Blobs of color or mounds of clay that say nothing, make you feel nothing, these mediocre attempts will only discourage you from discovering something you’re good at.
We live in a culture that says everyone has a voice, but not everyone is speaking. It is vitally important that people speak their minds, articulately. Words can’t simply fall out of your mouth; you’ve got to have a message. When you create something you give your words a magnifying glass that exposes and enhances your message. Your words become legitimate because you took time to form them. Form them and pay your dues for all that you’ve received. Don’t be a bone masher when you can be a creator.
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