Category: Opinion

When Scribbles Mean Art

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scribble art 2 close up 3

Anyone who’s read a few of my posts must sense an underlying obsession with scribbled graffiti. It feels like annoying visual noise buzzing through my head when I’m out walking the dog. In my best agitated curmudgeon state it seems like a blight openly screaming that vandals have no need to consider people’s property or businesses, that it’s their right to make nasty, meaningless ribbons of paint wherever they want because no one seems to care. I’m heading into Travis Bickle territory with that last sentence, but I don’t see graffiti getting cleaned up or painted over often. It hangs around not looking like much. I can’t help but look at it, feel curmudgeonly feelings towards it and dream about living in a scribble free world. I wish the scribblers could have gotten it out of their system when they were babies. I had a flashback to a religious pamphlet a guy handed me downtown. The cover had Jesus and a group of children from many different nationalities in their native garb approaching a glowing, crystal city with a giant rainbow over it. I’m guessing there’s no graffiti in that place. I’m sure people can defend it and call it street art. I look at it and most of the time I grumble. I’m grumpy. I just paid my Arts Tax, and my household payment of 70 bucks puts a dent in my anemic budget. I would have preferred to go out with my wife and have dinner with some money left over to support an art event. I do like knowing that the money is going to hire teachers and I want to support art, but I want to complain more. Buy the kids some canvas with some of that art tax. Let them make indoor art.

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I was around mile 7 of a 9.5 mile bike commute home from a substitute teaching job. My route from Southeast Portland had me heading to Lombard Ave to hit the bike path and ride along the railroad tracks. It started raining in the afternoon and I hadn’t thought to pack rain gear. The Bison Coffee House jumped out at me like an oasis so I stopped to drink coffee and warm up. By the time I got along the railroad tracks the rain started back up. I was getting soaked and in no mood to stop. I had seen some old school multi-colored subway train graffiti on a cement underpass, but it was too hard to reach. When I saw the scribbles that made a face the part of me that wanted to check it out overpowered the part of me that wanted to get home. I’ve ranted about scribbles that make no sense to me but these scribbles captured my harried, soaked to the skin, dampened spirits. I was looking at about as much art as you can get out of a spray can. The mouth, the grimace, captured the spirit of life along the railroad tracks. It took scribbles to a whole other level. There was movement, meaning and great energy. I could overlook the vandalism aspect because I saw art and when you’re riding a bike down Lombard Ave with cars whizzing by and rain in your face a little art takes the misery out of the whole endeavor.

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The Portland Orbit editorial board wishes to make the following statement: We’re asking that David Craig acknowledge that he is not promoting vandalism and that if he wishes to continue writing about graffiti it will be for the purposes of documenting it and not promoting it or encouraging it in any way. And by documenting it he will also refrain from harping on how much it annoys him.

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Not art.

Orbit Illustration 1

Graffiti free zone.

Dumb Ass

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I got called “dumb ass” while crossing the street and I deserved it. I was crossing against the light while walking my dog. Everything looked clear and then I was between a car and a bike or the other way around. It happened fast. It was the bicyclist who called me a “dumb ass” as he peddled off down a side street. I watched him, making a mental note of his bushy beard and square plastic bucket on the side of his bike. I was so offended I wanted to chase him down the street. I knew I was wrong. I’d been in a fog, too impatient to wait for the light in the rain, over caffeinated as always with Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History Wrath of the Khans part 1 podcast blasting in my ears, and deep in thought about whatever else was going on in my life. But that crosswalk, it had been empty. I swear.

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Scene of the incident.

The idea that I could be called a dumb ass for doing anything by an ill-mannered stranger bummed me out. I was wrong. I put the ill in that ill-mannered bicyclist. Forces in the universe colluded. I was destined to experience that moment and be branded a dumb ass. In my attempt to come to grips with what transpired, I realized that I needed to be happy I was alive and had survived crossing that cross walk. I’m not sure why I was so shaken up. I took being called a dumb ass way too personally but it did occur to me that an accident could have happened. Was I supposed to come home and tell my wife, Ronna, that I almost caused a car, bike, two people, one dog pile up? I thought it would be better to make sure I didn’t do anything to make it possible for something like that to take place again. I vowed to change my serial jay walking/dog walking ways. I was determined to resist my cavalier street crossing lifestyle and wait for the signal.

My first trip to the Pacific Northwest in the early 90’s should have taught me something. Fresh out of the car, in downtown Seattle, I’m crossing the street when a police officer on foot informs me he could give me a ticket for jaywalking. He decided to be nice and let me off with a warning. I guess it could have been a lesson, but it became more of a story to break out when I want to imply that Seattle is full of overzealous cops that bust tourists for jaywalking. I can’t say I learned anything from that experience other than relying on the dumb luck of not getting a ticket or run over in a crosswalk. I feel my luck running out.

Later that afternoon, I went to Fang and Feather, the pet store in the Kenton neighborhood, to get chicken food. The people who work there are always nice. All they have to say is something like “how’s your day going” and I spill my guts. I’m blubbering about how I almost got run over by a bicyclist while walking my dog and that I got called a dumb ass. We laughed. The cashier said that kind of thing happens. He told me to be safe out there. It seemed less like a big deal.

So the lesson in all this is that if I obey the rules of the road, traffic signs etc… I can keep myself, my dog and my fellow travelers safe. There’s no other way around it. There’s no point in saying that bicyclists should not cuss. I can’t blame anyone for this incident. I caused it. I know the adrenaline surge that comes with pedaling furiously and I’ve found myself saying or at least thinking worse phrases. It’s time to start taking potential bicyclist and pedestrian crashes seriously. For the record, I’m a blogger with a heart of gold not a dumb ass. Sometimes I do dumb things.

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Max, excited again about seeing a dog friend.

February, Good Riddance

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Sitting at urgent care one December night when my wife had a health scare, I was stuck in the waiting area for three hours with only one issue of a Portland Monthly Magazine. I read it cover to cover and read it some more until I had read every word of the issue. A short blurb jumped out at me. I remember the article was about February and what a tough month it can be. I considered the thoughts of Rich Reece who had been interviewed for the piece.

He pointed out that February was not a good time to make any life changes. People get in bad moods and funks. They get the winter blahs. It had been his experience that people make bad, snap decisions this time of year.

At that point I braced myself for February. Years ago I had dropped out of college in mid winter so it was something I dwelled on. I wasn’t expecting bad things to happen but the article served as a reminder of what could happen if you don’t respect February. Reece pointed out that he wouldn’t make any serious decisions in this time of year like breaking up with someone or quitting a job without lining up another one. With that taken into account, I slogged my way through the month. Anytime I got down or felt lousy I reminded myself what month it was. I wasn’t going to quit my job, get mad at anyone or raise a ruckus at anytime. I didn’t do myself any favors by drinking too much coffee and not eating enough fruits and vegetables but I didn’t want to do much of anything else, just look for the light at the end of the tunnel which seemed to be the next month.

The odd thing was that I had told my friend Jeff Dodge about the article soon after I read it. He told me Rich Reece was someone I had just met. He had been a part of a short film I had worked on with Jeff set in the early 80’s, about a band on tour that had to do an interview with an obnoxious and abrasive AM radio DJ in Lincoln Nebraska. I could have bent his ear up and down about February, if only I had known.

Now February doesn’t seem so bad. We’ve had sunny days, not warm enough for my tastes, but sunshine nonetheless. I was reminded that last February we had ice and snow, but that doesn’t seem to happen often. And while the east coast had their blizzards, this winter has seen about three snowflakes.

I remember first moving to Portland in February seven years ago, feeling warm temperatures and fresh air despite it being damp. We had seasonal weather that year, like we always do in February. We headed to the park to throw a frisbee. We didn’t have jobs. But February has its share of gloomy, gray days. It’s as good an explanation as any for why Valentine’s Day is right smack in the middle of the month. You need flowers to look at and chocolate to make it to March. And why not make it shorter by three days most years. Let’s finish this miserable month as soon as possible.

I have yet to touch base with Rich Reece again. He might find it strange to see himself mentioned in a blog post. I found out he lives in my neighborhood so if I get the chance I’ll tell him that I think he saved my life or at the very least had me thinking up some better strategies to survive February.

Here’s a link to the article:

Scroll down to the headline that says: Get Your Head Right

https://www.pdxmonthly.com/articles/2014/12/1/50-things-every-portlander-must-do-this-winter-learn-december-2014

 

Feb gray sky

Portland Nice?!? I Can’t Take It!

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This blog post begins with a homework assignment. Read the following opinion piece before you read my reaction to it:

http://www.oregonlive.com/opinion/index.ssf/2014/09/portland_nice_has_given_way_to.html

I started to react to this as soon as I read it. It occurred to me later that as a web blogger I have the freedom to write about anything I want including opinion pieces. I shy away from this but this commentary got on my nerves. It begins with a man who could not leave two bike riders alone. He had to butt in when it was unnecessary then thought his interaction was meaningful enough to merit submission to the Oregonian. This was really not worth including in the opinion section of the Sunday paper. I’m disappointed at what real issue could have been commented on in place of this commentary. It’s inflammatory from the headline to the jumbled mix of ideas in the piece and it starts more needless, ad nauseam complaints about people who ride bicycles.

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The man was rude, deciding to tell the bikers how they should ride when there was no traffic. Then he was surprised to receive a negative reaction which inspired more discourse on how Portland isn’t as good, nice, cool as it used to be. The only thing I appreciated was the mention of the hippies who told the writer, “don’t starve man,” which could almost be as catchy a catch phrase as you’re ever going to find and it makes me miss the concept of brotherhood that I heard Haskell Wexler talking about on Democracy Now last week. To end the article with hopes of misfortune regarding the weather, “I hope we have a good old fashioned, Portland, Oregon, underwear-wetting winter” comes across as a Warlock curse that’s a bit too Travis Bickle. Let me get back to blogging about murals and homemade signs.

Additional Notes: The headline that appeared in the paper was: ‘Portland nice’ has given way to rude (expletive) cyclists. “Portland Nice” is an admirable ideal.  Agitation doesn’t have to be met with more agitation.  

Complaints about McMansions, only make me want to refer you to this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAXLlVnL72Q