I had to pick up a painting from Core New Art Space. The problem is that the painting is very large - 6' x 6' and my car is very small. My car -
My car got broken into again last Friday. 35th and Brighton is not the safest neighborhood to be in, no matter what the locals at the Whacky Shack will tell you.
They broke my passenger window, took my stereo (of course), but they also took my skateboard. Of all the things to take. My skateboard? My highly customized-with-spraypaint skateboard. Well enough paint on it to pick out a 100 yards away. Pray that I never see that board again. Pray if I do that the person riding it is much smaller, and weaker and considerably well padded -
My skateboard they took, and also my skateboard pads. My skateboard pads? Who steals sweaty, old pads? Who wants to even smell my pads, let alone touch them? These pads, these pads haven't been washed in years - stolen. You get what you pay for. With my stinky pads. You will suffer.
The pads were in a beat up backpack Dhalia had given me once - a beautiful jesture by her. I once thought someone had stolen the bag - years ago. Back then, they held, well, my skateboard pads - and my favorite pair of pants: Doc Marten brand soft cotton canvas pants. They're covered with a layer of orange and blue paint now to be unwearable, but I still have them. Somewhere.
I love looking around to what these people didn't steal. I had recently saw the Alarmists at Monkey Mania. I bought a CD. And a tape. And a copy of the tape on CD. All packaged up. All new. Brand new. Wrapped up. Not taken.
I had my entire collection of spray paint in the back of the car. Right next to my backpack. Surely someone would want spraypaint. Perhaps the same kind of people who break windows of cheap cars. Nope. They stayed.
I love knowing that someone breaks my passenger window; as my driver's side window doesn't need to be broken to gain entrance. It, literally, bends enough for you to stick your hand in and unloock the door. I know. Because, I break into my car all the time.
It's not that I feel that my personal space has been violated. I. Don't. It's. That I didn't want to put more money into this car. Winter is coming. I'll need a window. I need a car that's less of a money pit and sell the one I have now to someone that's 16 for $300.
I had to pick up a painting from Core New Art Space. The problem is that the painting is very large - 6' x 6'! My idea was to drive to Core, pick up the painting, and walk it two houses to my buddy, Buddy's place and put it on his wall.
I rang the doorbell. I knocked on the door. No answer. He wasn't home.
So, I decided. I had all this negative energy to get rid of. So, I walked the painting from 9th and Santa Fe, right through downtown to 21st and Market.
It's not that the painting is heavy, it's just - well it's sort of like the sail of a boat and Sunday was windy and there was chance of rain. But what can ye dae?
What a beautiful thing to do. Walk a very large - huge painting across downtown.
I passed the last of the Santa Fe arts district.
I skirted the Auraria Campus.
I kissed the Denver Convention Center.
I walked across the 16th Street Mall - the heart of downtown.
I made people look at my painting and I. Cars slowed down, people, when passing, would always pass on the side the painting was faced. Bums made silly jokes. More people saw my painting the 45 minutes it took me to walk it home than the did the entire month it was hanging in the gallery. Different people, too.
It made me happier.
I walked the painting past the Museum of Contemporary Art. I walked it a few more blocks home and hung it back on the wall I finished the painting on a month ago.
I rested.
And then I walked back the same way and picked up my car.
