Our apartment complex has been doing a few projects so that they could become commercially viable again. The economy has killed almost everyone even the apartment business. It has been so bad that many of the rents are getting relief from HUD.
One of the projects has been the dog park. This is one of the few apartment complexes that allows pets, especially dogs. The dog park project started last year when the apartment manager finally succeeded in cleaning up some of the dumped landfill (the city was using it to dump), and put in fencing. Now the manager is trying to get it ready for a grand opening.
Part of the dog park was the art work on the walls. The walls are about six feet tall and stuccoed. The manager had talked to an artist about putting some graphic like pictures on the walls– you know dogs, cats, bunnies, flowers. The artist looked at the “canvas” and decided that the walls (there is a lot of them) needed to be painted black cause you can’t paint on stucco. Plus it would cost the complex one thousand dollars for the first undercoating of his masterpiece.
The manager politely said, no. One of her maintenance guys does drawings– which are not in the same league as the artist, but are more on the craft side.
So yesterday her painter dragged me down to see the pictures he had started. He used stencils that he cut himself. I was impressed. No, it wasn’t a work of art– and there were sunflowers, bees, dragonflies, dogs, and other flowers. I will have to take pictures one of these days. I’ll tell him that he needs to sign it — because some day some one will want to know who the artist was.
So I was thinking about how high art isn’t good for a dog park– I used to write high art poetry. I have some pieces that I published before I became ill that are really really really good. My stories are not high art. Now I write poetry that is about daily life. I write stories that make sense to me. I hope someone somewhere can enjoy them too like I enjoy the sunflowers by an unknown painter, where dogs gambol.