Breaking out the Small Screens
Breaking out the small screens
My challenge is to be mobile. It is to be able to set-up fast and to breakdown fast to move on to the next spot. There is a lot of territory to cover in the loop to explore all the small rectangles or even triangles of space where an artist, like myself, is able to display and print without hindering the traffic flow at all. I can fit into a 2 foot by 3 foot rectangle and smaller if required. So, I made the smallest frame that would hold a patch image to avoid carrying more than my leather bag and still being able to setup to print with all my bells and whistles like fliers, press releases, pins and startup patches ready.
I took the Purple Line downtown. At the “Library” stop I stepped to the street looking for a good location. I seek out places where other First Amendment protected activity is going on. Wherever the free newspaper and magazine boxes are located is a great place for me to locate. In fact – the times that the City has gone to court with the publishers of these publications are a valuable resource of case law for us to examine as we develop our case for artist scenes in Chicago.
I passed a lady shaking a cup and a man selling Streetwise newspapers. Both these groups, pan-handlers and Streetwise salespersons had won their speech rights in the Loop through court action. These cases should be part of our future research. They point our way to freedom.
Once I printed at an out-of-the-way spot next to magazine boxes where a particularly aggressive pan-handler irritated the public by standing on the corner directly in the flow of traffic as it stepped from the street. Even though I was giving my art away, I was the person the cop who passed threatened. That day my camera’s light sensing chip gave out. It was two months before I could afford another camera and again document my activities.
The money the City charges us for a license to sell our speech is a tax and a burden that many citizens, like myself, cannot afford without losing my speech rights for a period of time. When I had a peddlers license, it expired because I didn’t have the money in my hand for it. I went three months before trying to renew it. When I did - they wanted me to pay for the three months I went with out a peddlers license. It is an unjust barrier to speech in my humble opinion.
I selected another spot next to magazine boxes in front of the Adams Street entrance to De Paul University. It only took me seven minutes to set-up before I began printing. This was the first time I used a small screen and the first time to print one of my new series entitled “Yes We Can.” So far I have six “Yes We Can” designs. The public seemed largely indifferent on this day. I printed without much contact with the passersby until an elderly lady stopped by to talk and to ask about the technique I was using.
I told her about screen-printing, about our free screen print workshop for artists and I gave her a patch. It was the “Yes We Can – change the mindset that starts mindless wars” patch. She liked that patch and began to tell me about her daughter who was very creative. She should come to our workshop , I told her. Then I explained why I was giving my patch art away free. I said I was not free to sell my patches because the City of Chicago misused their need to control traffic to pass a peddlers license law that prevents me from selling my speech (art) at this location. “My proof,” I told her, “is that we are not inhibiting traffic at this moment. Do you see a traffic problem?” She shook her head smiling at the obvious evidence.
A second lady watching from across the sidewalk stepped closer with curiosity. I offered her a patch. She accepted it and examined it with an intelligent eye for detail. “This is free?” she asked. When I told her it was she said that I would be rewarded three times over for my work. “You are doing God’s work,” she said. The three of us talked and I explained to her that our goal to create art scenes where artists from all of Chicago’s communities could sell their work and survive by this. Art scenes where musicians and poets and visual artists, performing artists and culture creators could meet the public and all could build an audience. She agreed that all Chicago would be the benefit of this art activity.
My enthusiasm infected her and she let out that she had just received her diploma today from DePaul in Sociology. “I am 52,” she bragged. “And I am very happy to have achieved this goal of mine.”
“Ahh, so you understand the importance of art scenes to the social structure of Chicago, as an economic engine and as a quality of life enhancement,” I noted. She nodded modestly. Our conversation ended after a while but not before she repeated for a last time that I would be rewarded three times over for doing “God’s work.” I thanked each of them for showing interest while others had rushed by unseeing.
When they had gone I piled up the patches I had printed and passed out half of them to passersby. Most people brushed by without looking. As usual, however, those who accepted them did not throw them on the ground within my sight. This is the difference between my patches and most of the literature passed out downtown. Watch those who accept ad-literature. A few moments later many realize they do not want to carry it around all day and many drop them by the way. My work and my looks do polarize people. This is good because when I meet someone – even just to hand them a patch – they are primed to think about what I have handed them. They do and few throw my patches down. They take them home and tell someone about where they got it. I have no idea how many of my patches are being used. They are each like a bottle with a note on it being thrown into the sea that is humanity.
I packed up when the last patch left my hand to some accepting person. Maybe there are better places to proclaim artists’ rights then in front of a business school, I thought. My path took me to Wabash Avenue. Several blocks north I found a spot out of traffic by a corner next to a lamp post and a trash can. I was visible to a flow of people walking e-west and north-south yet out of their paths. After a while of printing a college age man stopped by to ask what I was doing. I gave him my speech. He admitted that he really just wanted directions to an all-night coffee house where he could cozy up until 2am. Then he would meet a friend of his who was working an evening shift downtown. He had come down from Grand Rapids Michigan for work-related training and stayed on to attend a wedding of friend. We got to talking and he started to give me advice of what I should do to get media attention.
“Ahh, the media in this town do not want to support street artists rights against their status-quo partners,” I claimed, issuing an overly broad judgment.
He jumped on that claiming I needed to be more creative and create the kind of excitement that the media loves. That made sense to me so I conceded the point and parried with another. “There are organizations that should be helping to represent artists on this issue that are dragging their feet and I believe it is because they get funds and favors from the City.“ He did not argue the point. He argued the proof of the point.
“How do you prove intent?” he asked. Again, he had me. We talked for forty-five minutes while I printed patches. When I explained I had a 7:00 appointment with a member of the press who would be speaking at a meeting hosted by the Open University of the Left, we parted ways. Before we did, he signed our petition. Thanks man.