They liked my idea so I spent the weekend on a scaffold in the 90 degree heat with a metal straight edge, tape, and yogurt cups filled with acrylic paint.
Some things I remember from the scaffold place-on-high which is apparently an invisible realm to many people:
- The old man (older than me) from the musical instrument store takes a smoke break every hour. I worried about him. (Also, he should refrain from scratching his hiney while standing on the sidewalk).
- Grandmas are the most forthcoming regarding their advice and critical judgment regarding awning painting.
- Most women are very graceful and even unconscious at adjusting their neckline while passing beneath a scaffold. Those who didn't however, were always chattering on their phone.
- Gross generalization: Boys with skateboards have a chip on their shoulder.
- Who is the role model for the Floral Print/Hawaiian/Jimmy Buffett shirt wearing class of gentlemen and are they in cahoots with the iZod-and-collar-up faction?
- I wish I could speak Spanish.
- Car alarms. . . in Ashland. . . downtown and mid-day. Really?
- Acoustics of a village block are fascinating. Sounds bounce with a parabolic focus from locations that would normally seem improbable. That is to say, be careful what you say while walking down the street in a small town.
- The loudest diesel pick-up trucks are always white.
- I love the idea that there are so many cars fueled by discarded cooking oil in our town but the consequential aroma is something I could live without.
- Nobody should think that patchouli is better than B.O.
- Does Harley Davidson really have a copyright on that "lookatme, lookatme, lookatme" farting sound? Do the biggest donkeys really bray the loudest?
- Window displays are more important than I realized.
- My understanding of what an "artist" does, isn't the same as most people.