Wicker Park, Chicago, Color Today

22 05 2007

It is a breezy 85 degrees today. Sometimes when I am spending time with my baby, I like to stroll down a tree lined street and make note of the porch decorations, storefronts, outdoor cafes and the sort of people that these places attract.

In order to write one must study the way people move about, exchange polite greetings and pass time. Summer is an excellent time for this because everyone is out doing their thang.

Wicker Park was alive with cautious Black nannies, older European nannies, a handful of swell- to- do stay at home moms and artists.

My favorite artist, Marketa Sivek, from the Flat Iron building was even out. She probably doesn’t know me from Eve. I managed to say hello as she passed Earwax gliding her puffy Maltese down the avenue. She said hi and smiled but that was all.

I admire her red dress paintings. I’ll probably never get my tongue untied enough to have a decent conversation with her. Imagine that, a woman who stands around in her underwear talking to horny men all day, not being able to string more than two words together to talk about Art!

Deep in my soul, I admire that artist and wonder how much more I will need to sacrifice to accumulate that much work. Sivek seems to have so many large scale, carefully executed paintings. People don’t hesitate to spend 5,000 dollars for her work according to the crowd that her studio packs in at every Around the Coyote Art Show.

How many years does it take? I am surprised that she even has time to walk a dog- painting that much!

It may take me a week to do a painting that is 16×20 inches. When I say a week, I mean pretty much taking my meals at my painting and hardly bothering to open my mail. The last time I did an Around the Coyote Festival my home phone service got shut off and I didn’t even notice the phone not ringing!

After that quiet exchange with Marketa, I grabbed an iced green bubble tea with rose from Filter and journeyed into baby play land. A world of coos and giggles.

My past and present is inside of this child. Both my grandmothers have passed on. I’ve tried to give her my nickname that my mother’s mother gave me- but it won’t stick.

At first glance, people take me for my daughters’ nanny until I set them straight by popping a titty out. There was one 26 year old waiting to order a latte that spoke to us- said that she was engaged and couldn’t wait to have children.

She knew right away that I was the mother of the baby whose skin is like braised butter milk.

It is all about color. Light skin, brown skin, ebony, or white. People really think certain people based on their color and or job will sound this way or that way. Usually brown women make brown babies.

Well I shook that plump peach tree this afternoon and only one other woman entered into a conversation with us. She was a native of Belize. She started to chat with me because she wanted to know who does my hair. She apparently would like straight hair but doesn’t want what she has to fall out from trying to get it to swing.

I could not refer her to my blog- she would have been horrified to see me in my scarlet petticoat with a pregnant belly. So I turned to my phone, hoping that my battery had enough charge for me to retrieve the salons’ phone number.

If my hair is all that I possess to get a regular woman outside of the club to talk to me- then so it shall be.

Housewives are cliquish. My English is very proper when I speak so that’s not it. It must be my color that keeps womenfolk at bay.

That one thing about working in a club- girls are a lot easier to talk to. If you are a money maker- girls want to talk to you. They hope that you will pinch off a piece of your game so that they can learn to make money too.

So I give because I am all to friendly with having not.

At 40 my feelings still get hurt and I wonder what shall become of me if my art never squares.

So I work, write, watch, share, teach and try my best not to swear.

This part of how Mika came to be. This is the ordinary woman part. The vulnerable side that men don’t see when I stand almost as tall as they are in my stilettos.

Mika is taboo, her tan is perfect as far as being everything she should not be- having color works for her in the willow world.

See ya there


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