Anti-Art Fair

I hate the heat of late July. I wilt in it. It makes me cross and hurts my stomach.

Yet every year we walk out into the sauna that is the 3rd week of July to hit the Ann Arbor Art Fair.

We don’t really like the art. There are a few artists that we get excited about– the guy that made our can-can-dancing-ladies hooks… the jewish painter whose work hangs on the wall of the people down the street… the guy that does etchings of the vanishing old ballparks. So, while we make sure we never miss an Art Fair, it has nothing to do with the art– it’s all about the counter culture around the art. It’s the sidewalk sale at my favorite skirt store, the music, and Freak Row.

Freak Row is the non-profit block of booths. The Greyhound Rescue people, the Nudists, the Hare Krishnas, the little Chinese man that will write out your name, the A2 Polo Team that sells water… The juxtaposition of the booths can be delightful– this year was no exception with the Islamic information booth– with the two, traditionally covered girls sitting smack dab across the aisle from the Michigan Nudists with only towels around their waists.

Robby and I have seen Jesus every year at the Art Fair– or at least some guy(s) that look like the old 1950s version of him– long, wavy brown hair and beard and leather sandals– oh! and one year he was actually in a toga! We’re always delighted to see him. Usually he’s over by the food court near the Union– which leads us to believe that Jesus is, perhaps, fond of the homemade chips or shaved ice treats.

This year we took our pal Chris. He’s new to the area and so this was his first A2AF. The heat this year was particularly brutal– a good first visit experience. Of course, we never go during the day– we go as it’s winding down in the evening. The day is too filled with groups of women carrying whatever long and poking thing is being sold for gardens in a given year. 15,000 over-heated women carrying long poking things is not a good way to experience the Art Fair. We spared Chris that.

And we skipped on the Fair Food. It’s too hot to eat it… we went to our favorite sushi place where Chris mocked me for not actually eating anything raw and oceanic. (Bring me a little hotplate and a skillet and I’ll eat your damned sashimi… until then, I’m quite happy with my miso soup and tempura rolls. So back off.)

Out in the heat we passed Freak Row a few times– We introduced Chris to the fun!fun! concept of signing up people for various newsletters/email lists. (“So and so might enjoy learning about the Log Cabin Republicans!” “X will relish their new immersion in the world of the House of Light.”) Chris liked the nudists. He liked their enthusiasm for nakedity. He had some concerns, however, about their appearance. Not all body parts are equal and some, frankly, shouldn’t necessarily be shared with the world. I found the laminated photo of a happy nudist couple watching the football a little disturbing– the wife sat in her Packer sweatshirt and jeans with her completely naked husband next to her holding his beer with a bowl of chips between them. (“No.” I immediately said to Robby.)

Search though we did we could not find Jesus. This was disappointing– we felt as though we’d let Chris down. His first art fair and no sign of the messiah. Dang. Chris conjured up another little Biblical miracle for us– and a whole new Art Fair Game: Parting the Seas! Assume an expression of complete non-eye-contact (I went for “innocence” but the boys seem to enjoy “looking off into the distance with great concentration”) and walk through the crowd seperating as many couples/groups as you can. Handholding couples are the trickiest. Strollers are dangerous. Behind Chris Robby and I were laughing so hard it hurt at the wake of disoriented people in his wake.

Not quite finding Jesus but right up there.