I arrived just as a thousand participants were leaving. The event was listed in my email from organizers@350.org as lasting from 9:30 – 11:30 AM. I glanced at it and saw only 11:30.
The parking attendant, a teenager, didn’t know the name of the event, but he was encouraging. “You got here, that’s the main thing.” Nice kid. A kind, energetic woman confirmed that the event was over, but pointed to where I could go and sign in. I would be sent photos of the event taken from space, she said. It felt odd to be going in the opposite direction to absolutely everyone else, but I tried not to look too sheepish.
The only noticeably Hispanic I saw was the table attendant, who seemed to be well known by many in the crowd. It was a very white, overwhelmingly middle-aged crowd, with a sprinkling of youth and infants. Everyone wore jeans, and something blue or gray or muted on top. They blended in with the landscape. They had held blue-painted sheets of cardboard over their heads and undulated them from the plain cardboard side (the dry riverbed) to the blue (the flash flood). Their clothes seemed like a blend of the flood and the land.
The mail person I flagged down for directions to San Ysidro Crossing—the site of the event-- gave excellent directions. The crossing is a solid sunken road that has an arched opening underneath where water can pass through, while its sunken formation allows for water to flow over it in case of floods. Unfortunately, its construction is almost never challenged. The river bed is usually dry.
I hope to redeem myself by doing artwork on the several sheets of blue-decorated cardboard I retrieved from the great pile left behind by the participants.
The parking attendant, a teenager, didn’t know the name of the event, but he was encouraging. “You got here, that’s the main thing.” Nice kid. A kind, energetic woman confirmed that the event was over, but pointed to where I could go and sign in. I would be sent photos of the event taken from space, she said. It felt odd to be going in the opposite direction to absolutely everyone else, but I tried not to look too sheepish.
The only noticeably Hispanic I saw was the table attendant, who seemed to be well known by many in the crowd. It was a very white, overwhelmingly middle-aged crowd, with a sprinkling of youth and infants. Everyone wore jeans, and something blue or gray or muted on top. They blended in with the landscape. They had held blue-painted sheets of cardboard over their heads and undulated them from the plain cardboard side (the dry riverbed) to the blue (the flash flood). Their clothes seemed like a blend of the flood and the land.
The mail person I flagged down for directions to San Ysidro Crossing—the site of the event-- gave excellent directions. The crossing is a solid sunken road that has an arched opening underneath where water can pass through, while its sunken formation allows for water to flow over it in case of floods. Unfortunately, its construction is almost never challenged. The river bed is usually dry.
I hope to redeem myself by doing artwork on the several sheets of blue-decorated cardboard I retrieved from the great pile left behind by the participants.
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3 comments:
Went out to see the photos. I think their site is down at the moment...maybe too much activity. That would be good. I love the idea of global art. Thanks for keeping us posted!
Hey Trevor, sounds like a fun project! It would be wonderful, don't you think, to organize works of art that involved so many people. Enjoy the blue cardboard! Do you ever post pictures of what you are working on? It would be nice to see.
Thanks, Krista. John and Marty bemoaned the fact that it didn't snake up to where they live--miles, HUGE.
We're thinking along the exact same lines. See, too, my today's blog. I'll soon email you a possible, related grant project. Ya never know.
My confounded technical ignorance prevents me from manipulating pictures. I'm currently begging Debbie (and John) for help, and hope to pin down the process for good.
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