My 1994 Daily Curmudgeon Calendar, about to run out with no sign of its replacement in the mail -- hint, hint -- offers for this week the following comment from comedian Elayne Boosler: "You never see a man walking down the street with a woman who has a little pot belly and a bald spot." I'd say Boosler never saw Baltimore by day.
To the wall, with love
The painting of big murals on city walls goes back at least to A.D. 1975, the Schaeferzoic period. The idea was to dress up a shabby city neighborhood with splashes of color, subsidize some starving artists and give the mayor a reason to cut a ribbon and say, "This is a great day for the city of Bawlmer!" Despite that, there are some terrific murals around town -- the chess players on Edmondson Avenue at Franklin is my favorite -- and a few duds. There's one on Gay Street that looks like a Maryland Institute undergrad project on steroids -- a giant Cro-Magnon silhouette pointing to a living room chair. Last time I saw it, the mural was fading, and no one seemed anxious to restore it. Since 1987, when Mayor Schmoke launched a new and more ambitious program, more than 20 artists have painted murals on the sides of buildings and along concrete walls, and the general quality is good to excellent. John Ellsberry's 28th Street gators .. might be the most remarkable of the post-Schaeferzoic era.
Six new murals were recently dedicated and, from what I've seen, they are each worth a drive-by. If you're doing such in the city this holiday season, I suggest a two-fer: Christmas lights and new nurals.
Since the leaves have fallen, you can finally see Charles Lawrence's work at 1617 N. Calvert. It's sort of a "pride of the Chesapeake" illustration, with lots of fish and fowl. There's a superb "photo album" piece on a concrete bridge at 1200 North Mount, where Lyle Kissack, Gerald Ross and six local kids captured photographic impressions of neighborhood people; the paintings that line the bridge look like blowups of Polaroids. It's nicely done. Ellsberry is back with two: A 1860s steam locomotive at 910 W. Pratt, across from the B&O; Museum, and a 1930s engine at 905 Lemmon, about a block away.
Promoters of the mural program like to say the neighborhoods rally around the artists with encouragement as they transform dull, graffiti-marred walls into works of art. That sounds like huckster hooey, but apparently it's true. I've heard it from the artists themselves. Even Mary Carfagno Ferguson, who painted a trompe l'oeil of a garden wall and gate along a stuccoed cinderblock barricade at East Pratt and Washington, had her pessimistic outlook on "community art projects" badly shaken over the summer. And, though a city resident, she came away from the mural with renewed appreciation of what life in the city can be.
"I have gone from being worried that my paints and brushes would be stolen to looking forward to seeing 'the regulars' who stop to talk each day," she noted, as her project neared completion this fall. "I know their personal, family and even medical histories. I have seen how a mural and the process of painting create a common ground on which people can meet, unguarded. Conversations start between strangers. People swear to defend the wall against graffiti, and even potential graffiti artists express admiration. Local children want to help, they show me their drawings. A neighborhood couple has given me keys to their home so I can wash up and come in out of the sun. Bus drivers, truck drivers and ladies from Bel Air stop and talk about the wall, the neighborhood, the local history, their lives. . . . My experience [was] therapy for those who have lost their appreciation for city life."
One punch at a time
I've got some followup on Wednesday's column.
Remember the story about the fellow who punched the wrong man in the face on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard? He called. His name is Reg. That's all he said, then hung up. Didn't leave a call-back number.
Interestingly, it turns out that Reg didn't write the fess-up letter I quoted in this space. A young woman who witnessed the incident did. She submitted the note to help set the record straight because it's been bothering her since it happened. Readers will recall that, one evening in 1992, there was an argument on MLK Boulevard, with two men shouting at each other after one cut the other off in traffic. After driving to the next stop light in heavy traffic, one guy got out of his car and punched someone. But it was a case of mistaken identity. Reg socked the wrong man. Come on, Reg. Let's talk. 332-6166.
Cloth coats for everyone
A hearty welcome to all those young, ambitious Republicans brainstorming at the Lord Baltimore. I'm glad you've chosen our city for your meeting. While in Baltimore, be sure to enjoy the Inner Harbor and the other landmarks of urban renewal subsidized through federal programs that Ronald Reagan and George Bush cut off.
First class chuckle
Overheard Wednesday in line at U.S. House of Representatives Post Office:
Woman: "I'd like 100 Christmas stamps, please."
Clerk: "What denomination?"
Woman: "Has it really come to that? OK, then, I'll take 50 Protestant and 50 Catholic."