Passion's creativity: Street artist Michael Kirby at The Smithsonian

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Creativity, love and how to find it in your passion within the limits of time. Photo: Michael Kirby

Writer Mary L. Tabor explores the passion of creativity in a two-part series.  This week, Mary looks down to elevate her sense of passion through street artist Michael William Kirby’s recent installation outside The Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery.

WASHINGTON, September 29, 2011—The Times They Are a-Changin'.

Perhaps Bob Dylan’s most famous song, defines the creative effort, its demand to love and work inside the limits of time and the erosion that comes with its passing.

Michael William Kirby, street painter, understands “here today” - painting in pastels that will wash away with rain and foot traffic – and “gone tomorrow.”

Last Tuesday, Michael, who hails from Baltimore, began a large sidewalk painting in front of the Portrait Gallery in DC as part of the museum's Chalk 4 Peace Family Festival.  Sidewalk paintings, created in chalk, can reproduce famous works of art or create forced perspective images that make it seem as though one is standing on the top of a pole (picture below) or about to step onto a mandala.

This is just one of many cities that has featured this artist’s work. Kirby began painting as a boy, learning the how-to’s in Italy. He has been painting streets all over the world for over 20 years.

 “I had a passion for it,” Mr. Kirby says. “I could draw but (felt) a chimpanzee could do what I did.”

As a teenager, he went to Italy where he learned that being an artist was an occupation and that he could actually make money from his drawings.

“That’s where I saw people painting Madonnas on the street in Florence and thought ‘I can do that’.”  Italy is also where he met Flávio Coppola.

The artist Flávio taught him “how to control, how to look at things, how to understand movement.” And before he knew it he was “making 30 bucks a day, enough to get by and I was happy.”

Michael hasn’t been to art school but says, “I’ve had a lot of help along the way. Some people pay to learn. I was lucky enough to get taught for free.”

The thing that becomes clear in this artist’s narrative is that it’s not about the money. I’m not saying he doesn’t need it or want it. I’m saying that the passion came first and the “30 bucks a day, enough to get by,” speaks volumes about Michael’s seeming awareness.

The Smithsonian commissioned Michael’s sidewalk painting about a year ago. He views the pieces he creates as “public art, in that realm,” emphatically adding, “and not what I consider fine art.”

This, while I sat there on The Portrait Gallery Steps looking at “Love”, depicted in the captured moment of a kiss, emerging on the pavement.

He said that fine art in gallery collections are really about inner reflection, as if what I was seeing in Michael’s work was not.

Respectfully disagreeing because as I was looking at Michael, yes, his face, where I could truly see him was in his work – down on the pavement.

He deferred, “Sure this is always about me, but in my consciousness I understand that this has got to be interpreted by the outside world. It’s very easy to go into a gallery expecting the unexpected, but what I do is in-your-face, guerilla type marketing." 

He worked from Tuesday through Saturday, but couldn’t work at all on Thursday because of the rain.

On Saturday when he thought he’d be finished, he did the borders and made a decision about whether to use the Buddha statue he’d created in his studio. Ultimately, he took Buddha down and put up a peace sign.

“This one’s about love, family, unity, embracing, tranquility, safety.”

And inside it, I saw those abstractions made concrete in the embrace of lovers, the hold of a mother’s arms around her child and calm seas that hold these images.

Saturday, while Michael finished, The Smithsonian set up tables with tubs of chalk and invited anyone walking by to “paint” on the sidewalk. Children and adults did. Some of us got our photos taken inside Michael’s painting, inside his self-reflection, and if we looked, seeing a reflection of ourselves.

Do we know where we’re going when we go after our passion? “I don’t know where I’m going when I begin,” Michael says. “I have a general idea of where I would like to take it, but everything changes as time goes by.”

If you were lucky enough to see this exhibit, you came upon the unexpected without expecting it.

When the Smithsonian’s white canopy was gone, when in the early dusk folks walked across Michael’s street painting as if it weren’t there, while I knew the rain would wash away his work, I learned again that to do the work of your heart is not about the money.

It’s about the love.

Michael’s studio Murals of Baltimore is in Fells point where he lives. He grew up in northeast Baltimore, the Herring Run Park neighborhood. He journeys all over the world to paint his heart on the ever-changing canvas of the street.

Follow Michael's example by taking W.H. Auden’s advice: Leap Before You Look.

Part 2 of this column on creativity coming next week: A dress designer who leapt and found his love and work.

Mary L. Tabor is the author of the memoir: (Re)Making Love: a sex after sixty story and The Woman Who Never Cooked. She says, “I ferret out the detail, love the footnote, am never bored and believe it all leads to story.

Best advice I ever got? ‘Only connect …’ E.M. Forster” Find out more at http://maryltabor.com

 


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Mary Tabor

I’m the author of the memoir (Re)Making Love: a sex after sixty story and The Woman Who Never Cooked, which won Mid-List Press’s First Series Award. I graduated from high school and went to college when I was barely sixteen. I always think I am the youngest person in the room—am trying to get over that—or maybe not because I have so much to learn.

You can read more about the so-called literal biography, where I went to school and jobs I’ve held, at http://maryltabor.com but one thing’s for sure: I believe love is the answer. Now, what was the question? In this column, I’ll try to figure that out with you.

 

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