Blue Art Walk

Last Friday, when the girls and I passed through one of the town parking lots after school, we came upon a curious beast. It was just sitting there in the middle of the wide sidewalk, with no one tending it. As I looked around for its owner, I saw several black-clad folks enthusiastically stringing a path of red balloons from the alleyway our way. I don't remember how I caught the eye of the post-apocalyptic carnival barker, or how it was revealed to us that this piece was interactive, but on a cool late winter early evening, I found myself wheeling my girls around.

We were told it was a happening, an attempt to enliven the alleyway. The gentleman then gestured toward the building where the balloons were heading, as if to indicate there was more magic inside. I was pulled toward it like I am toward drips and splashes of paint, but I resisted. The clash between mother and artist at that moment, though gently blurred by plush, was too great.




Instead of exploring the indoor art, we ran around and said hello to all the balloons, then headed home.