One of my most entertaining ways to help support our non-profit Gallery when operating funds were difficult to manage, was the engaging world of face painting. Over the years I painted all ages from sleeping infants (a photo of my hand and brush stroking a Mickey Mouse on a napping child appeared on the front page of Louisville, Kentucky’s Courier-Journal the day following an art show.} to senior citizens in a retirement home.
Together with a sketch artist, for several years, I joined the excited crowds in the Infield of Churchill Downs during The Kentucky Derby. Returning customers said I had brought them luck at the betting window by painting a Horsehead and a number on their faces. A national magazine interviewed me one Derby Day.
At the Louisville Zoo, I dressed as Mrs. Claus when the children paid a visit to Santa during the Christmas season.
During Halloween, I enlisted a group of artists to paint pumpkins and scarecrows for youngsters on a Stage at the Zoo.
Our group of artists, including a talented nun, made the rounds of Catholic Picnics one summer. The crowd never suspected that Sister Mary Jane sat at one of the tray tables.
One year our artists used a TeePee as a backdrop and welcomed the lines of children in the Courtyard of The Kentucky Exposition Center during the State Fair.
And then there was an adventure that I am reminded of whenever I see a Merry-Go-Round.
A friend called to tell me about a carnival taking place at a Shopping Center out Dixie Highway for the weekend and suggested that I should set up my table and do a little business.
Things were going along fine when a gentleman with a clipboard appeared. All previous setups had been done at art shows or sponsored events so I was surprised when the “tax man” appeared and asked to see my permit. I had not thought of needing one.
I must have looked shocked and frightened because after he demanded again that I produce a permit, a burly ride operator strode over and stood between me and the clipboard gentleman.
“She’s with us.” the operator said in a gruff authoritative voice.
The clipboard man took one look at the operator and after glancing at me, nodded his head and walked away.
I thanked the operator who grinned and walked back to start the next Merry-Go-Round group on their happy ride.
It turned out to be a good weekend after all. I still thank that operator in my mind when I pass a Shopping Center and see the Merry-Go-Round offering an entertaining event. Once upon a time, I was glad to be with them.
PACKING UP
After Show Visitors walk away from the line of arts and craft booths along a city street, the flurry of activity that then transpires is calculated and precise when vehicles pull up to the curb and exhibitors begin packing up for the journey home to studios and work areas.
Already exhausted from their show, artists and craftsmen, their families and helpers take a deep breath and put forth one last surge of effort to vacate the scene.
Gordon Koppert gave me the idea of running 2 x 4’s across the inside of my Ford van, securing them to the side van frame with slide bolts. This solved my problem of placing my paintings first rather than storing the bulky setup on the bottom layer Taking a painting down and loading it was much easier than my old method of stacking paintings off to the side, loading the setup as a bottom layer then placing paintings on top of the setup.
Nana K. and Jean deserve the “Good and Faithful Servant” titles for all their load up help through the years. I took that deep breath knowing they would be there wherever a show exhibition took me. Mothers and sisters are like that.
CAMP TAYLOR BALL PARK
On a trip to mail packages, I passed by Camp Taylor Ball Park on Poplar Level Road near the Watterson Expressway exit. It is still the scene of teams and spectators just as it was when my Uncle George coached young ballplayers during their summer league schedule.
Uncle George also operated the concession stand at the upper edge of the Park to raise funds for purchasing uniforms and sports equipment for his teams.
The Park is now lined with trees producing such dense foilage so that unless you knew it was there, you would not realize that it exists. But if you and your sister, Jean worked for your uncle collecting bottles that spectators dropped bneath the bleachers, you could still hear the roar of parents and friends cheering a player rounding the bases and heading for home plate whenever you drove along Poplar Level Road near that Watterson Expresway exit.
Back in those days, soft drinks in glass bottles were purchased from the concession stand where George P. Kernen entertained his customers with stories of past league activities. He was never at a loss for words as anyone who had the pleasure of stepping up to that concession stand would remember.
Whenever I see a ball team or a bleacher, a memory flashes in my mind and I see my sister, Jean with me picking up bottles and carrying them back to Uncle George who is laughing and telling one of his stories. I feel fortunate in having such vibrant movies for my mind to replay now and then.
Life is never dull when you replay an Uncle George mind movie. A concession stand brings back those same moments as does a summer breeze or driving along Poplar Level Road near that Watterson Expressway exit.