Last month I was invited to paint in Vancouver’s downtown, following social distancing and extra precautions. The project aimed to change the desolate view of closed, boarded-up shops.
I’ve waited for a chance to paint here since I moved in. When it arrived, after the winter and the quarantine, it was an abrupt change of routine: spending all-day everyday spreading over the street, unable to keep track of what I’ve “touched”. Outside there was rain, cold, and a virus we don’t understand. Streets were not as empty as I imagined, and I saw junkies* in places I haven’t noticed before (*there’s a previous overdose crisis, you see very lost people and needles at plain sight).
As days went by, I normalized the discomfort and long cleaning rituals. I thanked Art and the organizers for the opportunity to share positive vibes, enjoy paint, and talk to people. I had a new feeling of belonging to this community. At times I was so happy I forgot it wasn’t a normal scenario. Other times -like when a junkie spent a while doing something at one side of the mural- my attention focused back to what was I touching and stepping on. To what was I doing in a place I don’t know. And while trying to handle my own craziness, I smiled at people asking me questions about the future:
-“But how will you recycle that wood afterwards? All that paint you’re applying will make it difficult”.
-“But if you’re painting a mural there… Does that mean the shops won’t open again?”
I didn’t have the answers, but I recognized the “fear of the future”. I told the lady that regardless of when the shops would reopen, I took this as a sign of improvement, as one month ago painting in the street would have been unthinkable. A smile transformed her face and I felt a cuddle in my heart.
I’ve been trying to befriend uncertainty way before the pandemic. I can’t completely let go of the need of control, but I try to draw a line between things I can manage and things over my head: the actions of people, nature, the world. When something external impact us positively, we smile and thank life. But when it’s negative, we frown and feel injustice. Learning to chill in the middle is hard but practice makes it more accessible.
Here’s the 30m. long mural, (that black dot is me):
And a portrait by @lydianagaiphoto -Greetings from Vancouver! A strange place that surprises me day by day
*This article first appeared in my newsletter: 05/15/2020 – Animalito’s Stories: Transition
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