Making Paper at the Brooklyn Hi-Art! Machine

Today I learned how to make paper. It might be a surprise to some who know my politics and perspective and building/plumbing tendencies that I've never gotten into making my own clothes or paper; I don't compost; I don't belong to a community garden. I have no CSA. There are a lot of things on my to do list for being a model citizen.

It was hot in Brooklyn. And on the shady side of the street, under two tents, a few tables stood waiting to be surrounded by the young and old of the community, and Oasa sat sketching the boy who faced her on the other side of the table. A group of women and children walked ahead of me, we were all destined for this community project. The Brooklyn Hi-Art! Machine is a public art project serving a neighborhood that is being ravaged by gentrification (pause ... think about the fantastic use of words) and today a woman and her 10-year-old son George came out from Queens to conduct a paper making workshop just up the block from where I live.

I've kind of known Oasa for a couple of years and when I ran into her at a Farmers' Market vegetable stand I commented on the kickstarter for her project that I'd heard so many good things about but had never managed to visit and participate. I had three days to donate and they'd gone over their goal so she suggested I do a workshop. I didn't manage to donate and so I offered to do a workshop. Conversations via email: I think when my writerly verbosity communicated with her artist laid-backness glitches happened and I didn't end up doing a workshop. I could have but I also kind of bailed out.

Today, finally, the second to last day, I managed to make it to the awesome public art project that happens a few blocks away. And I learned how to make paper. And I met a ton of young people and helped them learn how to make paper, too. I wound up engaged in a rather in-depth and exclusive conversation with a young'un. His hair was to his shoulders and in his eyes. 

This is how it started:

What does life smell like? A few of the young, little people were looking at these buckets equipped with maps, a word and instructions to smell.

Life. Freedom.

Humility and Respect.

What does life smell like I asked? What about Freedom. 

"Freedom smells like cinnamon and salt."

Marcy, my new friend, was getting a bit high on Freedom. 

They weren't sure about life. Life smells like a pizza parlor, I said. 

I'd already explored the interactive art piece. And had written down my own answers in the little book I carry.

Humility is the sweet smell of love.

Respect: a forest carpet of pine needles after the rain.

It's always flattering when a random kid takes a liking to you. He showed me the tins he'd painted the day before that belonged to a masterpiece of connected cans of different sizes painted by the people on the block that looked like a necklace for a giant (he understood my imagination, I need to talk to kids more, I made a mental note) and we got to talking about making paper and the art project they did yesterday and summer in Brooklyn. He was telling me about his dog. Who was at home, and then, no at the vet. Why? I asked. And he said something that may well have come from his imagination.

I used to have a dog, I said, got her when I was just a bit older than you. How old were you? He asked. Nine, I said. How old are you? Seven, he said. But then he became 8 and a minute later he was nine. I honestly have no idea how old this boy is, his arms were so skinny and frame so little but he couldn't have been too little because his language, however mumbled and at times really hard to understand, was good. My guess is seven.

Oh, it's my birthday in three days he said. He'd forgotten he was eight and is going to be nine in three days.

I'm not going to reproduce the conversation but it was fantastic. Random. Creative.

At times I was thinking, does he realize that I know he's making all this shit up?

At times I wondered if he was thinking, does she realize that I'm making all of this shit up?

Except maybe he wouldn't have thought "shit."

From dogs to superheroes to block association presidents with exclusionary rules.

Eventually he went off to play with the other kids. And I asked Oasa if she'd like to do portraits at the launch. She will. Thanks, Oasa!

And thank you to Mildred the Hi-Art! collaborator. The world needs more accessible art workshops on the street and we all need to contemplate the scent of Freedom, Life, Humility and Respect on a regular basis.