Monika’s Mural

The foray into the Dirty South was for more than simple conjecture confirmation. I was invited by another volunteer. In my more egotistical moments (which were greatly padded and stoked in the past week) I like to say I was commissioned. Monika sent an email to Jon (alt voluntar) and I saying we were the only artistic people she knew. She just won a grant for a radio station—Radio Giurgiu, find it on facebook. Her school had given her an double room suite to set this up. She was then training her elite students in journalism and internet radio set up.

The rooms, however, were old toilets (yes, under Soviet rule, schools had indoor plumbing and toilets… now, not so much) and were unfinished and just plain ugly. Pipes everywhere. Gross green tile covering the half of wall that wasn’t scabbed and brown. Would we please design a mural after the theme “Media in our Lives.” We did, we met, we conferred, we compromised, we developed. All this back in March. We had to wait for school to finish so we’d all have enough time to spend on the project. Time predicted: 1 solid week.

She needed to fill a wrap-around border and one and a half walls full of image. The border evolved from music notes to music notes and sound waves, then I wanted to draw a gramophone somewhere. Stick some radios from the ages in there maybe. Combine these to make a wholly visual timeline of broadcasting! I started with a bird on one end and progressed to an iPod.

Obviously the big section had to be full of human joy and activity. This activity had better do with reporting and broadcasting. I thought first of a diligent line of reporters in fedoras with pads and Leicas raising hands and typing on typewriters. A whirring press, the sort you see in Citizen Kane or Bringing up Baby when news hits the street, going by In the background of a newsboy shouting “Extra!” in Romanian (the less catchy “suplimentar!”). On the second wall would be a girl with headphones talking into a big mic with appropriately pre-WW2 kitsch sound waves bubbling off her.

No sooner had this unfolded in my mind’s eye than I realized that was America’s perception of The Golden Age of Radio. Why not stick Zorro galloping towards the viewer and FDR in front of a fireplace?

Besides, it was just too busy.

And all my future apprentices would be apprenticed to . . . me. And, in a small pool, yes, I’m pretty damned good at drawing and painting, but my pinups will never get sold to magazines, my cartoons will never show up in the funnies, my comics will have to have a very good inker to make them palatable. Actually, I’m just good enough to be the inker. In fact, that would be an ideal profession of passion for me. Not to mention that my biggest past paintings were 4 feet square and took 3 weeks solid glazing and painting out and re-establishing .

What do Moldovans like? Bright solid colors. Shapely women. Proverbs. Frumosity. Brightly clothed young men and women. Generally, they are preferred to be standing or sitting with good posture and a touch more serious Mona Lisa smiles, probably with food or drink in one hand. . . for supernerd teens though. . .

I settled on three figures in various states of flight/jump. I sketched them and got familiar with the contours. I played with their arrangement. They would all be connected by mic and headphone wires to smiling globes. Monika added that the central feature must incorporate their logo. Big map of Moldova with one of those Golden Age radio tower symbols over her town. Thus, out with the globes and all wires come out of Giurgiulesti itself.

Yea. Cool.

When I got there, Mon had a projector all ready to go! Easy Peesy!

Set up. Trace. Paint.

The kids called me Artist Master, and took us on long walks with picnics and free ice cream. Monika and Matt (who had successfully invited himself along) called me Master Artist.

The kids themselves were great. A smear of ages from 6^th to 11^th grades, all girls of course. Two spoke substantially better English than any of my students and were some years younger. These girls, Valeria and Lidia, spoke about everything in very firm opinions at a million miles an hour. Truly delightful conversation, even if tiring on a 3 day intensive exposure.

The girls even proved to be diligent, punctual and accurate. Lidia excelled at fine penning, Valeria cheered everything up and brought tempers down, Viorica was a photography gem (many an abstract photo I would not have chosen turned out surprisingly revealing. See the one of Valeria’s flower bedecked nails painting a boy’s pantleg on Facebook), and Violeta had a great grasp of color blending and matching different tones together for a ballerina who reads and writes as she leaps.

They ran back and forth to magazines for soda and meat and bread and cucumbers. They chose music and sang softly and out of tune to all Katy Perry and Lady Gaga I had on my iPod, but balked at The Black Keys – too simple and hard. They refreshed our brush cleaning water, and kept trash accumulation to nil.

It’s good I planned on bright colors because those were the only shades Monika had. Her mom sent huge bottles of acrylic from the states, and vacuum wrapped them. The wrapping was handy as one of the black bottles exploded.

Jon came for the second day—happened to be his 25^th birthday—bringing a Fulbright scholar, Becca, with him. Much dancing and more crazed singing accompanied. He added flourish and psychedelic joy to the border. The soundwave/bubbles I had leading from a sports commentator mic to a 1999 Mac desktop now shine in the best sort of rainbow I’d never have managed.

Overall, it took only 3 days. Two and a half, really. Day 1: Drawing for half the day. Monika, Matt and the girls watch, provide me with tech support, tasty music, foods and conversation. Day 2: Paint from 9 to 5. Monika and I direct. Matt, Jon, Girls, Mon and I paint. We go through a dozen picnic plates for palates. Each palate has a range of colors and get swapped back and forth. Becca and various girls ferry between us as we paint. We can’t get the paint and clean our brushes ourselves because we are standing, by turns, on a chair, a desk and a professional sort of scaffold. I doubt I’ll ever feel so much like Michelangelo again.

In that spirit I silently ruled out watering down the paints. Everything was thick like fresco and most blending happened antipasto. It turned out really well. Also in the master spirit I was called in for complex shading of clothes and faces, any details Lidia got scared of and mixing skin tone.

That sounds like a lot, but Monika was nothing like a brainless commissioner. She not only knew what she wanted, but could easily have done most of it all herself. Especially with the projector. She came up with the perfect gold hues for not only the silhouette of Moldova but for the Golden Age radio set. When questions were asked she answered at least as competently as I did.

Further, I learned she is a trained fencer. I’ve been calling her the Stone Cold Latinator for months because she can speak Latin (yes, like Natasha Romanov in Ironman) and is a textbook on theology. She also runs everyday and has gotten these girls running with her! She is easily twice as integrated into her community as I am, and definitely has twice the amount of patience for her 7 year old host sister.

In our off hours, the 3 of us Americans watched Game of Thrones and geeked out over medieval stuff of all sorts. The only downside of everything was the 9 hour busride to her site. On my way home we stayed in an apartment with Mackenzie, drank box wine and watched the newest episode (the one that aired while we painted) of Game of Thrones. I gushed about character development etc. but that’s for another post on another blog.

It was a great experience with a great outcome, with, hopefully, a great addition to my CV.