SOUR GRAPES

I’m a sore loser; I admit it so let’s get that settled right now.  Don’t expect me to be happy about the fact that the mayor and city council of Vallejo, in their infinite wisdom, decided not to appoint me to the Arts & Culture Commission.
 

Don’t worry, I’ll get over it.  Politics is a game, isn’t it?  When I first moved to Vallejo I ran for the beautification board and was not elected.  Council-member Robert McConnell explained it was because no one knew me then.  That made sense.   I didn’t feel betrayed.  Now, however, they know me pretty well.  What's the reason this time? 

Was it something I said?  Did I mention I helped create, write, get placed into the general plan, argued and wrote letters for this newly created Arts and Culture Commission?   It was my baby.

But there are worse things.  And now that I’m off the hook of having to comply with official acts and ordinances that would necessarily quiet my otherwise outspoken opinions, I don’t need to play by the rules.  I can climb back up my band wagon and speak my mind, say what I think like I used to do when I wrote a column for the now defunct VIB (rip) and made some people mad.

My love for public art has been seriously cultivated over many years - as an observer all over the world.  I’ve stared at the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Pyramids in Egypt, The Taj Mahal in India, The Fountains of Trevi in Rome, and the sculpture strewn all over New York City.  Now I look at an object on the ground in front of our Ferry Building, and ask myself how this can happen. 

When I moved to Vallejo in July 2014, into a condo at Mariner’s Landing, with a wonderful view of the river and Mare Island, I couldn’t help notice the blight called Independence Park along the water in front of my house.  I wrote a petition to the city to fix up that park.  Another baby of mine.  A thousand people signed.  It’s a story that has come to include memories of Osby Davis that make me smile – yes! --  and visions of giant bronze heroic monuments that give me nightmares. 

Another example of things gone wrong: Sacramento Street corner of Georgia.  My quarrel here is not with the artist but with the deciders who agreed to allow that picture to get painted on that wall.  The stilted coloring book style is cold and simplistic; it’s too big for the space, and not suitable for the heart of downtown Vallejo.  It says nothing about our city and who we are.  Where is the soul?

Ditto about the so called art painted on utility boxes along the waterfront and scattered around other downtown corners of our city.  Who let them do that?  Is this kindergarten?  The drawings pinned to my refrigerator are better and more interesting than that stuff.  If I was a visitor stepping off the ferry, seeing Vallejo for the first time, and was greeted by that cutsy stuff on utility boxes directly across the street from our debarcadero, I’d not be impressed.  I wouldn’t think the people here think much of themselves.  I wouldn’t be moved to check out their art galleries.

I wouldn’t want to go to the dentist either, another choice offered to ferry riders on said debarcadero.  I love the dentist inside; he made two nice crowns for me recently, but he’s in the wrong place.   That’s not what we want on our beautiful waterfront. 

Public Art is not my only obsession in Vallejo.  Another important item I also wanted to work on as a commissioner was to bring the diverse cultures in Vallejo together through the arts. I never understood why all the art & cultural events in Vallejo are attended by white people only.  I began to inquire why more black artists didn’t take part, and I uncovered some interesting answers.  And I’m glad to see that rabbi larry is asking the same questions.  Is it a Jewish thing?  I may not be a commissioner but I can still help them to achieve this necessary coming together our city needs.

Here’s a special shout out to Councilman McConnell for not appointing me to the Arts Commission that I helped create and that I consider my baby.  I’m not the first mother to have her baby taken away from her.  Now Pharoah’s children are looking after it and doing a good job, I hope.  In any case, I’ll be watching them, you can be sure.