I wrote a book

Hey, guess what!  I finished an art project I've been working on since I was 15. Want to see it?  

I wrote a BOOK

Why I have continued to be the Chalk Bandit

(All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

I have re-posted this today because of the situation that came about yesterday.  I only want to be the GOOD in this world and share positive thoughts and feelings.  If someone asks me to create a chalk piece in front of a home they own, and it is tidy and temporary, isn't that okay?  It hurts my heart when someone else comes with water and their tennis shoe and smears it away in 3 minutes while the people who live in that building beg him to stop. 

In the 3 hours it took me to create that piece, at least 6 people stopped to thank me for Funism and encouraged me to continue. It took him 3 minutes to erase the message, but leave a mess. 

 

I believe this 4 minute movie by super filmmaker Robin Fenlon explains Funism completely. 

If you are worried about Chalk being a gateway to other graffiti, like the chalk destroyer above, read this. 

I was born at South Bay Hospital.  I grew up here.  The South Bay is an interesting place to grow up.  It’s a very small town- Every time I am out, I run into someone I know.  I like that small town feeling.  So many of us have gone to school here and send our kids to the same schools.  When my son is skating about town, there are people keeping an eye on him (It takes a village). The South bay is also a very big place- spread out (like the rest of Los Angeles) for miles.  Sometimes it doesn't seem like a community at all- Los Angeles is the city without a center and the South Bay is a community with many hearts.

I've lived in most of the cities that are included in the term “South Bay” but Hermosa has my heart because of its artist culture. Hermosa was the center for Jazz music, the center for Punk Rock. 35 years ago I saved my money to buy a pair of purple suede roller-skates from Wild Wheels- the skate shop on the strand. I bought my first pair of Doc Martins at Re-Style, I bought my first Bukowski book from Either-or-Bookstore.  I worked graveyard at Denny’s, worked a few days at Uncle Stavros, worked for years at Rocky Cola.

At 3:am when my shift was over at Rocky Cola, after serving drunks on one side of the restaurant, and “friends of Bills” on the other, I was often too wound up to head straight home to bed.  My friend and I started going down to the pier to draw with chalk.  We would bring coffee for the police and they would hang out and drink it while we drew murals with chalk. The next day we would go down to the strand and listen to the comments- “I wonder who did that?”  “I like what it says” “That’s pretty”  “It’s only chalk”.  I felt encouraged. 

My room-mate and I started to draw on the brick wall that blocked our front door from Inglewood Ave.  In the morning, cars would wait for the light to turn green on Artesia as they headed to the freeway. This was back in the day when no one was looking down at cell phones at every stop.  We drew flowers and hearts and stars and smiling faces.  We wrote messages like “Hootenanny is my magic word” or “Smile today” or my trademark saying “Wake Up and Frolic”.  In the years that we communicated with the increasing traffic, our chalk never caused anyone to lash out at us, or wash it off, or find our chalk a “Gateway to graffiti”.  In fact, when the messages faded and were no longer legible or attractive, we would wash it off ourselves, in order to have a new, clean canvas to work with.  My neighbors began to leave chalk on our doorstep, and I interpreted that as encouragement to continue. 

When my son was young, I started doing things like the “WaxLips Brigade” “Google Eyes” and “Toy tagging”.  The toy tagging evolved into leaving tiny plastic mermaids around. Once I started posting photos on Facebook, and others participated, it turned into an international game.  It is much bigger than me, and anyone can play.  It made the world a smaller place.  See: “GlobalMaids”. 

The Wax Lips Brigade, Toy Tagging, Mermaids.. All of these things (concepts? Projects? Movements?) can be filed under the heading “FUNism”. 

FUNism- the ideology of FUN, the Religion of FUN.

Playing with chalk is part of FUNism.  I've been doing it for over 20 years.  My chalk activity increased when my son was young. We left messages on friend’s driveways, on sidewalks, near elementary schools.  The messages were well received.  We made a difference in people’s days, helped to cheer people up and that made us feel good.  I was encouraged.  So I took my chalk back to the places where I spend the most time- primarily Hermosa Beach.

The first time someone passed by me and yelled “That’s graffiti” I was sad and a little shocked. I don’t want to upset anyone.  I never for a moment figured that anyone would be against CHALK.  The reason I was down on the strand with my chalk was because I wanted to give the world a gift.  I wanted to give back to the community that I love so much. 

I sat back and anonymously watched others viewing the chalk.  95% of the people who noticed would smile, or stop and take a photo, or comment about how much they love seeing these little surprises on the strand.  But I don’t even want to upset 5%, because those 5% have a right to peace and happiness as well.  So, I thought a compromise would be to come around regularly and wash off the chalk messages, as soon as they began to fade, or when they were there too long. 

At this point, the chalk thing has become such a big deal.  I have divided a community that I want to unite.  I was never trying to be subversive.  But in a strange way, I feel the chalk part of FUNism is almost “a calling.”   

On Thanksgiving of 2012 I was going for a walk with a dear friend of mine.  While she stopped to get a drink, I wrote on the face of the stairs that lead to the bathroom: “You don’t have to know where you are going, just take the first step.”  A dog came up to investigate and while I was petting him, his owners asked me if I was the person who leaves chalk messages on the strand.  I gave them the reply people more “mature” than I have advised me to give- “I cannot confirm or deny my involvement in that activity.” 

“Well, we just love it and want to say thank you.” She said to me. “You’re welcome! It is me”, I said.  “Happy Thanksgiving!”  My friend next to me told them about how I left chalk messages on her driveway every week while her husband was recovering from a hit and run car accident and unable to walk.  As soon as he was able, he sat at the computer and ordered a big box of chalk from her teacher’s supply catalog. That was Thanksgiving day 2011, exactly a year before.

“If you are not opposed, I would love to get your phone number and donate some chalk to you” the man said. 

“I can always use more chalk, that would be fantastic” I gave them my phone number and a hug.

Two days later I got a call, saying my chalk was ready to be picked up.  I got their address and took my son there after school.  Their home was one I recognized, because they live on the strand and I always liked a particular piece of art they have decorating their yard. I was gifted a big brown grocery bag full of chalk and told when I need more to give them a call. As we walked away my son said to me “Mom, you have a chalk sponsor” and we both thought that was exciting and cool.

I have had other interactions with people that I can only interpret as encouragement.  One time a lady came up to me and said “I have always wanted to catch you in the act, so I can thank you.  Your messages mean so much to me and have helped me in my darkest days.  One day I came down and read “Don’t stumble over something behind you”… she couldn't complete her sentence, tears welled up in her eyes.  I stopped chalking, stood up and hugged her.  “I am so glad you like it.  Thank you for telling me, YOU just made MY day brighter.”  Situations like that are more common than you know.  I hope to write about more of them in the future.

I believe this 4 minute movie by super filmmaker Robin Fenlon explains Funism completely. 

   

How I (may or may not) have become the Chalk Bandit.

(All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

I was born at South Bay Hospital.  I grew up here.  The South Bay is an interesting place to grow up.  It’s a very small town- Every time I am out I run into someone I know.  I like that small town feeling.  So many of us have gone to school here and send our kids to the same schools.  When my son is skating about town, there are people keeping an eye on him (It takes a village). The South bay is also a very big place- spread out (like the rest of Los Angeles) for miles.  Sometimes it doesn't seem like a community at all- Los Angeles is the city without a center and the South Bay is a community with many hearts.

I've lived in most of the cities that are included in the term “South Bay” but Hermosa has my heart because of its artist culture. Hermosa was the center for Jazz music, the center for Punk Rock. 35 years ago I saved my money to buy a pair of purple suede roller-skates from Wild Wheels- the skate shop on the strand. I bought my first pair of Doc Martins at Re-Style, I bought my first Bukowski book from Either-or-Bookstore.  I worked graveyard at Denny’s, worked a few days at Uncle Stavros, worked for years at Rocky Cola.

At 3:am when my shift was over at Rocky Cola, after serving drunks on one side of the restaurant, and “friends of Bills” on the other, I was often too wound up to head straight home to bed.  My friend and I started going down to the pier to draw with chalk.  We would bring coffee for the police and they would hang out and drink it while we drew murals with chalk. The next day we would go down to the strand and listen to the comments- “I wonder who did that?”  “I liked what it says” “That’s pretty”  “It’s only chalk”.  I felt encouraged. 

My room-mate and I started to draw on the brick wall that blocked our front door from Inglewood Ave.  In the morning, cars would wait for the light to turn green on Artesia as they headed to the freeway. This was back in the day when no one was looking down at cell phones at every stop.  We drew flowers and hearts and stars and smiling faces.  We wrote messages like “Hootenanny is my magic word” or “Smile today” or my trademark saying “Wake Up and Frolic”.  In the years that we communicated with the increasing traffic, our chalk never caused anyone to lash out at us, or wash it off, or find our chalk a “Gateway to graffiti”.  In fact, when the messages faded and were no longer legible or attractive, we would wash it off ourselves, in order to have a new, clean canvas to work with.  My neighbors began to leave chalk on our doorstep, and I interpreted that as encouragement to continue. 

When my son was young, I started doing things like the “WaxLips Brigade” “Google Eyes” and “Toy tagging”.  The toy tagging evolved into leaving tiny plastic mermaids around. Once I started posting photos on Facebook, and others participated, it turned into an international game.  It is much bigger than me, and anyone can play.  It made the world a smaller place.  See: “GlobalMaids”. 

The Wax Lips Brigade, Toy Tagging, Mermaids.. All of these things (concepts? Projects? Movements?) can be filed under the heading “FUNism”. 

FUNism- the ideology of FUN, the Religion of FUN.

Playing with chalk is part of FUNism.  I've been doing it for over 20 years.  My chalk activity increased when my son was young. We left messages on friend’s driveways, on sidewalks, near elementary schools.  The messages were well received.  We made a difference in people’s days, helped to cheer people up and that made us feel good.  I was encouraged.  So I took my chalk back to the places where I spend the most time- primarily Hermosa Beach.

The first time someone passed by me and yelled “That’s graffiti” I was sad and a little shocked. I don’t want to upset anyone.  I never for a moment figured that anyone would be against CHALK.  The reason I was down on the strand with my chalk was because I wanted to give the world a gift.  I wanted to give back to the community that I love so much. 

I sat back and anonymously watched others viewing the chalk.  95% of the people who noticed would smile, or stop and take a photo, or comment about how much they love seeing these little surprises on the strand.  But I don’t even want to upset 5%, because those 5% have a right to peace and happiness as well.  So, I thought a compromise would be to come around regularly and wash off the chalk messages, as soon as they began to fade, or when they were there too long. 

At this point, the chalk thing has become such a big deal.  I have divided a community that I want to unite.  I was never trying to be subversive.  But in a strange way, I feel the chalk part of FUNism is almost “a calling.”   

On Thanksgiving of 2012 I was going for a walk with a dear friend of mine.  While she stopped to get a drink, I wrote on the face of the stairs that lead to the bathroom: “You don’t have to know where you are going, just take the first step.”  A dog came up to investigate and while I was petting him, his owners asked me if I was the person who leaves chalk messages on the strand.  I gave them the reply people more “mature” than I have advised me to give- “I cannot confirm or deny my involvement in that activity.” 

“Well, we just love it and want to say thank you.” She said to me. “You’re welcome. It is me”, I said.  “Happy Thanksgiving!”  My friend next to me told them about how I left chalk messages on her driveway every week while her husband was recovering from a hit and run car accident and unable to walk.  As soon as he was able, he sat at the computer and ordered a big box of chalk from her teacher’s supply catalog. That was Thanksgiving day 2011, exactly a year before.

“If you are not opposed, I would love to get your phone number and donate some chalk to you” the man said. 

“I can always use more chalk, that would be fantastic” I gave them my phone number and a hug.

Two days later I got a call, saying my chalk was ready to be picked up.  I got their address and took my son there after school.  Their home was one I recognized, because they live on the strand and I always liked a particular piece of art they have decorating their yard. I was gifted a big brown grocery bag full of chalk and told when I need more to give them a call. As we walked away my son said to me “Mom, you have a chalk sponsor” and we both thought that was exciting and cool.

I have had other interactions with people that I can only interpret as encouragement.  One time a lady came up to me and said “I have always wanted to catch you in the act, so I can thank you.  Your messages mean so much to me and have helped me in my darkest days.  One day I came down and read “Don’t stumble over something behind you”… she couldn't complete her sentence, tears welled up in her eyes.  I stopped chalking, stood up and hugged her.  “I am so glad you like it.  Thank you for telling me, YOU just made MY day brighter.”  Situations like that are more common than you know.  I hope to write about more of them in the future.

Some people believe artists suffer to bring meaning to their art.  I believe I make art to bring meaning to my suffering.

Chalk Can't Hurt You

I love chalk art. I have worked in this medium for years- sometimes going to the beach after midnight to create covert chalk murals for the people. I also lived for years on a busy street, with a big blank wall between my home and the traffic- this wall was my canvas. The police would occasionally come by, but then leave me alone when they found out I lived there and it was only chalk. (I eventually wrote "It's only chalk" so that people who drove by would not be afraid or offended) My neighbors would leave chalk on my doorstep, so I knew they approved.

I try to never write political or religious statements, only positive, colorful statements to keep with my idea of "FUNism". I often steal slogans, but I think I read a quote by Pablo Picasso that said "immature artists borrow, mature artists steal" so- that's my excuse. The art is mine, the words aren't always, and I hope if I wasn't able to "steal" the words, that I at least made them worthy of being borrowed.

Cool Plants

Isn't this shrubbery art amazing? The cheeks are actually rounded like you'd want to just pinch them.


It's really quite huge- in fact, the boy standing in front of them is 4 foot 2 inches!

May 6 2008- Chalk Tagging

My Mother died on May 6th 1992.

Some years on the anniversary of her death, I spend a lot of time crying or feeling sad or reminiscing.

Today instead I celebrated the lives of two women I admire and adore and I chalk tagged their homes.

The first one because it is her birthday and I've been chalking her driveway every birthday for 4 or 5 years and I thought she might be terribly disappointed if she came home to a blank driveway. Plus I like to let her neighbors know it's her birthday too, and what better way than with a chalk mural?



I also tagged my friend's porch, just because I love her and wanted her to know.




I still miss my Mom, but today was a good day. I'm glad she taught me how to have good clean fun!

Wild at ART

This is Kellie creating her painting called "Michael Jackson's dream before plastic surgery"

I have wanted to paint for 2 weeks, and every day I would tell myself "after the laundry" or "as soon as I get the kitchen floor scrubbed I will paint". I am not an amazing painter- I wouldn't even call myself a painter. I just like the way paint feels. I like to blend colors, I like to use different brush textures. I like to play with the airbrush. Before my son was born I painted EVERY day. The walls, the bricks, the furniture. I even painted many of my friends and then photographed them.

Finally today my friend Kellie was demanding I keep my promise I made to her to go skating, I wanted to stay home and paint but off to skate at the beach. (I know, I have it so easy) When I met her at the beach, she said she didn't have her skates and I was so HAPPY and YIPPEE because I told her then- We have to go buy canvases and Paint. Yippee! Kellie painted with her top off, I'm sure the neighbors loved that, but it was hot and she didn't have painting clothes on. We listened to Ween for inspiration. When Kellie's painting was born she named it "Michael Jackson's dream before plastic surgery". When my painting was born, I named it "Kellie Collier's eyebrows". I had fun today and I need to remember that I may not be a painter and I don't really like how it came out, but I am much happier now because I spent 2 hours playing with the airbrush and getting dirty!