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. 

   

Suicide Prevention Month

September, National Suicide Prevention month, is personal to me because I have lost friends and family to suicide.  I ask myself often if there was anything I could have done to save them. 

 

And here is my big step out of the closet- This is personal to me because I have suffered from depression most of my life.  At least as far back as I can remember.

 

Before you start thinking that I am trying to “get attention” or “looking for sympathy”.   Know this: when I am in the deep dark hell of depression; I typically do not want ANY attention, or interaction with anyone.  

 

I lose a lot of friends when I am depressed.  They tire of hearing my tale of woe.  No one likes a Debbie Downer.  So, you know what I do?  I isolate.  I am tired of hearing myself be sad, and certainly don’t want to subject the people I love to…to me.  I feel like the best way to be a friend is to let them off the hook- remove their obligation to talk to me.  But depression thrives in isolation.  I know that too, logically, but depression isn’t logical.  You can’t necessarily critically think your way out of it.  

 

If I do risk interacting with people, they often think they can “cure” me by pointing out all the reasons I have to NOT be depressed.  Please believe me that this only makes things worse.  It’s basically like telling a person who is pregnant to suck in their tummy. 

 

How can a person who spends their time promoting “Funism” and “Random Acts of Kindness” be depressed?  I have said before that my Not-so-random-acts-of-Funism are purely selfish acts of survival.  When I can momentarily escape from the monster that is depression, I try to run to a place to help others- to spread happiness.  More than once I have written in chalk- “The best way to make you feel good is to make someone else feel better.”  I have faith in that.  Funism is my spiritual foundation.

 

I don’t have any easy answers for people who want to help someone who is depressed.  You can try to be there- but you may get pushed away.  You can invite them somewhere, but they may not be capable of leaving their house.  You can call them, but they may be sick of hearing their own voice. 

 

If you love them, try.  If they say no, try again in a while; an hour, a day, a week later.  Send a card, poke them on Facebook, do what you can.  Do it for yourself, in case they don’t survive, you can say “I did everything I could”.  In my heart, etched in scars, are the names of people I wish I had tried harder for. 

 

Again, this is not a “cry for help” I am on my way to chalk up the city- to leave a garden of painted skateboards for other people to find.  I may save someone’s life today.

A Short Film About Funism

A year ago I was contacted by an amazing artist/filmmaker named Robin Fenlon.  He said he was interested in making a movie about Funism. Normally, I would avoid any contact like that- but Robin sent along a clip of his work and I was impressed, he is an amazing artist. 

I think we became friends immediately. We have many common interests; extreme sports, making art, tying to make the world a better place, a deep love and devotion to Hermosa Beach.

A year later, I have a wonderful friend and this amazing four minute movie to show you-
a film by Robin Fenlon-
Funism, it's only chalk.


Funism, It's Only Chalk... from Robin Fenlon on Vimeo.

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.

Art Can't Hurt You

There is a fair that happens in Hermosa beach every year over labor day weekend. It involves a lot of crowds and arts and crafts, kiddie rides like slides and things that spin, pink puffy cotton candy, giant sausages with grilled onions wrapped in aluminum foil. There is even a beer garden where you can see a Journey cover band that has their very own groupies- not Journey groupies, but Journey cover band groupies.

To make the weekend's festivities more exciting for me, I went down on the Thursday before to add a bit of my own happiness, my own FUNism to the masses. My mission was simple: on either side of the strand entrance, I would put a message of joy and happiness for the fair people to read, to give them a smile, to help them think happy thoughts.


I share my fluffy thoughts with crayola chalk, the stuff kids use to play hopscotch and draw daisy's and dinosaurs on their driveways. Harmless. Good clean fun. Yet somehow, every time I go out with my chalk, I get people telling me that what I am doing is wrong. They just mumble it as they walk by. No one ever tries to actually confront me or discuss my motives or rights to my face, they just mumble words like grafitti and vandalism as they pass me by. These same people would never consider asking a person to pick up garbage they saw some litterbug throw on the street or pick up a cigarette that was tossed out a car window. I wish these closet vigilantes would ask someone to scrape up gum they just spat out their mouth onto the street or sidewalk and leave me and my chalk alone.

Somehow, because I am on my knees and coloring with chalk, I look like the person they should stop, a criminal easy enough to apprehend. Until the police come and put the cuffs on my wrists all I have to say is "Hell no I won't go!" The world needs a few less Starbucks cups laying around next to the McDonald's burger wrappers and a few more chalk daisys and stick people. One more message from the grave of Dr. Seuss saying "Fun is Good" in crayola chalk isn't going to hurt anyone. Sometimes I just have the need to ask the world to smile with me, to say hello! Occasionally I go back later and observe, and most people do get a smile out of it. My soul begs me to share my art. My O.C. D. demands that I bring along handiwipes to keep the dust on my hands to a minimum.

But, this Thursday was different. This time a brave man came right up to me and started a dialog.

As I started to chalk on the strand wall, a restaurant owner came up and asked me what I was doing.
I explained I was playing with chalk.
"Why?" he asks.
"Because it makes me happy" was my reply as I smiled up at him. "Because it's FUN".
"Does it wash off?" he wants to know.
"Of course, it will fade within just a few days, its just sidewalk chalk, like children play with, haven’t you ever played with sidewalk chalk? I ask.
"NO" He says, almost offended that I would assume he could do such a thing.
"Well then, that's our problem!" I declare, as I offer him a piece of beautiful deep blue chalk. "Here-try it."
"NO!" he says loudly and recoils.
"Why?" I ask him.
"I am afraid" he replies.
"You are afraid of chalk?" I ask.
He starts to back away from me as he says in his best grown up voice; "Don't you need a permit to do this? This is city property!"
I smile at him sweetly and reply "I don't need a permit to play with chalk and if this is city property, then it belongs to me." I continued with my message of JOY and left him with his fear of it. He walked back into his restaurant and was left with this message when I walked away.


If you see someone without a smile
Give them one of yours.

More Funism here: The Fun Zone; The Center for the Study of Funism

Father's Day 2011

This Father's Day I made new happy memories hanging out in Carmel Valley with Duke, Chris, Dustin, Jessica and their Mom; Lisa.
Here is a video of the boys jamming out down by the river.

What a beautiful day, what a beautiful life indeed