Last Thursday, meaning the last Thursday of every month, is a popular and lively occasion on Alberta Street in Portland, Oregon.  It is a street fest in which artists and craftspeople set up tables and at least attempt to sell their work to the crowd that walks up and down the street.  Musicians perform, and people in costumes (such as a black tailcoat and top hat) ride along in very tall bicycles or stroll down the center of the street on stilts. Some artists hang paintings on the façade of an abandoned building, and others bring folding screens on which to hang their paintings.  Jewelers set up small tables, and a passerby can look at other arts and crafts, such as pottery and origami.

The first time I attended Last Thursday, I was a volunteer at a booth for a nonprofit magazine, and the booth was tucked away around a corner so I was not overwhelmed with the crowd.  I did take a couple of walks up and down Alberta Street, however, and absorbed the festive atmosphere.  Goths played weird music that had rather the effect of fingers on a chalkboard.  Clowns pedaled up and down the center of the street and nobody got in their way.  Guys wore tutus and gargoyle masks.  After dark, an eccentric group of musicians wearing second-hand punk clothes performed brilliantly, while a guy with a fishing rod dangled a stuffed toy animal above spectators’ heads to see if they would notice.

During the most recent Last Thursday, I arrived at 4:45 to set up a table and sell sculptures.  No application, reservation, or booth fee is required; all you have to do is show up and set up a table and merchandise.  I was surprised to see that so many artists were already completely set up, and I ended up around the same corner where I had volunteered about nine months ago.  It was a comfort zone for me, which was a good thing considering this was my first time setting up a table. 

I talked with the woman selling screenprint t-shirts at the booth next to me, and she said that last time she showed up at four and lots of people were already set up.  I said, “I thought it officially started at five.”  She explained that so many people have been coming to sell things, that they’re showing up earlier.  It struck me as ironic that I had an embarrassing image of myself showing up at about 4:30 and setting up a table by a sidewalk well before anyone else had shown up.  I decided that next month I’ll arrive at four and bring food, fabric to use as a tablecloth, and a chair for me to sit.  I had meant to bring a folding chair and forgot.

The crowd seemed less weird than last summer, but this time I didn’t wander up and down the street, so I could have missed quite a bit.  Guys in unusual bicycles were back:  one I recognized rode a very tall bicycle and wore black from head to toe, including a tail coat and a top hat, and he still had long dark hair.  Another rode a tricycle and wore psychedelic colors.  Someone parked an impressive orange rickshaw near my booth, and I thought some of the rickshaw drivers I saw in India would be envious. 

I did meet a couple of drag queens with their faces painted; one with a beard had a mostly white face, and the other had a face painted half white and half purple.  She wore a short black dress and had purple and black bouffant hair made of feathers.  The other had a beard but wore the more flamboyant costume, including bright green canvas shoes, a diaphanous blue and purple dress, and a very tall hat blue hat with a long sequined yellow, green, and blue veil.

I did not sell a single item that evening, but many people walking or passing by complemented my work.  One of the drag queens said, “I should get my younger sister a doll.”  A blond hippie boy noticed the Buddhist theme at much of my table and bowed to me Tibetan style; I laughed and bowed back.  A woman gushed that my sculptures were very imaginative, and a guy said he and his companion saw my stuff from the street, and he declared it “beautiful.”  It hadn’t occurred to me that my art would attract many prepubescent kids, but it did, mostly girls.  I was selling not only Sculpey and cloth figures that I’ve made in the past seven years but also a few dolls that I made when I was a teenager, and even then I had a mindset that my dolls were works of art, not toys.  But the children were also attracted to my bright clay sculptures, particularly the cats. 

One very annoying little boy picked up one of my Sculpey figures by the head, and I gasped.  The adult accompanying him and his sisters reprimanded him, and then the brat smiled while he deliberately touched the next three sculptures.  In his next life, he will be one of those mangy stray dogs hanging out at Tibetan monasteries…if he’s lucky.

Given the current economy, more artists and craftspeople are attempting to sell work that perhaps like mine occupies a lot of space in their home.  But also because of the current economy, even people who have not been part of a work layoff are less inclined to buy art.  To me, making art is like breathing, and you cannot have life without art.  Setting up a table at Last Thursday is one way to get exposure and to hopefully sell some art eventually.  Who knows, perhaps I’ll attract the attention of a gallery owner.