Strange Child...

     I was thinking today on the first time I remember having an inclination to art. I was six or seven, living in a trailer park with my family, I remember sitting in our yard next to the sidewalk in front of an old milk crate making these masks. I had a few rolls of aluminum foil, a coffee can of random objects like buttons, pennies, thimbles, nuts and beads a jar of glitter and a few bottles of glue. Making the masks with all of my little objects and selling them for a few pennies to people who passed by.

     It was ridiculous really, thinking about it now but I was planning to get rich selling my masks. I was so confident in my ability I actually ran away from home that same day. My mother, step-dad and siblings had all gotten in the car and left for what I thought was for good. I took my jar of pennies, a couple dollars I think and walked away from my business, planning to make my way to Kentucky. On my way I decided to stop and acquire some provisions which from what I remember was a brown paper sack of green beans and an Ice Cream cone. Somehow I’d lost my shoes during my journey and wrapped a shirt around my feet to go into McDonalds for my ice cream. Dumping my jar of pennies onto the counter I sorted through the buttons and screws trying to remember how to count change and the teenager behind the counter decided that my Ice Cream should be free. I sat down at a booth making sure to keep my feet covered, I was afraid they’d kick me out because I wasn’t wearing shoes, and ate my Ice Cream, while counting my pennies to avoid further embarrassments. Taking stock of my supplies, my dirty old foot shirt, some supplies to make more masks, a can of pennies and my sack of green beans I felt confident of my ability to make it to Kentucky and set out again, walking by the Riverside Police station on my way.

     I crossed a busy street, walked up the on ramp to route 4 and was quickly apprehended by a Police officer. He knelt down in front of me and picked me up asking me just where I thought I was going, I told him the zoo, so that my parents wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving me and going to Kentucky (they actually went to the grocery store) He put me in his car, gave me some crackers or cookies or something just in time to see a hysterical woman running up the on ramp (my Mother) following leads from people who had seen a dark skinned little girl with a can of pennies making her way to Kentucky. He asked her if she’d lost a little girl and she ran faster, saw me in the car and I really think she almost fainted. I’ll remember that spanking for the rest of my life, but I deserved it.

    Later that day my grandmother put me in the bath to sooth my bleeding legs and took all my art supplies away. Art was dangerous for me at that point, and they weren’t going to let me keep doing it since it had already caused so much trouble. I didn’t actually know what art was, but I knew that I liked it, that it was dangerous and that it scared my family to death.

and so it began.