Jack and the Art Fair

     Our nephew, Jack, and his husband, B.J., spent some time with us last week.  They came for the art fair.

     Each July, barring a pre-vaccination pandemic, about 400,000 people come to Ann Arbor for the art fair.  As the population of the town itself is under 120,000 souls, this represents a major infusion of energy.  Add Jack and B.J., and we’re lucky the town doesn’t spontaneously combust.

     Some locals give the art fair a pass.  I enjoy it.  So does B.J.  Jack, on the other hand, loves the art fair, the way Toad of Toad Hall loves automobiles.  Jack loves the art fair—and I blush to say this about our otherwise-perfect nephew—to a fault.

     First off, Jack and B.J. arrived here four hours early.  True, Jack had called.  And true, we are always delighted to see the two of them; New York is a long way from here.  B.J. had to work that day, Jack reminded me, but nephew and aunt could make a first foray to the fair, right?  Certainly.  Aunt would be delighted.  We left B.J. with his mobile hotspot, and set off.

     Jack and I started the fair at its northerly edge on Main Street.  About the second booth in, I was smitten by stainless steel sculpture.  One of the smaller items caught my eye, a turtle like onto a Galapagos tortoise, with a carapace built of what might be icing tips for some giant’s cake.  The reptile weighed about eleventy-seven pounds.  I decided to take my chances and take another look at it on our way back to the car.

     About the third booth in, Jack was smitten by pottery.  He and B.J. are big fans of ceramics.  A planter, in particular, caught Jack’s eye.  The shape was pleasing and the glaze beautiful.  It weighed about eleventy-one pounds.  Jack decided not to take any chances and bought it then and there.  Fortunately, the artist agreed to hold the purchase until we swung by again later.

     We picked up speed and made it through about half the fair in the two-hour maximum time limit of our parking meter.  That is correct:  two hours, making additional purchases as we went.  Jack ended up carrying the tortoise to the car in one arm and the planter in the other, apologizing for asking me to carry his wall hanging (approximate weight, a few ounces).

     Family time took up the rest of Thursday, and it rained three inches on Friday.  The Ann Arbor art fair coincides neatly with the most extreme weather of the summer every year.  So we didn’t head back to the fair until Saturday, when B.J. could join us.  I was happy to go a second time, as my favorite part of the fair is the high-rent district, which we hadn’t seen Thursday.  I made clear to the nephews that I wouldn’t be making a day of it with them.

     But it came to pass that all three of us started where Jack and I had started before.  Crowds were heavy, so covering Thursday’s territory again took about four hours.  We stopped for lunch, but after that was a bit of a blur.  What I remember most is being glad Jack and B.J. were both wearing Converse shoes.  That way I could huddle under my sunhat and follow the Converses, no matter which nephew was in front.    

     We made it to campus and the high-rent district on Ingalls Mall.  Jack and B.J. found it inspiring, as I always do.  They slowed down.  Ahhh.  We moseyed, stopping to talk with artists.  At length, we came to the last booth.  We hadn’t covered the rest of the high-rent district on South University, but I saw no need to mention that.  Turned out, I didn’t need to:  Jack remembered it from the last time he and B.J. came to town for the art fair.  We went to South U, and they saw their favorite art of the day.

     They were enthusiastic about everything they’d seen as I led them the shortest route back to the parking garage by the library, collecting another of Jack’s held purchases along the way.  What was your favorite purchase, they asked each other.  What was your favorite thing you didn’t buy?  Wasn’t the woven glass amazing?  Who knew beeswax could be an art medium?  This fair was even better than the last one!

     The Ann Arbor art fair includes about 1,000 artists.  It sprawls from Main Street to State Street, the streets that border the University of Michigan’s main campus, and other streets, long and short:  thirty city blocks of juried art.  Thirty.  City.  Blocks.  Jack, B.J., and I covered all of it in one day.   

     This, Mr. Toad, should not happen to anyone. 

     But, Mr. Toad, if it does happen to anyone, there’s no one I’d rather it happened with than you and B.J.

23 July 2021