Neighborhood Art
Dot Mandala Rocks In the Neighborhood
Here’s a fundamental truth at the heart of Allison In Wonderland Designs: we need art to lift us up from the pedestrian moment. While intentional visits to art museums and galleries nourish my creative soul, public art found outdoors equally gladdens my heart; free and available to everyone, outdoor art ennobles the communities that host them. I lived in Philadelphia for many years, a city rich in public art. For me, seeing art during my morning commute (to a job that I wasn’t always thrilled about) cheered me up so much; it lifted me out of the quotidien and invited me into an alternate world of beauty and possibility…all while on the bus! Thank you, Philly! I needed to see the mural art throughout Philadelphia , the mosaic art of Isaiah Zagar, and the iconic Love sculpture. As an aside, I actually lived in a house in Philly’s Queen Village area that was mosaic-ed by Isaiah Zagar…it was pretty fantastic living inside a work of art!
Fast forward to 2020, when the world was hit by the COVID-19 pandemic. Quarantine found me furloughed, with the need/opportunity to transform my considerable anxiety. Every day, I’d spend hours painting in my atelier and weeding in the garden, activities that helped me to cultivate a sense of calm. Soon, my atelier and garden were burgeoning with dot mandala rocks, which very much sparked of joy for me. Beyond my bubble, the numbers of people sick and dying with COVID skyrocketed. In order to stay healthy, we were no longer social or connected. When my son and I went out to do our “Couch to 5K” run, we would cross the street when we saw people, saying “hi” at a distance. The isolation felt profound. Taking a page from my public art experience in Philadelphia, I realized that I might be able to impact others through my art. I started littering my neighborhood with my dot mandala rocks. Next, I dropped off rocks in the gardens of members of my book club. Finally, I made sure that every time I went for a walk in my community, the path got “rocked”. My heart smiled when I made my anonymous “rock drops”, hoping that the rocks might bring a smile to other people in my community. And that was that. But it turns out that it wasn’t just that! I have been honored to hear a few stories that trickled back to me about how my neighborhood rock drops affected a few people. I’d like to share these stories with you.
I received an email from a friend from book club, who’s also the director of a nursery school and a recipient of a few rock drops. She wrote this sweet story:
“I took part in a meeting with my “remote only” class’s parents last night. One shared experience that came up in discussion was the challenge many of the folks are having with getting their kids to go outside now that they have become so homebound. It's been a real struggle. One of the parents mentioned the spark that encouraged her daughter. I will try to convey what I heard: "So there's this street in Arlington near where I live – my daughter calls it the Fancy Rock Walk. The people who live on the street have decorated their yards with these beautifully painted rocks - they're all put away for the winter now, but my daughter loves to wander the street and hunt for them, deciding which one is the most beautiful. For her, it’s an adventure, and for me with the baby and a 3 year old to wrangle, it's a lifesaver - the thing that got me through this”. Transcription alone cannot capture the mom’s heartfelt expression. We could hear in her voice how deeply glad she was to find a bit of discovery and wonder for her little girl. Just wanted you to know the impact you made on a lovely young family.
My heart melted when the mother from this story came to a holiday sale last year and introduced herself. I was so happy when she and her little daughter found a few “fancy rocks” that they could bring home for themselves.
The second story I learned directly from a woman who lives in my neighborhood. When I was doing some spring gardening, she stopped me to ask about the dot mandala stones nestled amidst my flowers and in the neighborhood. After I told her that I was the artist, she shared the role this neighborhood art had played at a very difficult time in her life: the year before, this woman’s husband died after a brief illness. Compounding this loss, her mother, who had been suffering from dementia, died three months later. During those dark times of grief, made darker by COVID, she didn’t leave her house. After ample coaxing, her children enticed her to go on short walks around the neighborhood to see the colorful rocks. They established a routine, walking the neighborhood to see the rocks, breathe in the air, take in the sunshine. How happy was I when she came to a show I had last summer, and got some rocks for her own garden.
We all need art to lift us up from the pedestrian moment, to cheer us, to make us think, to remind us of humanity, to give us hope. Painting away in my atelier, I calm down and recharge, which stokes my resilience. When I share my work with others, I am filled with joy. It makes my heart happy to know that my artwork can make a small difference in the lives of people.
