trailer park art and creative purpose

"True happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new."
 Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Seventeen percent of the housing units in New Mexico are mobile homes ranking us third in the nation outdone by South and North Carolina in that order.   The overall average in the US is eight percent.  I learned early in my life of a giant stigma associated with living in one of these homes especially when scores of them are stacked side by side with non-existent yards in collective “parks.” The potency of my parents’ commentaries planted this disparaging paradigm in me. But it lost much of its effect when financial necessity caused me to seek refuge in several such units and parks early in my life. The experiences served me well and the sheer numbers who are mobile home/trailer park dwellers give reason to notice and discover beauty where beauty is not expected.

Trailer park art is a theme worth exploring. I can envision the pieces: “Block Three Lot 27” is a Cezanne-like watercolor depicting some makeshift stairs leading to a rusting narrow metal door. Next to the stairs is a pile of crumpled beer cans and nearby is a pit bull tied with a frayed rope onto a car bumper.  “Contrast: lot 13 and 14” is an oversized detailed graphite rendition of an attempt by one creative voice to smarten her world by  placing several bunches of faded artificial roses in plastic pots on the railing of her tidy deck. Next door an unworking vehicle fills a littered miniature yard. “Drying on the Line” is an ink line drawing with a watercolor wash of laundry clothes-pinned onto a rope that is carelessly strung between an un-skirted unit and a small tree.

 A trailer park characterized by neglect is an image that evokes specific thoughts, judgments, and feelings. The observer might experience a spontaneous association with lack, laziness, filth, and low social standing that is mostly unconscious and unspoken or blatantly justified.  By bringing these images to the canvas, intentional and profound purposes may be served that extend beyond the limited pleasure or therapy the artist derives in the act of creating. There are intrinsic benefits that may be mined from these hypothetical works.

First, In his representation of the trailer park scenes the artist bestows the possibility of cultivating emotional intelligence in the viewer—the chance of an awakening sensitivity to internal reactions—the criticism, the revulsion, divisive assumptions, or social distancing are all potent illuminating responses that may arise in the act of even a brief silent and attentive looking. What is presented on the canvas has the potential of arresting attention away from an otherwise mechanical and benumbed response directing the observer to the gift of interior awareness and self-honesty.

A second purpose is the making of beauty from what is overlooked, minimized, repulsive, or commonly assumed to be non-beauty. Rembrandt’s Carcass of Beef comes to mind as a classic illustration of this. Something ugly and practical (a dead cow) is donned with the respect of excellent design, texture, and rich color.  One of my daughters gave me a letter this past weekend. It accompanied a book given to celebrate a milestone in my life.  In it she referred to some of my difficulties, doubts, and frustrations of several years’ duration. She stated that “one thing that remains and will survive is this drive in you to make things beautiful.” I think she is primarily referring to life situations more than a trailer park series of paintings and drawings, but her observation transfers broadly to all devotees of the creative process in innumerable venues.

The all-absorbing and mostly enjoyable nature of the creative process could easily translate as a self-focused pursuit. The benefits to the observer (or the reader, etc) are not automatic but cultivated and therefore not profitable to all. I find that I need to remind myself of the value of what I offer the attentive observer of my creation lest I forget my contribution.