Mark Cline with mural
This year will be my 10th year anniversary with the Denver Chalk Art Festival. For nine of those years I have been friends with Mark Cline, a fellow chalk artist. He’s the guy who was always there. He left behind three amazing daughters who have grown into amazing young women who appreciate the arts because of their father. Yesterday was his memorial service and I went along with about three others who knew him from the festival. So many people work regular jobs and weren’t able to get out in order to attend but his Facebook wall is filled with the comments and posting of people who love Mark and will miss him fiercely.
Mark has something I don’t have nor will ever have, children. To see that something of him lives on is heartwarming. He also had several of his paintings there at the service. It was good to get to see them in person. I’ve always seen his chalk art at the festivals and different events where we were both following our passion. Our art is also something that survives us.
It has been a while since I have had one of my life threatening issues come up because I have been so much more healthy since moving to Colorado twenty years ago. This is the first time someone who is a fellow artist has passed away. There is something about people who are passionate share at a very basic level. We would rather do our art than anything else. Chalk art was only one of Mark’s passions. He also did murals. They are incredible. He was also into music and was part of a band earlier in his life. (I didn’t know that.) So it was good to attend his service and discover the other parts of his life I didn’t really know about.
Another thing Mark and I share is our ability to strike up a conversation with just about anyone and become friends with them. The room was filled with people who Mark made friends with out of thin air. A chance encounter, someone in the complex he lived at. An artist in the square next to his. He was present for them and cared. I loved that about Mark. He’s leaving a big empty spot for several people who he grew on. All I can think about is that for me each following chalk art festival will have a spot where he is no longer chalking and wowing people with his detail, and friendly way.
Being at his service just really made me think about my own life. I don’t want people to be able to pull art out of my space to show. I would rather that they would bring it from their own homes to share… art that is not bought doesn’t do living artists any good. I remember being a kid and going through the garage. I found trays of my uncle’s artwork in drawers. Tray after tray and it was incredible. Believe it or not my uncle was even MORE talented than I was. His drawings and paintings were effortless. I thought is was such a CRIME that this museum quality art was in the garage. My dad is also super talented, but he turned away from painting and went into photography. His art was up around the house, and it was also incredibly talented. I thought it was such a waste of God’s gift to do nothing with it.
I actually witnessed the last painting my father ever did. It was like magic, he brought me into the garage and had me watch. He made various shapes with watercolor, and watched me to see if I could tell what he was making. I couldn’t understand why he was making these shapes until he got out the black and made lines that seemingly connected it all…not until the end. It was the Barnum & Bailey’s circus clown! He never painted again after that for reasons unknown to me. I always felt that was a CRIME also. It was obvious the talent ran in my family so I felt compelled not to be the one who did “a real job” so that the art could fade into something that was just stored in a garage.
There was a book that I read called “Songmaster” written by Orson Scott Card. The main character was castrated so that he could sing like an angel far past the years of age… in that he could not have progeny. His life was filled with tragic pain and when he returned home to the songhouse he was forbidden to speak lest his pain taint the songs of others. In the end they let him sing his story, and because of that all the children of the songhouse carried a depth in their song that made them all more amazing because of the depth he passed on to them. I feel like that boy. I will have no kids, but I want to make my mark so that human beings will be able to take something of me past my life. A legacy.
I could see Mark’s legacy. His family was there. His friends were there. His art was there. Mark also died young and so such connections could be easily seen. He was taken too soon. He’s going to miss seeing his grandkids grow up. No more chalk art festivals. His murals will live on for a long time. All of this was swirling around me. Still is.
A million people have genetically combined to make who I am. If I am not having children then I owe all of their lives something to leave behind. My brother is also not having kids, so this is it. The arts that I have come to love are ephemeral. Chalk art and bodypainting are all about the present moment. Seeing both of them in person can never be truly compared to a photograph. The memory is so strong. It is meant to help change consciousness. To touch the heart. Your heart. My heart. I don’t know how the legacy will live past me, but while watching Mark’s slideshow with music I wondered how they were ever going to choose which photos to use for mine… but there are pictures of my art, a lot of it… and there is going to be a lot more.
Mark was an amazing artist, not just with chalk but with his life. It showed in the people who were at his service. I will miss him, but I am also glad I will have his art to remind me how awesomely talented he was. Rest in peace my friend. I will miss you not just this year at the chalk art festival, but every one that follows it.
Namaste’
Mythica
Mark Cline at the Denver Chalk Art Festival
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