Street Art and the Bar
We wandered out onto the little plaza around Rua de August in Lisbon on an unusually cooler and breezier late morning and watched one of the local street artists, a woman in white, white flowing dress, white wide brimmed flouncy hat, visible skin painted in all white, sitting on a small stool trying to keep it all together while leaning against a store front. Her purse was tucked under her dress and stool, meant to be hidden under her long dress which blew with the wind.
I watched her struggle as we walked slowly past, and she stood up to move away from the storefront to a spot more in the center and head of the pedestrian street, gathering up her purse and stool and holding her hat and dress hem as she scurried over to her new roost. The wind did not relent. We went on our way while she continued to try to put purse beneath skirt, and hold everything down for the show.
I got the idea that she was one of those "human statues" that moved slowly to greet the passersby in hopes of a few coins. I also got the idea that I was not supposed to see her out of character.
It was the morning of our last day in Portugal. We flew to Toronto that evening. On the flight, I thought of our "White Lady in the Wind". And I thought about my job, as a bartender, and all the other bartenders in the world, and servers and restaurant employees, and pretty much everyone that works in any field and the art of what we do. We have certain talents, and crafts, and techniques to get us through our work days, but along with all of that ingrained in our duties is a character that we take on (or put on) and act out on the stage of our jobs. I suspect that some of it is conscious, but most is not. Muscle memory, or simply what we fall into. Automatic. And a cover from the public we serve. The character is changed somewhat while on break, among peers, or dropped, or whatever, but I think it's still there to some extent.
But every once in awhile, for one reason or other, we let the character drop and show us without it. Not entirely, but to some extent, depending on the situation. A person we know better, or in some context other than the job, stress, or an emergency, or a distraction, or the feeling that we can alter the script (always within bounds), slightly or more broadly. Then, the next task comes along, and we're back in character.
I see it in everyone's work, be they shopkeepers, doctors, dentists, hairdressers, cops, politicians, whatever. But there's something intimate about restaurant work where it seems to me to be more entrenched. Well, not so much as the actual stage, but it's so much more of a stage production than most work.
I watched her struggle as we walked slowly past, and she stood up to move away from the storefront to a spot more in the center and head of the pedestrian street, gathering up her purse and stool and holding her hat and dress hem as she scurried over to her new roost. The wind did not relent. We went on our way while she continued to try to put purse beneath skirt, and hold everything down for the show.
I got the idea that she was one of those "human statues" that moved slowly to greet the passersby in hopes of a few coins. I also got the idea that I was not supposed to see her out of character.
It was the morning of our last day in Portugal. We flew to Toronto that evening. On the flight, I thought of our "White Lady in the Wind". And I thought about my job, as a bartender, and all the other bartenders in the world, and servers and restaurant employees, and pretty much everyone that works in any field and the art of what we do. We have certain talents, and crafts, and techniques to get us through our work days, but along with all of that ingrained in our duties is a character that we take on (or put on) and act out on the stage of our jobs. I suspect that some of it is conscious, but most is not. Muscle memory, or simply what we fall into. Automatic. And a cover from the public we serve. The character is changed somewhat while on break, among peers, or dropped, or whatever, but I think it's still there to some extent.
But every once in awhile, for one reason or other, we let the character drop and show us without it. Not entirely, but to some extent, depending on the situation. A person we know better, or in some context other than the job, stress, or an emergency, or a distraction, or the feeling that we can alter the script (always within bounds), slightly or more broadly. Then, the next task comes along, and we're back in character.
I see it in everyone's work, be they shopkeepers, doctors, dentists, hairdressers, cops, politicians, whatever. But there's something intimate about restaurant work where it seems to me to be more entrenched. Well, not so much as the actual stage, but it's so much more of a stage production than most work.
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