Sweethearts on Main

"This is what I do with my summers," a balding, pear-shaped young man in his twenties explains as he gestures to the jewelry strewn on the table for display. He is working on a necklace as we speak. Shortly thereafter, his wife brings him a bag of spicy-smelling pizza boats. My stomach is very aware of the fact that they are eating, although I have eaten dinner already. He then goes on to explain why his jewelry is less expensive than the other jewelry booths, "there are three grades of stone, first second and third. I buy all three in such bulk and then I mix them up and combine them with different grades and colors and with silver, and then I can sell them cheaper." This future minister is newly married and has one more semester at Arizouna State University. He gazes through his thick- rimmed glasses at my husband and I while I desperately try to find some color scheme in his jewelry that will go with my Valentine outfit. After a conversation that lasts through three pizza boats, we move on to the next booth.

Like the jewelers' beads, there are many different kinds of booths strung up and down Historic Main in Mesa Arizona. Countless aspiring artists, musicians, dancers, and crafters bring their wares to sell every 2^nd Friday of each month. Each booth shines with its own unique color and shape, reflecting the passion of the artisan behind it.

Scented Candle Booth

Wood crafts

                  There are paintings, jewelry, knit hats, and wooden bowls. One booth displays handmade scented candles with scents like "Blueberry muffin, " and "Butt Naked."Another booth displays origami necklaces with oragami pendants crafted by 7^th graders at a nearby Montessouri School. This booth is manned by a 12 year old girl who is adorable and reminds me of my little sister. There is even a booth that displays guitars fabricated from cigar boxes with the merchant playing the electric guitars to show their ability.

Cigar box electric guitars

 Unique styles of music fill the air as we wander from booth to booth. Some music is performed by a band and some music is performed solo. There are guitars and drums and pianos. One young girl with long hair, is dressed in everyday school attire. She is closing her eyes and bowing her head as she clasps her guitar in her hand. She seems to be afraid of the passersby, but her voice is not affected by her feelings. Her family sits on a nearby bench, silently supporting and praying for her.

After some time of walking, our eyes are irresistibly pulled into an art display. The painter was classically trained, with light, tones, and images all refined and perfectly blended to evoke emotion and the observer becomes part of the scene. An eagle scout stands in front of a proudly waving flag, a young girl sits on a bench in a garden with her beautiful white dress flowing around her, and a toddler carefully todddles his way through a field of grass that comes higher than his head. This booth stops many who pass by it, and glows as a pearl among other art displays. Maybe it's the display, maybe it's the aroma of the Italian Restaurant nearby, but more likely, it is the care taken to every picture that draws people in. The painter is absent for a brief moment, but the paintings speak for themselves.

Beautiful art is perfectly complemented by mouth-watering aromas as they waft through wide-open restaurants where customers sit and watch people pass as they eat. Some people choose to eat on their feet, getting a heart-shaped funnel cake or Indian fry-bread, or Chicago-style hotdogs at the few food booths. I try to imagine what kind of bead a food booth would get. Would it get a scented bead? Or even a flavored one? We pass a booth promoting women's heart awareness, rubbing shoulders with Mrs. Arizona, and the former Mayor of Gilbert. I should have had salad for dinner. It's more heart healthy.

Mrs. Arizona and our friend Stacy, Cafes and Restaurants

After 90 minutes of strolling up and down Main St, I came home and wrote for an hour and a half, using the business cards and scribbled notes I took while talking. With over 20 booths that made impressions on my mind, one embodied the themes of this experience like the main pendant, the central focus of a necklace.

This booth perfectly displayed the diversity, creativity, and inspiration that was somewhat present in the other booths. It sold wax-preserved roses. It also displayed intricately beaded jewelry and equally beaded lingere. This booth was manned by a man and a woman. The woman stood directly behind the table.

"$5 for these bigger roses, and he can make you a smaller one for $2," she explains. We ask for a $2 one and my husband goes behind the booth to talk to the man at work. They chat together while there is a lull in the rose sales. The woman and I chat about the beautiful jewelry that she has woven together. She is self taught and has been doing it for longer than I've been alive. Her detail and attention shows with each piece. Unfortunately, my wallet is not equipped for such delicately beaded earrings. 

"How did I think of this?" the man beams as he busily wraps the stem of the rose for stability. "Have you ever been to the Renaissance festival?" He then proceeds to describe how there is a certain wax booth that preserves a mold of your hand. " I obviously wanted one, I have a unique hand," he says as he stops his busy work for a moment and displays a three-fingered left hand. I was stunned that I had not noticed that at all. He laughed, "Yeah, I'll have people who can know me for months and they'll say: 'Did that just happen?' Ha ha." He goes on to explain a hot and grueling summer of waxing hands up and down the coast of California. "It just wasn't worth it."

A couple of girls pass the booth as we speak, and comment about needing cash. We watch them find an ATM and return. Out of the four of us, I am the only one who thought they would actually come back.

Wax roses

He continues and describes working at a resort which hosted lots of wedding receptions. "They were throwing away hundreds of roses a day." He then says he put two and two together, and got an idea for preserving fresh roses in wax. "My first rose looks like a blob on the end of a stem," he makes a fist with one of his hands and lets it droop as he describes it to us, "but I have perfected the process," he says as he presents me with a very delicately dipped rose, each of the pedals standing in glorious detail. He has learned to mix spray paint colors to cater to every desire. My rose is a pearly pink on the outside and a warmer pink, almost marroon on the inside. He hands it to me and my husband hands him $2. "I usually have some sort of smell. You can use air freshener or even a couple drops of essential oil, you know, rose smelling, I usualy have some, but I haven't done a booth in a long time," he explains apologetically. I sniff the wax rose and immediately wish I hadn't, however; beauty of the rose makes up for the lack of the fragrance.

The three words I would paint this experience with are: creativity, diversity and inspiration. The creativity comes from within the artisans as they each bring their own individuality to their work. After this experience, I am tempted to look into setting up a booth myself. I figure, if someone can sell cigar boxes as guitars, and "Butt Naked" scented candles, there has got to be something I can do to join this eclectic piece of jewelry that is Friday Night Out on Main Street.