For two years, my granddaughter paid little attention to the mural on the Northside Marketplace parking lot, right in front of my loft. This young lady can detect a missing game piece from across the room, but apparently an asphalt masterpiece outside my window — not so much.
Yet Abby Dadich and her mother, my daughter, Kelly VanNatten, volunteered with me on a Saturday morning in early April to repaint asphalt art.
When I read the call to bring back the Northside Green Mural — originally painted by artist April Couch then wiped clean by fresh pavement — I raised my hand.
And lowered my knees. And summoned two generations of reinforcements. Paint warriors. Art enthusiasts.
Kelly, the good daughter she is, responded with the enthusiasm of a toothpick: “I agreed to volunteer because my mother roped me into the project. … She wasn’t sure she could be on her knees painting for three hours in the hot sun.”
I definitely could not be on my knees for three hours in the hot sun, but I did carry water and hold a sunbrella.
After two hours of painting hot pink circles, ovals and swirls, Abby — covered in streaks of fuchsia, a vivid purple and red-colored tubular flower — stood up and made an announcement worthy of a teacher’s pep talk.
“I have invested a couple of hours in the heat on my knees and I’m covered in paint,” she declared. “I will most definitely take pride in my effort and remember this experience every time I visit the Northside Lofts and my grandmother, aka, ‘Swoozie.’”
Other volunteers joined our mural makeover under the guidance of Lauren Lienhart from Downtown Akron Partnership and Rose Vance-Grom, who somehow managed to coordinate our efforts without once screaming into an empty paint can.
Maryanne Stone brought along a dream team of locals: Delain Reynolds, Ruth Edge and Karen Bland. All determined to color inside the lines.
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Bland joined us because she thought it sounded fun. “I never even knew this mural existed, and I’ve stood in line here many times waiting for a table at Luigi’s.”
Apparently, the aroma of garlic bread is strong enough to obscure public art.
Reynolds got her invite in the form of a midnight email.
“Hang out with the girls at Northside to help repaint the mural.”
Edge — who teaches at the Summit County Juvenile Detention Center — said she’s all about “community, giving back, bringing people together to celebrate and become one big circle.”
Which is coincidentally what we were painting. Big circles.
Almost everyone admitted they had stood outside Luigi’s dozens of times, waiting for a table and never noticing the pavement mural.
They’ll notice it now.
Including my granddaughter. Abby might misplace her car keys, but she’ll remember this mural.