People Of The Streets
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rt in itself is unconventional. The desire to utilize the creative functions of the mind without inhibition has a powerful draw. With blended motivations of expression, income and engagement, Miles Christenson (23) and Ryan Da Lion (25) take to the streets to sell their wares. Whether it be on Temple University’s Main Campus where Miles is a junior Marketing major, the thriving scene of Old City’s First Friday where artists conglomerate, or really anywhere with foot traffic and a friendly disposition, the’ll set out their art for sale, sit back and wait. The process is simple. One: scout out the location – one where the artists can merely exist as a function of the street, hundreds of eyes will scan the merchandise and most importantly, the cops will just keep on walking. “I know the spot,” Ryan offered, tossing his head in both directions as the pair emerged from the Broad Street line in the middle of a Wednesday lunch rush. “I’ve never been kicked off Chestnut Street.” There was a slight breeze about the 1500 block, where welcome springtime sunshine bounced off high-rise buildings and illuminated the street in a soft, diffused glow. Nestled in the shade of a vacant storefront belonging to the Stouffer’s building, Miles and Ryan began to lie out their most recent project, recycled vinyl art.
Two: engage – As the artists establish their presence on the street, they immediately begin to change the dynamic of the public space. As the hours winded on, and the falling sunlight was refracted about the sidewalk like a shattered sundial, Miles and Ryan remained a fixture on the sidewalk, and as Miles describes, “a chance for people to stop and exist for a moment.” “Even if someone just smiles, that makes me happy,” he said, describing the incentive to be out on display. It’s the physical interaction however, that makes the hours worthwhile. “I like to see people grab it, I like to see what people see in it because nobody ever sees what I see,” Miles said. “It helps me become a better artist because you actually know there is a third party person that loves what you do and gets a feeling from it. That feels really good. Most people spend their lives second guessing themselves and being self-conscious but when people come up to check out the art, it makes you feel good.”
“I can see someone walking down the block but they can’t see us. They’ve got their hands in their pockets, looking at the ground, no expression on their face; just thinking like a normal person would walking down the street. Where am I going? What am I going to do? What’s the next plan. And then you just see their eyes open up, and you can see them look brighter because there is something that caught their eye, and it’s usually art. It gets their brain moving, and they are interested. I can see people’s steps actually change. They’re on ns e not walking so somber and zombiet is hr like, they might have a little skip.” sC
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fixed spectrum of spray painted vinyl records created a stark contrast to the bustling street where they set up camp. “I got my hands on a lot of records so I was just wanted to try something different,” Ryan, a seasoned street vendor, said of the display lining the sidewalk. In the past, he has sustained a living through selling mix tapes, photographs and most commonly, canvas paintings.
ome days I’ll make more than people who are working in these office buildings, especially in the summer. I’m usually selling a lot of art every day, and painting non-stop,” Ryan said. “At times, it really isn’t that bad. At times, it ends up being really lucrative and really fun. At other times it can be really tough, hard to make it and hard to get by. It just depends, it’s hit or miss.”
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hough Ryan has spent only two out of the past seven years with a steady residence, he has never once slept on the street; a feat he attributes to good luck and the self-proclaimed rank of “Professional Couch Surfer”. Rather than homeless, Ryan considers himself “home free”. For sustenance, he treats his art as a full time job, spending approximately 40 hours on the street each week. “I’ve been making money off my artistic abilities for a long time in different ways, but I have been selling my art on the street for three years.” Between bartering paintings for food and supplies, and making healthy sales, selling art is currently Ryan’s sole means of income.
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iles has more recently joined the game of selling art on the streets, after meeting and developing a friendship with Ryan. He plans to use his Business School education to pursue a longstanding passion - to cultivate relationships between the mediums of music, art and dance. In the past two months, getting out on the street for 10-20 hours a week has been a means of expression and finding inspiration.
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he street is without regulation, and an opportunity to operate in his own world, Miles says. It’s about the interaction, and the ability to exchange emotions with strangers, “Why not take the time to look at it? You don’t have to buy it, we’re not pressuring anyone. This is a library as well, you can just view and put it back if you want.” And of course, the money can’t hurt. For Miles however, sitting out on the sidewalk, surrounded by the aroma of spray paint and smiling eyes is the experience, and the payment is a means to keep creating. “The only way I can continue to do more art is if I sell art. When people buy my art, it feeds myself to do more - and I’m really poor so I can’t sell my real money on lovely things like making art,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s inspiration.”
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his is proclaiming that this is me, this is what I do and I’m not afraid to show it,” Miles said. “Which, feels good. I spent a big part of my life in high school not being open about what I like and what I love. Being open and free is just drawing other people to come in and feed me to continue to be that way. You meet other people that are either inspired by you or share the same love for art.”
A series by; Brianna Spause