ArtNight, Nov. 14, 2022 (Photo – Jayme Filippini)
I have worked ArtNight Pasadena as a docent for a number of years, sometimes helping out patrons on sites, more often on buses.
By Toti O’Brien
Last Friday, October 14th, I was on a bus running the Central Route, which connects venues mostly located—as expected—in the middle of town. A long route, with many places to go, many people to bring from one to the other.
As a docent, I am in the front of the bus, either facing the patrons with whom I interact or else looking at the road—my back momentarily turned to the crowd—in order to check the itinerary, spot venues at a distance, see how large is the group that needs boarding as I calculate the seats still available.
It is mainly with my back that I feel the surrounding atmosphere. As a life-long immigrant in more than one country, struggling with new languages and codes of conduct, I have become a sort of antenna for collective moods. They impact my body and tell me how to react, before I rationally analyze them.
Friday, since the first patron boards the bus—a few minutes before the official start of the event—I realize something is different. No surprise. Since COVID, everything has changed in the way we socialize, has it?
The tone of the evening
This young lady has decided to go to the Gamble House. Kindly, I explain the venue of her choice is quite down the line. We will get there eventually, after a relatively long tour. She says she doesn’t care. As we progress, I tell her a bit about each place we stop by, hoping she might get interested and decide to alight. She does not, but she takes great interest in my description, as if I were offering her a personal, special tour of town. She asks questions, listens carefully, integrates the information by reading the brochure, all while looking very entertained and pleased. She is in no rush at all. When she gets to her destination, I wish her a nice evening and she warmly does the same. I say, “who knows, you could board the same bus and we’d meet again,” as a way to be courteous. She says she looks forward to it. I wonder if anyone, ever, was so nice to me during ArtNight…
Well, that sets the tone of the evening! All patrons have been kind and radiant and wonderful, but that isn’t the point. The point, as I was saying, is what my back felt when I wasn’t speaking to them, and I heard them interact.
From previous events, I expected silence (as usual on public transportation) that I would fill with as much info as possible about the kaleidoscopic variety of things to be enjoyed and explored. This time, people’s conversations created a constant background. They never ceased, at the point I felt self-conscious whenever I had to announce the next stop. Each time, I felt like saying, “Sorry for interrupting you.” Did I actually say it, once or twice? I smiled widely in order to capture attention, fearing some would miss their targeted venue and just stay on the bus—because it was so much fun.
Pumpkin succulent planters at Pasadena City Hall (Photo – Jayme Filippini)
Conviviality: It felt like a party
Patrons never stopped chatting in the most pleasant ways. Besides exchanging excited comments about what they just saw, they just made (many venues offered hand-on art activities), they were actually telling the stories of their lives—what they did, where they lived, where they studied, what their hobbies were—of course finding all sort of happy coincidences.
Something about it was almost… surreal… I don’t think I had experienced it before, and I work with “the public” a lot. Conviviality is a pale term for describing the ambiance. Yes, it felt like a party, and so very joyful!
There were many, many children, their hands full with all sort of crafts, their hair, dresses, faces decorated with this flower wreath, that feathered mask, their mouth smudged with ice cream or marshmallow—and that certainly helped. Smell from the food trucks was festive—and that helped.
But the adults transpired delight and enthusiasm just as the children did—plus, as I said, this marvelous, newborn social grace, this sharing, communal attitude.
When the last group alighted at City Hall, everyone thanked me. One by one, they turned, looked at me and thanked me for the night. As if I were the host who had invited them to a very, very, very nice celebration. I wasn’t the host. The town threw the party, and the inhabitants’ post-pandemic, sweet, lovely mood made it wonderful.
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