Holy hot! We set up my vendor booth in sweltering 90 degree weather Friday night in Maplewood, sun setting right in front of our space. And even with sweat pouring down me, I knew this was going to be a special evening. And it absolutely was.

This was my second occasion getting to be a part of Let Them Eat Art, a Bastille Day celebration held in the beautiful Maplewood neighborhood in Saint Louis. My inaugural year was 2019 and I was paired with Larder & Cupboard, a now-mobile “purveyor of tasty things” that was once in a storefront on Manchester. It was an incredible experience: I got to meet STL folks I’d only seen and interacted with in the pseudo-community of Instagram, sold more artwork that I ever expected, and realized then that LTEA was an experience I wanted to be a part of every year, if I had my way.

Well, no one got their way in 2020. After being selected to participate, organizers cancelled LTEA 2020 and I’m glad; the pandemic was raging with no end or vaccine in sight. I also would have been running my booth two months postpartum and I was still looking real, real rough. Having a baby is no joke.

Which now brings us to the sunnier side of the street, where 2021 Boulevard meets the intersection of Pfizer and Moderna, and the world is looking a whole lot brighter. And after a hiatus due to Covid and new motherhood, I was — and am — eager to get back in the community, participating in events such as these.

For my art demonstration this year, I decided to do quick portraits (for free!) for whomever wanted one. I ended up doing 30 portraits (about 36-38 faces) in a span of 3 hours! I was confident I’d be able to do it but I had no idea how well it would be received. It was wonderful getting to know the people sitting across from me, learning their names and a little bit about themselves while I studied their face(s). It’s a strangely intimate experience, drawing someone. Sometimes the awkward pall stayed there the entire time I was drawing, but, more often than not, the sitter relaxed and focused either on me or past me. I think it shows in their portraits: the ones who embraced the experience for what it was. Many said they had never sat for a portrait or been drawn before, which I would imagine is a common trait among most folks who never sat through studio art classes. Aside from a couple sitters (pictures missing due to 1. User Error and 2. Nighttime), everyone I drew is pictured in the gallery below.

Each sitter went home with their own portrait and I got the glow of making someone happy. “It’s like you drew the best parts of me,” one sitter observed after her portrait was complete. That comment will stay with me a while. It was very sweet of her to say.

The evening ended in a flurry as LTEA organizers came by to inform everyone they had about 40 minutes to clear out before a massive Midwest storm hit. We saw lightning steadily approach the area as we triaged which boxes to get to the car first (the ones with the paper products, of course.) Shoving everything hastily in my car, we barely escaped the rain through tear-down. Ellen and I gritted our teeth and drove slowly down Highway 40 as weighty raindrops and hail pelted my old 2008 Hyundai Tucson. The sound of the hail hitting the roof and windshield made me think it was over for Oberon (that’s my car, he’s pleased to make your acquaintance.) And yet, somehow, we got through it unscathed.

“Jillian, you’re driving a tank,” Ellen remarked as we inspected Oberon when we arrived at Gingham’s for our post-LTEA tradition of diner food. She was right and I was very grateful. Oberon lives on.

Endless thanks to everyone involved in Let Them Eat Art, an amazing, sprawling festival that I’m certain takes many hands, minds, and steely resolves to make happen. They made the tough call of shutting down early due to the weather, too. I’m very grateful for that call as it saved my artwork, my tent, and my butt.