Art for sale under the freeway
Microeconomics emerge on the edges of a battered city
Micro-economies are popping up on Northwest Portland streets where people hock random stuff on a corner. Come-and-get-it commerce.
A mortgage broker, Josh Leake, sold shelves of books, T-shirts and belts he bought from the surplus section at a Target store, all laid out on Marshall Street recently. I bought an I Love Portland T-shirt for 10 bucks from a different rack.
“A lot of people walk on this street,” Leake said adding that a City employee came by and asked him for a permit to sell here. “I just laughed in their face,” he said, considering the drug use that goes on with no visible enforcement. Less funny, Leake shared how the day before a man came up and shot a gun up at one of the windows.
On Northwest Overton Street, John Moreno flashed me a peace sign as I drove by on Sunday. I pulled over and walked up. He was drinking a beer and wearing a black trucker cap that read SECURITY, a pair of dirty Crocs on his feet.
I’m overwhelmed by the homeless crisis in Portland. Fatigued and burned out. No hot takes or solutions, just sad anecdotes. I saw a shoplifter shoved to the ground by Safeway security yesterday and heard her land with a thud. A friend showed me the knife he carries in his pocket.
And yet people like John are becoming the neighbors I think about. John seemed like an OK guy, and I liked the colors in the obsessive paintings around him. Most looked like blown paint on particle board and wood scraps.
“Which one you like?” he asked. “My lady, Twyla Nicholson, made them. Do me a favor and send her the pictures you take because I don’t have a phone,” he said, taking credit for adding the lacquer sheen to the paintings.
“How much for this one,” I asked, ignoring his request.
He assessed my clothes and said $10. I told him I’d walk to Safeway and be back with his money. As I walked away, he yelled, “You’re one of the few are far between, you know that?!”
I bought two cans of soda at Safeway and walked back, handing him the grape one and a tenner.
John launched into a disjointed plan to attach clock parts to each painting, told me he was from California and that his truck was broken down under the freeway.
“I’m doing this for Twyla. I’m her caretaker, and I love her so much,” he said, starting to weep.
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