Celebration of PeaceWorks KC Art Fair

Note: Photographer Jim Hannah offered these heartfelt reflections March 9 at the PeaceWorks Annual Meeting in KC MO. The slide show at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi8o38JSZCI has 20 photos taken earlier, by persons other than JIm, and then 48 photos by Jim from about the last 10 years.

You youngsters here may not relate to this, but as I approach my 78th birthday this month, I find myself going to an increasing number of funerals. Just using the term “funerals” dates me—today they’re mostly called “celebrations of life.” They’re a lot shorter than they used to be, with no lengthy sermon or altar call.

As we’ve just been reminded, there’s been a death in our PeaceWorks family. At age 32, our annual Art Fair has folded its tents, unable to recover from the COVID pandemic five years ago, and its continued decline in more recent years. It’s time for its celebration of life.

Because it’s been my joy to photograph the art fair for more than a decade, Jane has asked that I share a few of those images, and offer some accompanying remarks—all in 6 minutes or less, of course, editor that she is!  So as I offer my remarks, we’ll be viewing the “Top 50” images, each on screen for about six seconds.

When I attend a celebration of life, I often find myself asking what is the measure of a person, or in this case, the measure of an event? What difference did that life make? And what legacy has it left?

I know firsthand that the Art Fair impacted scores of volunteers. I’m one. I have an abiding sense of satisfaction as I reflect on my years of involvement. Partly it’s because I knew that our fair was PeaceWorks’ primary fundraiser, and those funds went to support justice and peace efforts both local and national, from Poor People’s Campaign here in KC to nuclear abolition lobbying in Washington, DC. We at the art fair also offered street theater, poetry readings, music, and tables by a host of justice and peace groups.

It was fabulous!

In the face of very discouraging news in these fraught times, the Art Fair en-couraged me, lifting my spirits as I witnessed so many good people rally for such a good cause, doing so in a peaceful demonstration of what it means to be caring members of the human family. As we’re blasted daily by megaphones of fear and negativity, the art fair was one way to make a positive impact of justice and peace. I remember the idyllic fall days with tents lined up and crowd of folks celebrating art and artists; I also remember thunderstorms that collapsed tents but brought out the best in people as we supported each other in meeting the challenge.

Beyond the volunteers, hundreds of artists through the years are also part of the art fair’s legacy. Here was a place to display and sell their artwork, build community, and help underwrite their creative endeavors.

The public also benefitted from the art fair. Hundreds of paintings are beautifying homes, handcrafted pottery is finding daily use, and portable art is being worn as scarves, jewelry, T-shirts, and such.

In time we matured from identifying ourselves as the “UN-Plaza Art Fair” to claim our own identity as “PeaceWorks KC Local Art Fair,” offering quality, affordable local art. In a peak year, we hosted 130 artists, with sales of more than $100,000.

It’s a great sadness to me that in a time when art, truth, and freedom of expression are under assault in our nation, we say farewell to the fair. I lament that demise, much as I lamented the untimely death of our dear PeaceWorks friend and fearless activist, Lu Mountenay.

Yet I know that her efforts to secure a more peaceful, verdant world for her grandchildren and their children continue to ripple in an ever-widening circle felt by us here, and flowing outward toward a day of universal justice and peace.

The spirit of compassion that moved Lu yet moves through us, both in memory and in the eternal energy of Love. So I want to close by reading a poem written by Lu some 20 years ago.

Do It All Over Again

When I was a child, I could traverse  
from one end of my universe  
to the other … In just a few seconds I could do it  
and then  
do it all over again.

I would sit in my long-roped swing  
and from complete inertia … push off from the ground, 
lean back and then with high, high hopes,  
pull on the ropes,  
thrust my feet out in front of me and  
accelerate into the pendular arc,  
inconsequential, the movement at first,  
and then with each new pull, I am launched into liberty.  
What magic is this that takes me higher and higher with each draw, 
even though they are all about the same?

The branch creaks under my weight,  
but in my child’s mind I imagine that it doesn’t distress the tree  
it seems to comprehend the delight of my flight.  
Higher and farther  
The full force of gravity keeps the rope tight.

Then it happens, the summit is breached  
the rope slackens and the swing falls free for a moment or two  
I am jerked back into earth’s atmosphere of reality  
The following orbits are partially torqued  
When I get it under control, I think I’ll 
do it all over again.

… May these words of Lu en-courage us to “do it all over again,” finding ways to keep alive the spirit of art, and renew our commitment to embody our motto: PEACE WORKS.