Every year, the Pittsburgh Three Rivers Arts Festival in June creeps up on me and slips right by. It will be mid-summer, full of hot, sticky days and long, lazy nights and I’ll suddenly remember this super cool art festival that the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust hosts every year, 10 days of free concerts, art vendors, and perfect summertime entertainment. I’ll look at my calendar and Google the festival, crossing my fingers I didn’t miss it, only to find that the last day of the festival was two days ago.
So this year, I vowed to go. I put this festival on my 30 Before 30 list and I told myself that I would be crazy to miss the opportunity to go downtown, walk around, admire art, people-watch and enjoy free music. I looked up the artists playing each night, I wrote down the dates, and I told my husband we were going.
I almost missed it again.
And then with three days left to make our way downtown, we were almost deterred by the rain. Pittsburgh has been getting a shit ton of rain lately.
On Saturday, the forecast was iffy. Sometimes it said rain, sometimes it looked like it would clear up. We said screw it, we’re just going to go. Worst case scenario, we get down there and then we turn around and leave.
The rain (sort of) held off and we got to experience the free music, sans umbrellas. We got downtown around 6:30 pm and walked around all the art booths. Every time I experience a gathering of creative people, I am inspired and motivated to be creative myself. I walked past clay pots and blown glass and wooden spoons and impressionist paintings and emerald earrings and I just felt like I needed to make something with my hands. I’m not an artist, so I guess you could consider typing to be doing something with my hands. In a manner of speaking.
I didn’t buy anything, as much as I wanted to, because deep down I am much too practical for that. If I don’t actually need something, it’s hard for me to justify purchasing something just because it’s pretty. But I had a great time gazing longingly at all the things I didn’t need.
After we walked past almost every booth, we found a spot on the dried, flattened grass in front of the stage and spread out our blanket. Luckily most other people were also seated on blankets on the grass – I wasn’t sure if this was a stand-up-and-sway-to-the-music kind of concert or a lay-back-with-your-eyes-closed kind of concert. It was the latter.
Almost immediately after sitting down, I felt like eating something, so I got the only logical fare at a festival – deep fried Oreos.
The band, Mandolin Orange, went on stage at 7:30 pm and played until 9. Jim and I sat quietly, listening, dozing, people-watching, enjoying the drizzly humid summer night.
As I listened to the concert, I couldn’t stop staring at a couple of people in front of me. I know, it’s impolite to stare, but I feel like they knew people would look at them and they didn’t care. At first I just thought they were weird. They were two young teenagers, clearly both identifying in the LGBT community, both in love with each other, and, perhaps most eye-catching of all, not caring one flying fuck what people thought of them. One had an almost-shaved head, the other had short cropped hair, both in nondescript jeans and t-shirts, both barefoot. They were dancing, just the two of them, in the middle of the crowd of concert-goers sitting on the grass. They were feeling the music, moving their bodies, swirling their wrists and hands, waving their arms, and swiveling their hips. Completely at ease with who they were. I loved them for it.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t know many people who can be 100% themselves, particularly in public, and really truly not care what anyone might think. Without the help of alcohol. There aren’t many people who will stand up when everyone is sitting down, who will dance when everyone is staring, who will smile with unabashed joy and ease, knowing that the world doesn’t all agree with the way you dress or look or act.
I felt a tinge of jealousy. Where did they learn this openness and honesty? Where did they get their confidence in the face of ignorance and hatred? When someone inevitably told them they could grow up to be whoever they wanted to be, where did they get their courage to be themselves?
The couple was joined by a few more friends, people who hugged them tightly and loved them for who they were. They eventually sat down and lolled on the grass with the rest of us. Not every song was for dancing. Some songs are for reflecting.
When the concert ended and Jim and I left the crowd, I don’t know which way that couple went. I’m sure they walked hand in hand back to a car in a parking garage. Maybe they’ll comment on the woman 15 feet away who glanced their direction a few too many times. As they make their way home, they probably won’t be free from hateful stereotypes or ignorant politicians or expected gender roles. But they will hopefully remember this as a night they were free to dance and be themselves.
I shouldn’t be surprised that Pittsburgh is a diverse and vibrant and tolerant city. I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve seen the culture and ethnicity and openness that permeates these three rivers. We have our own stereotypes that we’re breaking down – like that of a dirty steel town in the Rust Belt. I’m proud to live here and proud to see events like this that bring all kinds together – all races, genders, ethnicities, cultures, shapes, sizes, backgrounds, faiths, beliefs.
What better place to be reminded of this than the Arts Festival, where the actual purpose is to bring together all kinds of people and their various talents and show them off to the world?