An Artist Versus Amoco
The wall at the rear of the Amoco station on the far eastern edge of Oak Park was streaked with graffiti. So station co-owner Johnnie Mason brought in artist Tia Jones to cover the wall with a mural, and things haven’t been the same since.
“They don’t understand the way an artist works–they don’t understand the hard work and preparation I put into this mural,” says Jones. “I didn’t just come out there and slap some paint on a wall. They don’t understand that lightning can’t strike twice.”
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
She moved into a village-owned two-flat on Harrison just west of Austin Boulevard, and opened the Whatever Comes to Mind gallery. Her early days were a struggle. Her work (jewelry, paintings, drawings, sculpture, and puppets) was well received, but the world had a hard heart for the unknown. Even Oak Park, open-minded and cosmopolitan by its own definition, was provincial in a way. Art lovers rarely made it to the east side, and those who came didn’t have much money to spend. For a long time she had to work at a grocery store to pay her bills.
“Tia’s a good person to have in the neighborhood,” says Helen Hardimon, Johnnie Mason’s sister and the other owner of the gas station, which is just across the street from Jones’s gallery. “I’m glad she’s here.”
Mason says he finds nothing offensive about the mural, and that he’s only following company policy. “The Amoco sales rep told me it had to come down because the wall’s peeling,” says Mason. “It’s nothing against the artist. I like the work. She can come back and paint it again if she wants.”
These fund-raisers have become an annual ritual for Kamen–an eloquent expression of his unceasing, almost maniacal dedication to Roosevelt and its students. It goes beyond the rims, uniforms, TV cameras, and scholarships he’s purchased. Or the school games he attends (all sports, both sexes), or his endless noodginess. It’s his heartfelt conviction that no spirit is as transforming as the pride and love one has for one’s school. “If you believe in your school you can believe in yourself,” he says.
After hearing endless analysis of such things as who’s bringing the soda pop, Weincord could take no more. “Arnie, I love you,” he blurted, “but how many times are you gonna tell us where you’re putting the tables?”
