All day long, a puffy white sky threatened to wash out Alex Sanchez’s handiwork, but the Sullivan High School junior kept at it. Standing on a milk crate, he stretched above the other kids working on the Keith Haring mural in Grant Park, a thin paintbrush in his hand making little green crosses.
He stepped back, proudly admiring his work. A group of peers gathered around him, considering the meaning of his effort.
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“But who wants to be controlled?” asked Alex. He propped his skateboard on its side and sat right on the edge. “And if somebody controls it, doesn’t that defeat the whole idea of anarchy?”
“He was young, he was new,” David said, warming up to his subject. “That’s what we need–one person with a good heart, good ideas, imagination.”
Alex laughed. “Hey, that’s right. If you’re grouchy one day, then you can ruin it for everybody.”
“My goal in life isn’t money, it’s not even peace,” David said. “It’s a painting that will do one of three things–drive a man crazy, drive a man to his death, or make him turn to his neighbor and say, ‘Hey, how you doing?’”
