Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Jessica Ashley, Kay Shopinski, and Jacquie Peters, coloring away
At Urban Chestnut’s bierhall in The Grove, people are lining up to get their…crayons. Tonight’s design is a romantic meal: candles, wineglasses, something that looks like rosemary chicken… Most people begin with the roses, although one woman has blackened her spaghetti.
“It’s nice to get away from screens,” says Rebecca Lozano, a computer science student. “It calms you down. I think it focuses a different part of your brain, a part that might be sitting there worrying.”
Her sister Rachel Lozano nods—and ought to know, because she’s an art therapist. Cutting people loose to color in a pub is not, she’s careful to point out, art therapy. But “a therapist might suggest it as a mindfulness technique, if her client were looking for ways to relax.”
And many people are. When I checked Amazon, five of the 10 bestsellers were coloring books.
“I’ve got a stack of them at home,” Jenny Kretchmar says, “but this is my first time coming out to publicly color.”
“Do you have mandalas?” I ask, because people keep mentioning them.
“Mine are floral.”
“I would probably go for architectural,” muses her friend Shannon Hoelscher.
“Especially as an adult,” Jenny says, “I don’t think you get a lot of chances to be creative.”
“What do you do for a living?” I ask.
“I’m an auto claims adjuster. I need to get in all the coloring I can!”
The women trade colored pencils, digging in Shannon’s bag. “I went to school for art,” Shannon says, “so I have all these supplies just waiting to be used.”
And her job? “I’m unemployed right now—because I went to school for art.”
Jenny’s boyfriend, Matt Mount, joins them. He watches with a smile as Jenny deepens her magenta. “My food’s gonna look like the food in Hook,” she announces, “when they’re throwing all that bright-colored food around?”
“So you only get that one piece of paper?” Matt asks.
“We thought we could handle it,” Shannon says drily.
Her friend Brad Glotfelty grins: “It’s not a huge commitment.”
That, in fact, is the secret. You’re just doing what you did when you were 5—with better fine motor skills—and the only decisions you have to make are pencil or crayon, which shade, how bright. Soon, there are pools of silence around the bierhall as people’s heads bend over the pages, minds drifting far from distractions, chores, anxieties.
The craze is nationwide, but Jessica Leitch made it a local phenomenon. She’d heard about small groups of girlfriends getting together at somebody’s house and thought, “What about getting local artists to do the designs and then coloring them in a place where we could drink beer?”
When she first emailed Urban Chestnut, she said, “Maybe 20 to 40 people. If we could have two tables, that would be great.” Then 300 people signed up. She just launched a second Coloring Club in Minneapolis and plans to expand to Kansas City, Chicago, and Nashville. But she’s keeping it simple, because that’s the joy of it. Sign up on Facebook, pay $5, grab some crayons and beer. You’re set for the night.
Peering over people’s shoulders, I hear myself bubble, “That looks really great!” Brian Ho, an anesthetist, half-turns. “I’m just going wherever my mind takes me,” he says—not trying to win approval. I ease away, then spot Peggy Shamleffer and stop cold. She’s a CPA and does my taxes and groans because I’m not methodical and tidy. This is like running into your minister at an AA meeting.
“I color,” Peggy says. “I do color. I have my book at home. It’s very calming. And not being artistic, you can create something that looks really nice, because it’s already drawn out.”
“Like paint-by-number?”
“Yeah, but paint-by-number can get kind of messy.”
At another table, Leslie Silkwood is using a gorgeous purple on her wineglass. “Well, I love red wine,” she says. “And it’s a tricolor pasta, we decided. And this is a garden variety salad, so you have some maple leaves.” She giggles. “I corralled him to come with me,” she says, nodding at husband Roy Silkwood. “I think it’s harder for guys to let go and relax.”
“That’s probably true,” Roy says. “Although this could be a 4-by-4 and motorcycles, and I wouldn’t mind painting that so much. I’m painting flowers and pieces of chicken.”
“But you’re a foodie!” Leslie protests.
He shrugs: “I don’t really mind. It’s kind of mesmerizing.”
My husband colored, I tell him. Years ago, when he had a really stressful job, he borrowed my colored pencils and spent evenings shading the planes and ships in kids’ books into something remarkably sophisticated. I…worried about him.
“It gives you some control,” Leslie explains now, “and the world’s so chaotic.”
She’s chosen pencil because “it’s slightly more laborious. Markers are too easy, and crayons aren’t precise enough, although I like the twisty crayons,” she adds idly, “the ones that are almost like a mechanical pencil.” She’s been talking as she colors, but now she looks up. “I think people are just so fed up with their stressful lives.”
