Lauren Houser
As someone who grew up in Ann Arbor, if you asked me to describe Art Fair in a single image, I would say: A white vendor tent, blowing end over end like a tumbleweed down Main St., thunder roaring overhead, rain pouring diagonally, while a Stucchi’s ice cream cone melts in my hand.
Of course, everyone’s lived experience is different. We polled other Observer staff on their thoughts:
- “A gorgeous piece of glass art so expensive you’re afraid to take it out of the box.” John
Hilton, editor emeritus - “Temperatures reaching above 95 degrees.” Tabi Walters, senior designer
- “A guy wearing shorts with white sneakers and black socks.” Michael Bright, Nightspots editor
- “A family of six walking six wide.” Sai Nuñez, graphic designer
- “It’s not technically Art Fair unless there’s a massive and unexpected thunderstorm followed by humidity so thick you could cut it with a piece of art on a stick.” Amy Sumerton, deputy editor
Like many beloved cultural institutions, Art Fair inspires a mix of appreciation, vigilance, irritation, dread, and anticipation from those lucky enough to have experienced it. Certain things have a tendency to repeat. Patterns emerge. So naturally, the event lends itself well to that storied pattern-noticing game, bingo.
Much like agriculture and the wheel, Art Fair Bingo is such a useful invention that it has been created many times, by different people in different contexts. “I feel like everyone’s heard of it,” says Ben Connor Barrie, creator of the Damn Arbor blog, which has documented Art Fair Bingo over the years. “But no one exactly knows where it came from—it’s almost like an urban legend, or folklore.”
Flashback: The Power of the Blog (June 2013)
Some people swear they saw cards in old issues of Current magazine; others claim it was first created as a playable game in 1998 by Tanya the Blast-Off Girl on WCBN. One early, hand-drawn card, dated 1999, credits Tanya with the original idea and includes such squares as “Goths in Sunlight,” “Overpriced Coathanger Bendings,” “Gigantic Art on a Stick,” and “Murderous Townies.”
One thing’s for sure: Ann Arbor’s zine culture played a role. “Someone would drop a stack of zines in front of Urban Outfitters,” recalls local comic artist Jonathan Bearup. “That’s the first place I ever saw a bingo card.” (An anchor of State St. throughout the 1990s, the downtown Urban Outfitters closed in 2020. The space is now home to Target.)
“It goes back to a time when Ann Arbor was a little bit less polished … there was more local ephemera,” says Connor Barrie. “There was fun in that grittiness. Finding Art Fair Bingo felt like you were in on the joke.”
As the millennium came and went, zines moved out and the internet—specifically LiveJournal—moved in. The Ann Arbor–Ypsi LiveJournal Community was a lively gathering space for creative townies around the turn of the millennium. “A ton of us art townies from Ann Arbor and Ypsi were sharing our stuff [there],” writes Bearup.
On June 18, 2004, nestled between posts advertising bedrooms on the west side renting for $450, promos for “Ann Arbor’s Most Exclusionary Dance Party,” and various individuals looking to either acquire or dispose of a couch, a local web developer named Christopher Herdt wrote: “Middle-aged women from all over Michigan stop by our nice little ‘burg and wear stupid visors and buy $50 art-on-a-stick. Ann Arbor must suffer, but we can still have fun with it, thanks to Art Fair Bingo.”
Herdt was proposing a collaborative art project: “For example, you might draw someone hawking bottled water for $4.00 and the caption could be ‘Crimes Against Humanity.’ Or you might draw someone with one of those Sharper Image personal AC units around their neck and the caption could be ‘Silly Yuppie Gadgets.’”
The locals were excited to hop aboard. Wrote user mrrranda: “‘Greasy Treats Fried in Freaky Grease’ needs to be on there, right?”
The eventual card included options like “Tootin’ Peruvians,” “Art on a Stick,” and “Kid on a Leash.” Bearup contributed such squares as “Emo Kid Street Performer” and “Glassy-Eyed Hippie Selling Glasswares.”
“Rereading some of them is kind of cringe. Very much humor of ages past,” he laughs. “I still stand by ‘Overpriced What-The-Hell,’ though.”
The digital seeds firmly planted, Art Fair Bingo continues to pop up like spring flowers across the internet. About half a dozen cards have appeared over the years, available for viewing on Damn Arbor and elsewhere. As the internet continues to evolve, Reddit has emerged as a staging ground for new Art Fair Bingo collaborations. The historical value can’t be overstated: The 2020 Art Fair Bingo card, posted on r/AnnArbor, has every square as “Free Space: No Art Fair.” One recent card is told from the perspective of the vendors themselves, via annoying questions that customers ask: You did ALL of these? Is this your best price? My granddaughter does this. I’m just looking. I’ll be back.
Regardless of its origins, the persistence of Art Fair Bingo over the years speaks to the enduring relationship Ann Arborites have to Art Fair. Like an annoying younger sibling, you love them, but they’re noisy; they get all the attention; they leave messes that they don’t clean up; they steal your parking.
“I think all townies sort of have a love-hate relationship with the Art Fair because—well, it’s inconvenient,” says Connor Barrie. “But, at the same time, it’s really good for the downtown businesses. You’re getting to share the city with a lot of people. It’s a good-hearted way to have a spirit of laughter about the annoyances and silliness of Art Fair.”
One thing’s for sure: Whatever the future holds, art on a stick will always be there.
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