Temporary Art Those elaborate, irreverent works of chalk art you've seen at bars around the city? Meet the guy who makes them (2024)

It was a mind-set Owens couldn't relate to. During art class at Fairfax's W.T. Woodson High School, he had been the student who would take a five-minute drawing exercise and work on it for the entire period. "The teacher was really impressed," he recalls, "but she was like, 'You kind of missed the point.'" His emphasis has been to put as much effort as possible into his creative endeavors -- no matter the shelf life.

So, although other bar managers seemed apathetic about the outdoor signs, Owens, 31, saw an opportunity to stand out. "It popped in my head," he says: "What if I put an insane amount of effort into it?"

When it came time to switch the outdoor board on a spring afternoon in 2008, he let loose: Using Crayola chalk, he spent three hours sketching and shading an intricate depiction of a stag before a blazing sunset with the beckoning word "Open." The intentionally cheesy subject matter was an homage to Bourbon's bartenders, who have matching tattoos of the animal. He proudly set the board atop four barrels outside the bar.

But when Owens returned to work the next afternoon, he was met by a guilt-stricken co-worker. The staff had put the board out again that morning, only to have it fall victim to an unforeseen rainstorm. Once Owens got over his initial disappointment, however, the ruined illustration represented a fresh start. "It was like, 'Oh, well, back to the drawing board,'" he says. Before long, his artwork was a regular fixture along the sidewalks of Adams Morgan.

thers might be frustrated working in the impermanent, fragile medium that is chalk art, but not Owens. "That's what made it special," he says. "The impending doom of it." It's a concept he's familiar with as a bartender: He's used to watching his creations disappear in a few gulps.

Following the demise of the stag illustration, Owens began sketching his next dusty creation behind the bar during slow hours of the day. It was a convincing replica of Grant Wood's "American Gothic" -- except that the heads of the stoic man and woman were replaced by those of a buck and doe. His first work had taken three hours; this one took 15.

Owens unveiled a new piece every month or so, replacing the boards when they became too weathered or smudged by the fingerprints of passersby. Other than taking a few undergraduate classes at George Mason University, he has developed his freehand style by himself. There was "Epic," a rendering of a stag proudly riding bareback on an owl/horse/cobra hybrid framed by the phrase "If you think this is epic, try our co*cktails."

"The Brunching" depicts a child confronted by ominous twin eggs at the end of a long hallway (a nod to "The Shining"). His drawing of the snarling, horned skull featured on the metal band Danzig's 1988 self-titled album solicited the strongest reaction -- one patron sought out Owens at the bar and told him, "I saw that and knew this was the place to go."

Of the eight sidewalk boards he drew for Bourbon, "Epic" is the only one still in use at the bar. Though Owens left for a bartending job at Jaleo in March, Bourbon vice president Stephen King says he'd love to have Owens fashion more chalk work -- but King will have to wait his turn. Other establishments have been approaching Owens about his art.

His freelance work has ranged from a simple board listing pool table rates at Breadsoda in Glover Park to a 4-by-2-foot champagne glass that has served as an elegant bar backdrop at the Gibson since last summer. Currently, he charges $25 to $30 an hour or a flat fee that's agreed upon with each establishment.

He's scheduled to do a board for Pharmacy Bar -- manager Andy Overton wants a beer list with a pharmacy-themed border, but Owens and bartender Mike Dillon are trying to persuade him to opt for a depiction of Dillon fighting a panther instead.

n a sweltering summer afternoon, Owens ambles along the brick P Street sidewalk to Pizzeria Paradiso. Inside the Dupont restaurant's entryway is a 5-by-6-foot rendition of a map of the District as first drawn by Pierre Charles L'Enfant in 1791. A sweeping, sky-blue Potomac frames precise gray D.C. blocks. Small starbursts of color indicate the locations of the three Paradiso restaurants.

Owens pulls a pen from a cardboard box and gives it a quick shake before leaning his face close to the chalkboard wall and adding detail to a circle of laurel. He traces over the same vines multiple times, giving them more depth as he alternates greens and blues. His movements are quick and precise. It's a confidence that comes from knowing that if a line of chalk goes astray, all he needs to do is rub it away with a pencil eraser. Unlike regular soft chalk, chalk pen drawings can't be wiped off as easily. Paradiso bar manager Greg Jasgur got the pens to give Owens's delicate creations more permanence.

Owens has invested 27 hours over two months into this piece, squeezing in an hour or two of work between his evening bartending shifts and raising his 4-year-old son, Elliott, with his partner of six years, Laura Dove. "With this job, I've almost bitten off more than I can chew," Owens says.

Dove, a 41-year-old redhead with sweeping loose curls, has Lyme disease and also suffers from interstitial cystitis, a chronic condition that causes severe pelvic pain. Even though the family has health insurance, her frequent doctor appointments cost $1,000 a month. She works as a waitress at Hank's Oyster Bar twice a week but is usually laid up the following day because of the joint stiffness that comes with Lyme disease. Money is tight, and family time is precious. "It's been really debilitating, so it takes up a huge chunk of time. If it weren't for Patrick ..." she says with a pause. "It's definitely difficult to take care of somebody who's chronically ill."

The couple usually catches up after Owens's bartending hours. Depending on his shift, he'll get back to their Springfield home between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. Dove, who goes to sleep after tucking in Elliott at 7:30 p.m., wakes up to spend a few hours chatting with Owens or watching a recorded episode of "Top Chef." Most days, the family can be found on the floor of Elliott's playroom around 11 a.m. before Owens heads to work in the early afternoon.

bout 3:40 p.m., after more retouching at Paradiso, Owens heads for his bartending shift at Jaleo in Penn Quarter. Unlike at Bourbon, there's no downtime for artistry here. Sangria needs to be served; gin and tonics stirred.

He wonders where his chalk side gig might lead. He'd like to do more elaborate pieces and exhibit them at Artomatic. "I'd make actual paintings, but in chalk," he says. "I'd put glass over it, but offset it maybe an eighth of an inch so it's not touching the chalk."

The same mix of ingenuity and attention to detail that makes Owens a talented chalk artist is evident in his creative bartending. "I have a great respect for co*cktails, precise measurements, making everything just so," he says.

He stacks five ice cubes in a thin, tall glass; fills it three-quarters of the way with a mix of bourbon, Campari, lime juice and his homemade spiced-date syrup; tops it off with sparkling water; gives it a stir, and adds a slice of lime and a sprinkling of sea salt. The frothy, pink libation -- refreshingly light, with a lingering kick from the spiced dates -- is called "A Hot Date With a Matador." It's another delicate, transient masterpiece dreamed up by Owens ... and in a matter of minutes, it's gone.

Kris Coronado is a frequent contributor to the Magazine. She can be reached at wpmagazine@washpost.com.