psemme

Plein air notarizing

Over a couple weeks in April, I took advantage of my temporary residence in Redondo Beach, CA to try something new. Rather than set appointments and interact with people individually on a scheduled basis, I tried a more ad hoc approach and set up a public “notarizing” station.

I bought a round, 36″ diameter, stand-up table, printed a handful of custom postcards, had fun designing a custom ink stamp that said “Witnessed” and set off for the Hermosa Beach Pier in search of humans in need of verification.

I had a sign that read

“Get written proof that you were actually here.”

I didn’t think I would get anyone’s attention with something more conceptual, like, “get your existence notarized”, so I settled on an act of witnessing that verified your physical presence in a specific location, at a specific date/time – which I concluded was a good definition of existence.

In the end, no one read the sign anyway.

I’m not sure what the exact motivation was since it’s really not in my nature to put myself out there and meet strangers on the street. But something about the idea of interacting with people about this whole notarism concept, versus sitting at home pondering, got me off the couch and out the door.

I picked a weekday, Wednesday. It was a beautiful sunny, southern CA day and the foot traffic where I set up was decent. I stationed myself down by the beach, just east of the Strand, where people were strolling, running, biking, skateboarding, shuffling, etc. I stood out in my orange t-shirt, which had the word “Notarist” printed prominently on it.

What did you get if you stopped by? A white, 5×7 postcard with the title “Hermosa Beach” printed in the upper left corner with the actual latitude, longitude of my table included beneath it (33.8617, -118.4016 for those interested). The act of notarization was simple but intentionally slightly “official” too.

I would hand you this postcard, offer you a selection of colored pens and invite you to write your first name, or alternatively, anything at all, written or drawn. This was the “witnessed act” after which I would sign my name with the exact date and time below.

Next, I used my custom stamp to imprint, in bright red, the word “Witnessed” in the upper right corner. The stamp’s image had a clever oval, empty spot where I also wrote in the date.

Following that I would ask how many punch holes (star shaped) you wanted punched in your card (the record was 14) as, sort of, physical deformation of the up-till-now perfectly intact paper. And finally I bent the upper left corner down, a Notarist’s bookmark, in a final act of the performance.

Below is an example I did for myself to show others.

In the beginning, after I set everything up, I took a deep breath and waited. How long would I be standing here looking awkward. Turned out to be not that long actually.

My first notaree was a young woman, named Diana, who, as it turns out, was the archetype for most of the other people who stopped by – outgoing, friendly, curious, open-minded. I didn’t need to spend much time explaining. She “got it” quickly and appreciated the in-person, no digital/purely analog interaction.

Seven minutes later, a woman named Reyes came by and received her card followed by a young, extremely drunk, homeless(?) man, named Dante, who graciously received his card and carried it around, brandishing it to others on the boardwalk. I saw him an hour later still carrying it.

All in all, I notarized 15 people that first day and went home feeling good – like I connected with people in a meaningful way. But more, I felt like I wasn’t crazy.

Two weeks later, I repeated the setup, this time on a Saturday, and notarized another 15 people over the course of 90 mins. Again, I went home feeling gratified and feeling good about the quality of the interactions.

I wish I could say I that this experiment revealed some deep, hitherto under appreciated, aspect of human nature and how Notarism was the obvious, best response. But it didn’t. Part of this desire, I think, comes from my profession. Most of my career has been spent trying to “solve” customer “problems”. If you were successful at that you made money.

Notarism is not a solution to any particular problem. Instead, I feel, that it provides something deeper and less easily defined. The notarization process is a form of acknowledgement. Getting your existence notarized is really just another way of me saying “I see you”. And I think just that, by itself, people can find comforting.

I go back to the east coast shortly and will set up my table somewhere there. I learn something new every time.