BETWEEN A ROCK AND A SOFT SPOT
Rock-painting groups spread delight with art
SANFORD — Aanya Shah, 3, smothered a small rock with purple paint as Tom Kiernan, 81, stood by — bottle in hand — ready to refill her artist’s tray.
All over Florida, throughout the U.S. and as far away as New Zealand, India and Thailand, people like Aanya and Kiernan are giving new meaning to the phrase “rock this town.” They’re part of a growing trend that uses paint and markers to transform ordinary rocks into art for the sole purpose of spreading delight.
“This whole thing is taking people off their phones, away from their TV and outside into the community,” said Misty Grubb, 37, who got into the hobby after a neighbor put a painted rock in her flower bed and she found the group Sanford Rocks on Facebook. “You start talking to each other while you’re painting rocks.”
The diversion appears to have started in 2015 with a woman in Cape Cod, Mass., who began painting rocks she found on the
beach and leaving them for strangers.
It took off in Central Florida in the past few months via social media. Most rock clubs put their name on the back of their rocks with either a hashtag or a Facebook symbol.
Sanford resident Lori Griffin founded Sanford Rocks in November, and it now has nearly 3,300 members. While some groups post clues to the location of the rocks, Sanford Rocks simply puts them in public places where they won’t hurt anyone — no lawns where mowers could kick them up — and leaves the rest to chance.
“You have the joy of painting it, the joy of finding it and the joy of your creation being found by somebody else,” said group member Jon Grubbs, 41, who organized Sanford Rocks’ summer meetup at a park, where Kiernan, Aanya and their families met.
Melissa Lutz, who belongs to Clermont Minneola Rocks, said her rocks have been taken home to Brevard and Hernando counties, and she was excited that one of them made it all the way to New York City, where the finder posted it on Facebook. The groups spread when finders start their own in their hometowns.
“This couldn’t happen without social media,” Lutz said.
Amanda Koontz Anthony, a sociology professor at the University of Central Florida, agrees. Rock painting melds the low-tech past — parents who remember the original Pokémon, for example — with the hightech present — think the Pokémon Go craze of last year, a virtual scavenger hunt that used GPS and augmented reality.
Especially in these fractious times, using something as simple as a rock to spread positive messages can create community, said Koontz Anthony, whose specialties includes the sociology of popular culture and art.
“The simplicity of it is sometimes the appeal,” she said. “There is something very meditative about being in nature, being outside. These things usually are fulfilling some need. It’s not going to take care of the problem where this need is arising from, but it’s something that’s positive that’s going to take care of it for now.”
Lutz wasn’t much of an artist when she started, but now she paints animals and inspirational messages such as, “You’re beautiful.” Her Fourth of July rocks include depictions of flags, a bald eagle and fireworks. She also painted 49 rainbow hearts for the victims of the 2016 shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando and a Cat in the Hat rock, which she left at the Seuss landing section of Universal’s Islands of Adventure.
Her family joined the movement after her 11-year-old son found a rock while they were playing miniature golf.
Lutz’s group is planning a meetup in July at a 7-Eleven in Clermont. They’ll paint pictures of Slurpee frozen drinks on rocks, and the convenience store has agreed to give a real Slurpee to anyone who finds one and brings it in, she said.
Sanford Rocks, by contrast, avoids commercial involvement. No T-shirt sales. No ads. No related merchandise.
“There are no strings attached,” Griffin said. “There’s no expectation of return.”
Some of the bigger groups in Florida are Lakeland Rocks, with about 32,000 members; Brevard Rocks, with more than 30,000; and Volusia County Rocks, with more than 23,000. Other groups are centered in locations large and small, including Wekiva, Avalon Park, Belle Isle, Tallahassee and Pensacola.
The hobby promotes creativity, sneaks some exercise into the day and also is a good way to keep the kids busy, participants say.
“It’s therapeutic. It’s my zen,” said Cecily Singleton, 42, a working mother of two and co-administrator of the Sanford Rocks Facebook page. “It’s not like TV. It actually pulls the stress out of you.”