As I write this Easter is less than a week away and spring is in the air; but you wouldn't recognize that by looking out the window. Something ominous is blowing in – dark clouds are filling the evening skies and I can hear the wind starting to howl against the windows and through the bamboo.
Metal at Paradise Lost
The past weekend was a blur of parties and art gallery openings. Something about spring just brings out the creativity. On Friday night I stumbled upon an artist's reception at Paradise Lost on the corner of Park and 20th – next to the Flavor Falls Asian Buffet. The show featured a series of metal sculptures that were hung from the ceiling. There were rocket-ships, prehistoric looking metal fish with saw blades for teeth, and geometric shapes. The pieces were all constructed in such a way that the lights that were planted inside shone through the gaps and holes in the surface of the metal. The illuminated sculpture in the low-light of the opening were luminous. I talked to the artist briefly – his name is Doug and he is based in Paradise – and asked him where he found the time to work on his art. He told me “I quit my job!”
After fortifying myself with a couple of gin and tonics at the reception I continued on down the road towards a party in the avenues. Before I could make it though I ran into a few friends at Duffy's – and in a nook near their I got into a conversation with a fellow who told me that if I was thinking about raising chickens, be sure and get the kind that lay the blue eggs. I socked this piece of worthwhile information away and headed down the street – finally making it to the party. Kegs of Pabst were flowing and there were loads of people in attendance and a ton of bands. The flier said it started at 7:00 and I rolled in around 8; but everything was delayed. The final band didn't play until midnight, and by then people were pretty well lubricated and either having a good time, or a bad time, depending on the whims of alcohol and mood. The night got a little stupid: insults, shoving, some saliva, you know – the usual. But hell – I suppose that's the way those things go. Punk rock the old fashioned way – reminded me of a Guttermouth show.
Mosaics at Mims
Saturday was a much more civilized affair. I moseyed over to Mim's Bakery for another art reception. This evening, an incredibly talented mosaic artist, Sarah Campbell, was showing a pastry related series of mosaics. The pieces were detailed, gleaming, edible-looking recreations of cup-cakes and pastries; along with a marvelous rooster framed in red! Mim's was at full capacity – a lively crowd of art-appreciators, friends, and colleagues had come together to enjoy the fine food, sangria, and delectable assortment of cookies and appetizers that had been assembled for the occasion. The pieces were moving fast – but I was able to secure a commission on a set of three small squares with iconic images distorted under a bubble of glass staring back at me. I could not resist. Campbell's mosaics will continue to be on display for the next month; so art lovers, and lovers of baked goods, should make a point of getting over to Mim's for a taste of both!
By the time you read this I will be recovering from a Spring Solstice/Easter party taking place a few dozen miles from town. I've got a strange tradition of really kicking it up a notch for Easter. To properly celebrate a resurrection, you have to flirt with death... This world is crazy. You go cruising along for months floating on air – you can't do anything wrong. It feels like you are unstoppable, invincible; and you know in the back of your mind that it is going to come crashing down. But what can you do? Nothing. That's what. Not a damned thing. You just keep moving forward, knowing damn well that you are about to get punched in the face, or the gut, or kicked in the nads. And then it happens, and you're doubled over in pain, rolling around on the ground like a dog, and you think to yourself “goddammit! I knew that was going to happen!” There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing I could have done. Lately I feel like destiny has the upper hand. Isn't that the way of it though? When things are going great its all about free will – then when it turns to shit, well dammit – it's destiny.
madbob@madbob.com
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