On Killing the Momentum

The rain threw a wet blanket on tonight's art walk in the same way my grandmother walking into our living room where my first boyfriend and I were passionately making out years ago did. Nothing was quite the same after either event.

Before the skies opened up, I made it to Ghostprint Gallery for what I already knew was going to the the highlight of the evening. Wretched Glory: Richmond's Show Poster and Flier Art would have been an outstanding show even if I were not a show poster collector. Given that I am, it was a little bit of heaven and I took my sweet time checking out the many posters and fliers on the walls.

Of course it was a kick to see posters for long-gone venues and bands, but even more titillating were the fliers for shows I only wish I'd gone to. Death Cab for Cutie at UR in 2001? Seriously UR? Shepard Fairey at Alley Katz in 2002? What the...? Dashboard Confessional at Twisters in 2001? Judge me if you want, but I'd have gone to all three had I known about them.

In some cases, it was what information was included on the poster that caught my eye. A Fugazi show at Metro promised three things: One show only! All ages! Over by 12! I'm not sure who'd made these rules, Metro or Fugazi, but they sounded serious about them. And since when is Fugazi done by midnight?

I loved the poster for the Hole show at Twisters. FREE! FREE! FREE! it screamed at the top. In case that wasn't enough incentive, it also said, "If you like L7 and Lunachicks, do NOT miss this band!" The fact that Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth had produced their album was also mentioned, just in case name recognition mattered to the flier reader. I bet that Hole kicked ass and took numbers at Twisters that night.

The exhibit also had newer posters and I saw some from shows I've seen in the past few years at Toad's Place as well as the National. There was also a good representation of experimental noise show posters, several of which I'd been to. I didn't remember the performance that specified that you had to bring your own headphones and Walkman in order to hear the show, but it sounded like a unique experience.

By the time I finished drooling over all those posters and went to leave, the deluge had begun. I hovered on the stoop for the duration, which was the ideal location for me; I was able to meet and greet those arriving at the gallery or walking down the street in the rain. I even ended up giving directions to a lost soul looking for the National and headed in the wrong direction. Boy was he grateful. I noticed that a lot of people gave up and decided to leave at this point.

When it was safe to walk without my dress disappearing (ah, the double-edged sword of silk: cool but transparent when wet) , I headed straight to the courtyard for music. A friend was making her bass-playing debut in Moorish Temple, a 70s stoner band-influenced trio. She told me beforehand that she was so nervous that she'd been throwing up, but she acquitted herself beautifully and looked fabulous doing it. What more is there?

I'd have stayed for more music, but it was incredibly humid in the courtyard with those high walls and no air flow, so I left the two WRIR Pauls and wandered down to Art 6 for the photography show and on the way back to the satellite gallery for the Gay Community Center's show. Both were packed with wet-shirted attendees and umbrella-carriers.

Of course, it wouldn't be a First Friday if I didn't acknowledge my hard-working bartender friends. Ron at Bistro 27 stuck out his tongue at me, probably because I was outside the madness that he couldn't escape inside. Even so, I know he didn't mean it because just yesterday we were bonding over our shared choice to live a/c-free, albeit extremely sweaty bonding.

Over at Tarrant's, Danny was too busy to notice me smiling through the door, but luckily Alexa did and shouted loud enough for me to hear through the glass, "There's Karen!" which finally got his attention. Like Ron, he was in madness mode dealing with all the rain-dodging artwalkers who'd traded gallery hopping for sedentary drinking. But he smiled and waved.

I knew it would be sticky hot and humid in Gallery 5, so I sat outside when I saw some friends and took in the music from there. I ran into an acquaintance whom I discovered reads my blog and not only reads it, but kept up with it while he was on vacation. I would have never imagined that my blog posts were vacation-worthy reading material and he assured me they were. Let's just say I was wildly flattered.

It would take a lot to throw a wet blanket on that feeling.