Pocahontas Was Not a Jesus Freak

The snowfall was an especially nice touch, as was the knight, but I could have done without the maggots.

For me, the first First Friday of 2011 began at the VMFA as they kicked off documentary month for their Friday Film series. Tonight's screening was Little White Feather and the Hunter, about the legend of Pocahontas, certainly a topic near and dear to the history of Virginia.

While the film's images of the estuary landscape of the Chesapeake Bay and Essex, England were striking, the voice overs seemed scattered; they ranged from ancestors of Pocahontas' tribe to anthropologists and archaeologists, all explaining their take on the Indian princess who moved to England and converted to Christianity ("She was looking for Jesus," one said. No, she wasn't, you wacko).

Call me a wimp, but I wasn't the only one who had a tough time seeing an image of a bloody, recently-killed deer strung up from a tree and drawn-out shots of oyster shucking seemed irrelevant after a while.

Mainly the film served to show the wide range of perceptions and misconceptions people still have about Pocahontas, both here and in England.

My innate nerdiness showed itself because I left feeling vaguely dissatisfied with having learned absolutely nothing new; the film was pretty but vapid and that's coming from a documentary dork.

Back in the Ward, I began my gallery tour at ADA Gallery for the Morgan Herrin piece, "Untitled." The 7' wooden sculpture of a knight who seems to have stalactites hanging downwards from his body like icicles, was the undisputed highlight of the evening.

I still remember my sheer awe at encountering his untitled female nude (the one bought by Lance Armstrong) on a Sunday morning on Floyd Avenue a few years ago; this piece has the same monumentality, classicism and skill with wood that stopped me in my tracks that day.

As I stood there gaping at the beauty of the work and wishing I could run my hand over it, a guy behind me said, "Now I just need to get my love life in order and life will be great." He said it so nonchalantly that I wanted to turn around and ask, "Yea, me, too. Exactly how do you do that?"

Over at Gallery 5, the Papier-Machete exhibit of paper works was packed, and with good reason. The large scale cut-out works were beautiful, full of energy and so intricate and detailed that the first thing I'd ask the artists is how long it took her (and what happened to her social life in the meantime).

I found the papier- mache road kill pieces especially clever; recreations of actual road kill were made and filled with wildflower seeds.

After the show, the pieces will be returned to the streets where their predecessors were first found and eventually the wildflowers will begin to sprout from their artistic shells. Naturally, photos will document the growth.

These pieces led to a discussion with a couple of (male) gallery-goers about finding dead animals (possums, armadillos and such) only to discover upon picking them up (something I would never do) that they were dead and full of maggots.

Descriptions of slime and decay followed and I made my escape, finding a couple of friends nearby with whom I could discuss more pleasant things.

On the way out I saw a box of faux cupcakes in GallowLily's "Sweet Home" exhibit and pretended to take a swipe of icing to make my friend Andrew laugh (I'm an icing licker from way back and he knows this. Hell, he's videotaped it).

Except that my gloved finger came up unexpectedly full of frosting. Oops. He backed away, saying, "I didn't see a thing," as I snagged the cupcake to remove the evidence of my folly, eating it as we made our way out.

The gloves had to come off, though; cupcakes lose a good part of their pleasure when finger-licking isn't possible. Lesson learned.

We decided to make our way to 1708 Gallery on the basis of another friend's endorsement of the Mathew Friday show there, based on the state of Texas banning mention of Thomas Jefferson in its history books. In Texas, though; really is anyone surprised?

"The Liberty of Empire" was structured almost like a workshop, exploring some of Thomas Jefferson's less-publicized passions (like his interest in anarchist Utopian communities, his budding interest in ecology and disdain for capitalism) and how they relate to our country today.

As the friend who had recommended the exhibit had told me, "Go see it once through tonight and then go back to really take it all in."

Since he's one of RVA's preeminent history buffs, I knew as soon as we got there that he was right. It was provocative, but tough to appreciate amongst the crowds; I will go back and explore what a raving lunatic TJ must have been to dream so big.

We walked into Quirk for a quick peek at the pottery show featuring a lot of large-sale jugs and vessels beautifully decorated, but the surprise came when we exited the gallery to find it seriously snowing. We are becoming a place where it snows regularly and no one's quite used to it.

It was beautiful and people around me were getting excited about it, although as a high school teacher I randomly spoke to told me, it was a waste. "What good does Friday snow do me?" Um, save you snow make-up days come June perhaps?

My friends were headed to the Slip/Bottom for a "bar hop" ("Do you mean pub crawl?" another friend humorously corrected) beginning at Sine' (again, her comment, "God, why there?"), but I was more in the mood for some wine, a view of the falling snow and a long chat with an old friend.

Got it all...without hopping or crawling.