Guerrilla Antics

I've seen a host of colorful things at the First Friday artwalks, but tonight I saw my first guerrilla fashion show.

I walked into one of the unnamed galleries near Art6 and all kinds of fashionably-dressed models were perched around the room or making their way through the crowd.

I heard that the clothing came from Rumors Boutique over on Harrison Street, but saw nothing to indicate that officially. But of course, there would be nothing official about a guerrilla event.

Seeing the art on the walls was a bit problematic because there were so many fashionable young men having earnest conversations (and taking photographs of each other) against the walls that it was impossible to see most of the art. On the other hand, the human scenery was quite decorative.

"Throwback: Art of the 60s and 70s" at Art6 drew a big crowd with its visual references to the pop artists of those decades. A guitarist sat in a corner of the gallery strumming and singing songs like "Imagine" to create the proper vibe. Low-key groovy.

Over at Gallery 5 I ran into a bazillion people I knew before I even got to see the shows. "Fleeting Terrain" with its large scale works of unrecognizable landscapes required two trips around the room to absorb it all.

In the GallowLily's space, Henry Winfiele's show of colorful wall-hung sculptures was the best kind of eye candy: bright, distinctive and creative. The artist was surrounded by a group of fans the entire time I was there. Of course we would have art groupies in RVA.

Gallery 5 was also having music (Capstan Shafts and the Diamond Center), but then who wasn't tonight? Sound of Music, Balliceaux and Sprout all had excellent bills planned. I opted for hushed folk and dreamy pop at Sprout.

With all the First Friday madness going on, it was still relatively civilized at Sprout when I arrived, allowing me to have a nice dinner before the rest of the music-seekers began to wander in.

Owner Jamie took the stool beside me, so I had built-in bad jokes throughout my meal ("absinthe-minded professor"...groan) of sliced steak salad (feta, mixed greens, roasted root veggies and mustard vinaigrette), Searidge Syrah and red velvet cake (the darkest and most chocolatey I've ever had). It was a simple and satisfying meal with great company.

Savannah's Lady Lazarus played to a room not nearly as full as it should have been considering her minimalist style comprised of an ethereal voice and accompanying piano. But those of us in the room enjoyed what we heard immensely.

Her songs were poems pulled from a deep emotional place; "Midnight Music for the Broken-Hearted Condition" said it all. She apologized for the bad grammar of "I Couldn't Find Me in Anything" and delivered another heartfelt ode to love and change.

Mid-set two guys walked into the room and had a top-volume conversation that almost drowned out her music completely. It was almost comical how loudly they were talking in a hushed room full of people clearly listening to music. Some would say oblivious, others would use stronger language.

The Low Branches had a slightly bigger crowd as people began to trickle in from earlier shows and catch their set of haunting folk music with guitar(s) and drums. People instinctively quiet down when they play so as not to miss a hushed note.

When one of the oblivious ones re-entered the room during their set, everyone held their breath but he didn't speak...until he came out of the ladies' room to find a girl waiting to use it.

"Oh, sorry," he shouted at her over Christina's song before noticing that he'd left the seat up. "The least I can do is put that down for you." Considering he'd bypassed the open men's room for the ladies' loo, yea, it didn't seem like too much to ask.

It would have been the perfect time for a visit from the guerrilla music police, though. Shouting during a quiet show and leaving the seat up are offenses punishable by immediate expulsion.

In a perfect world, that is.

First Fridays Music Walk

First Fridays have gotten to be as much about music as visual art and you can imagine how that pleases me. In between gallery hopping, there's music to be found for all kinds of tastes.

After hearing from several people that tonight was going to be a light turnout for the art walk, it was actually exceedingly busy. As the evening wore on, people seemed to keep coming and forming audiences in front of all the various musical entertainments.

Gallery 5 had always done music and tonight I heard British-born Freddie Stevenson as part of their new music series, the Accents Tour, showcases up and coming European and Australian musicians. Metro Space Gallery, too, is a reliable place for listening, although they tend to lean toward blues and rock bands. Art 6 is good about having interesting music on a regular basis; tonight it was My Son the Doctor playing Balkana nd Jewish folk music.

But there was also a cover band playing in the lot near Visual Arts and they had a Goth-clad belly dancer interpreting their covers of Bad Company and the like. A trio of earnest young horn players (they all had to be under 20) were playing near Corporate Museum and Frame.

And in the courtyard at Adams, which over the past year has become a reliably excellent place to hear music during First Fridays, both Lobo Marino and the Colloquial Orchestra were impressing the crowds.

But lest you think I just skipped over the primary purpose of the art walk, I didn't. "Self Titled" at G5 was an exhibit of original artwork used for independently-released albums. I was struck by how the actual art sometimes had a wholly different feel than the piece of it used on an album cover.

"Last Dowry" at Quirk was a collection of sumptuous pieces made of jewelry, satin ribbons and lush fabrics. Some were square, or egg-shaped, some were U-shaped and one looked like a bone. They were incredibly feminine looking and invited the viewer to touch their beautiful textures. I'd have guessed instantly that the artist was a woman; and indeed, her name was Vadis Turner.
I ran into plenty of friends tonight (and, no, I did not wear black, garnering compliments galore) since absolutely everyone seemed to be out and about. It was great to see my neighborhood full of visitors again after the relative calm of the summer months.

So after an evening of art and all kinds of music, I naturally went out for (what else?) more music. Sprout Cafe was having a show with Athens, Georgia's Madeline followed by Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird's last show until December. It all sounded good to me.

Madeline packed the room with probably forty people sitting, standing and sprawled on the floor, all eager to hear her unique voice and well-written emotive lyrics. Her voice and style owe a fair amount to Joni Mitchell and even Karen Carpenter.

At times she had an almost Irish lilt and at others her southern roots shone through (sometimes it is all about the dirty south). All in all, a stellar performance. Favorite lyric: "I want to be everything you need to prove."

JV and the Speckled Bird closed out my evening by superbly performing their last EP, The Fire Next Time. It was a fitting way to impress the room full of fans and give us something to remember until they're back playing live again.

And it won't have to be on a First Friday, but given the state of Richmond's art walk lately, it's certainly a possibility. Maybe we can get Madeline back to play her first album in its entirety, too.

It would be worth it for the title alone: Kissing and Dancing. Evocative, isn't it?

In the Heat of the Night

The humidity's been at around 82% all evening. All my activities tonight involved lots of sweaty bodies. Everyone who hugged me this evening was sticky. And not one of those statements is a complaint (I'll take hot over cold any time).

My Friday night began at the new pizza place Stuzzi, which was packed for its unofficial opening night soiree. The ABC license hadn't arrived until 2:00 this afternoon (whew!), but the choices tonight were limited to wine and liquor (beer is coming, not that I care). They had no change so only cards were being taken in payment for drinks. Food was on the house with comments being actively solicited. And the a/c struggled to keep up with the crowd and the pizza oven cranking out non-stop pies.

I found my spot at the front bar and ordered my wine from a list on a yellow legal pad (how often does that happen twice in one week?) consisting of a Pinot Grigio, a Chardonnay and a blend of Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay. It will be interesting to see what actually ends up on the wine list.

The large staff was rushing about furiously, figuring out their systems as they went along; everyone was friendly, pleasant and glistening. There were five Stuzzi Chini (delicious little things), two salads, the classic Pizze D.O.C., the Margherita, along with five other pizzas and four pastas. Oh, and three desserts for those who care about such things.

I ordered the spring mix with Gorgonzola and the Italian Sausage (Salsiccia) Pizze with San Marzano tomato sauce, housemade Mozzarella, sausage, basil and EVOO. My salad had so much Gorgonzola on it that I actually didn't finish it all (knowing I had a pie on the way) and that's really saying something. The greens were fresh and it was not overdressed so I gave it a thumbs up. Owner Peter teased me about not being able to finish such wonderful cheese from the originating town. Cheese fail, Karen.

The beauty of a pizza oven with stones from Mt. Vesuvius is that a pie is ready in 60 to 90 seconds. The rustic and amorphic pizza was superb and I shared a piece with an old friend and former neighbor who had stopped by ("I should have known I'd find you here.") on his way to a benefit and he agreed that the pie was beautifully done. Since unlike me, he still lives a block away, he's thrilled with their presence in the Museum District.

Leaving, I ran into Tanya of Belmont Butchery, whom I hadn't chatted with since a party a few months back. She wanted to show me the butchery's garden, so we headed around the corner to meet up with the charming Henry and admire the corn. And the lima beans (be still my heart). And the beets and the mesclun and the peppers and the haricots verts. Strolling the back forty with a light breeze was the perfect after-dinner activity; promises of gifts from their bounty only added to my personal enjoyment of it all. Lima lovers "R" us.

I left the old 'hood for the current one to meet up with a friend and do the artwalk (duh, it is First Friday after all). I specifically wanted to see the "Richmond Illustrators Club 4th Annual Juried Show" because it is always one of my favorite (and best) shows of the year. There was such a variety of talent on Ghostprint's walls tonight and many of the prints were extremely reasonably priced. There was more than one that I could happily look at every day on my own walls.

ADA's "Anniversary Affordable Works and Garage Sale" offered up all kinds of delights in practically every medium. I loved Daniel Davidson's symmetrical images; he only draws the left side and then uses a simple process to transfer it to the right side. Shown was a drawing of the Brooklyn Bridge and another of Queen Elizabeth; the detail in both was riveting. And how clever is he? Half the work and a full picture.

Art 6 had a Juneteenth exhibit that shone for its vintage photographs of blacks posing for the camera pre-1900. Another photography standout was "Soul Rebel: An Intimate Portrait of Bob Marley" by David Burnett at Metro Space Gallery, with a local reggae band conveniently playing outside. Lots of blissed out faces, but no suspicious smells.

I knew I wanted to finish in the courtyard because the Colloquial Orchestra was playing and after hearing them once, I wanted to hear them some more. They started playing with no introduction and it took a few minutes for the crowd, or at least those who were there to hear music, to realize it.

They have an amazing sound and I checked and I'm not speaking out of turn by calling them post-rock. Their dynamic sound builds and wraps around the listener's ear in a way that makes the music everything...unless you're talking and then, sadly for you, it's just background.

Talking to the guys in the band afterwards, they acknowledged a lot of improvisation going on in between certain set points in the music. They also said that they ldo isten to a lot of post-rock, too, and laughingly suggested that they're post-post rock.

What they are to me is a collection of talented musicians playing interesting instruments and creating a sound that doesn't fall neatly into 3 or 4 minute songs, but which will totally capture you for the duration. There could have been no better way to wrap up the evening.

Walking back past Gallery 5, we saw a bit of a fire performance and some belly dancing as we paused on the sidewalk. It was my friend's first First Friday in over two years, so he was particularly thrilled with the events of the evening. I know because he told me so as he gave me a sweaty hug before leaving J-Ward.

As for me, now that I've finished my nightly over-sharing and it's only 12:45, I plan to take my wine and my sticky self and go sit on my balcony for a while to enjoy the heat.

It's not like anyone will know how sweaty I am...and I kind of like it on a June night.

First Fridays: Smile Like You Mean It

The crowds flocked to Jackson Ward night, not because I willed them to, but undoubtedly because of the best First Fridays weather in 2010.

I saw so many new faces and heard so many people talking about this being their first art walk. I also saw a lot of females shivering in cute summer attire as the evening wore on.

I walked right up Henry like I was going to the Belvidere and ducked into Henry Street Gallery for a group show of "Richmond Artists of the 80s."

It was probably my favorite show of the evening. I came to RVA in the late 80s, so I didn't recognize the artists' names, but stylistic ally, I was fascinated.

It didn't look dated, but it didn't look like current work, either. It definitely reflected a different era.

As I was leaving, the guy sitting by the door with a camera asked me stop and smile.

He may have been feeling a little guilty since his job was actually to warn people about the step down as you walk in the door and I'd tripped coming in.

Or maybe he could tell I really liked the show.

At ADA gallery, both John Coburn and Gian Pierotti had created objects that almost, but not quite looked like something in the real world.

It was interesting to dissect my first impression of each piece; no matter how I'd first interpreted it, upon closer inspection it wasn't exactly like it should look if it were that object. It felt a little like a mind f*#k, challenging your perceptions.

Of all things, it was horse-themed art at Ghostptint Gallery.

Some were in full color, but my favorites were in monochromatic shades of brown; they almost resembled Degas drawings for his racetrack paintings.

The show was "What are the Odds?" and Neal Iwan's brushstrokes were a thing of beauty.

Over at Lift, I ran into a friend who lost his front tooth this week to a bungee cord snap-back. He's heard a lot of West Virginia jokes the past few days, but the doctor said most people lose an eye when it happens, so he's actually pretty lucky, if a bit backwoods-looking until the reconstruction process begins.

Cue banjo music.

For anyone who saw the first InLight exhibit in 2008, the star of the show was back tonight.

The "Jackson Ward House," outlined entirely in light tubes was up and attendees were wandering through it in amazement, probably many of them seeing it for the first time.

You can tell that the creator, an Englishman, was as taken with the architecture of the Ward as yours truly.

Art 6 had a group show, all by women and using various formats, including poetry, which I found especially cool.

I believe it was part of the Minds Wide Open initiative currently going on.

I know better than to try to visit my neighborhood restaurants on the first Friday, but I plastered my face to the door at Tarrant's to give my bartender friend a big smile and before I reached the end of the block, was accosted by two of the Bistro 27 staff coming out to say hello and kiss my hand (and no doubt escape the teeming masses inside).

It was a big night for Gallery 5 because they're celebrating their fifth birthday, an enormous accomplishment for any gallery who doesn't receive outside funding.

They have begun their first membership drive and I can't think of a better cause to support than the arts.

It's an ongoing drive, so there's till plenty of time to jump on the G5 bandwagon and do good.

Downstairs was hung with posters made for many of the events at G5 over the past five years.

It was a walk down memory lane, full of reminders of the excellent art, music, poetry, burlesque, dance and film that has come through there.

Upstairs, the theme continued with dozens of photos taken over the last half-decade. Let's just say there were a lot of familiar faces.

Then it was time for music and a four-piece called Haints in the Holler took us on a bluegrass odyssey complete with washboard.

They were followed by Prabir and the Goldrush, usually a three-piece, but recently graduated to a quartet with the addition of a drummer.

Don't worry, they're still a rock band with classical musicians and loads of hooks.

I should mention Prabir's magnificent mane, but he complained to me tonight that the media always does, so it's trite for me to do so.

Consider it done with a smile.

Deflowering a First Friday Virgin

It's not that difficult to do the First Friday art walk, right?

You walk, you go in places that look appealing, you look at art and hear music.

I've done it dozens of times, so I was more than a little surprised to be asked to be the guide for my friend (he'd only been once) and his date (she'd never been) at tonight's art walk.

Lead you around by the nose?

Why, sure, I can do that.

With ADA closed, we began at Ghostprint Gallery with Tom McCormack's acid etchings on steel.

They were striking: frameless, for the most past stark and industrial looking with holes to nail them onto the walls.

But they were also evocative and compelling.

Several had already sold, including my favorite, "Clear Skies Over West Bank Street," a view of the narrow street with houses on either side.

Gull was playing outside Lift, so we had to pause so my tour guests could experience the one-man phenomenon that is Gull.

I don't usually stop at Visual Arts Studio, but it was impossible not to tonight.

Greg Lewis' sculpture "Pamlico," made out of 87,000 toothpicks (stay with me here) was in the front window.

Lewis had shaped thousands of toothpicks into the figure of a mermaid kneeling.

She was about 5'8" from her knees to the crown on her curly head of hair (made of broken toothpicks; frickin' unbelievable).

The artist told me it took a year and a half to complete this piece; the selling price is $72,000.

Do yourself a favor and walk by the gallery to admire the work in the window.

At Turnstyle there was actually art in progress.

Mural artist Michael Owen was in the process of painting a piece commissioned by the store.

It was an image of a guy holding a record sleeve amongst shelves of records, and he was even painting as we spoke.

An exhibit of his paintings was also on display, all images of musicians.

Naturally I was curious about why he'd painted certain ones and he said that those were the people he listened to while painting, people like Lenny Kravitz, The Edge and Tracey Thorne

The latter surprised me, but I gave him a lot of credit for it; she does have an amazing voice.

It was my first time at the Eric Schindler Annex on Broad Street after which we made a stop at Art 6.

There we found a photography show by Lloyd Chaser; the black and white photographs in it were of Richmond in the snow and contained some stunning images given the subject and the weather.

Other pieces were shot out west and in Alaska and were in color, but it was the local shots that drew the most onlookers.

As a bonus, the three degrees of separation between me and one of my favorite blog readers was eliminated tonight when I was finally introduced to her.

Unfortunately, we didn't get to talk long and I would have loved to, but at least now I can recognize her when we attend the same functions, which we seem to frequently do.

Ahh, the thrill of the online world colliding with the real!

When we got to 1708 Gallery, I explained the significance of the lit squares in the sidewalk; oh, I was just full of good guide tidbits of information and they ate it up.

But shortly thereafter, they were getting hungry and it was nearing 10:00, so we decided to get out of Dodge (all the restaurants were mobbed) and head over to Carytown and hopefully away from the madding crowds.

We went to NY Deli for some good grub and loud dance music.

It was interesting though; I can't say I'd ever heard a dance remix of the Doors' "Riders on the Storm" and now I can say I have.

By the time I took my fifth-wheel self and prepared to leave the daters at NYD, they were gushing about the evening.

The woman especially couldn't have been more impressed.

"I can't believe how fast that time went! That was so amazing! Thank you!"

Yea, well, anytime you need help walking, looking and listening and can't figure it out on your own, I'm your girl.

But I'm willing to bet that if you just got out there and gave it a try, you'd see how simple it really is.

But I'll keep my guide certification up to date...just in case.

Think Small...No, Smaller

This is America, so bigger is always better, right?

Not so, of course, as was beautifully demonstrated at tonight's Think Small Exhibition preview party at Art 6 and Artspace.

It was the 5th biennial international miniature invitational and while there were plenty of artists represented from RVA, there were also artists shown from Tuscon, Chicago, Budapest and places in between.

The works accepted could be no more than 3 inches in any direction, but that could mean 3 inches of sculpture, photography, painting and just about any other interpretation of form.

Tonight's preview party included a buffet prepared by some local favorites, including Mekong, Bistro 27 and Kuba, Kuba, among others.

Your ticket purchase also got you drinks at both galleries and there was a cushy motor coach (okay, bus) to transport participants from Broad Street to Manchester.

The event was a fundraiser for both galleries and undoubtedly desperately needed at a time when arts funding is almost non-existent.

But the primary benefit to attendees was the opportunity to purchase the art before the First Friday masses arrive tomorrow and purchase they did.

Many pieces earned a red sticker tonight, signifying that they'd been sold.

And while the art was small, the prices ranged from $35 to $400 to "Inquire," which usually means if you have to ask, you can't afford it.

But there was a great deal of interesting and affordable art to choose from out of the nearly 400 pieces on display.

The exhibit is a perfect opportunity for art lovers to acquire a piece (or two) worth enjoying every day.

And, beware,  if you don't go for it now, it'll be two more years before you have the opportunity to Think Small again.

Unless, of course, you'er thinking about something other than art.

He Used to be Sad, Now He's Just Bored with Her

My friend Holmes got dumped because he wasn't as romantic as Noah in "The Notebook."

Apparently the woman actually said that to him.

I'd like to say I know what Noah was like except I've never read or seen "The Notebook."

And it wasn't like she'd told him ahead of time that she wanted him to be romantic like Noah, and since he hadn't read or seen it either, he didn't exactly know that he was supposed to measure up to Noah.

Fortunately, he's smart enough to be glad to be rid of a nutcase like that, but it got me thinking.

Since everyone defines romance differently, what are the chances that when two people start out together they'll instinctively know what kind of romance to bring to the table?

And, realistically, how many people state their romantic preferences right up front?

I don't want to come off like a downer here, but, looking forward, how likely is it that I'll meet someone who can figure out how to romance me right?

Holmes thought he was doing just fine until that woman brought him up short.

Tonight was devoted to hearing Holmes' tale of woe; we began the process at my place with old music and a bottle of Famille Peillot 2007 Bugey Pinot Noir (hence the need for the decanter, per wine whiz Julia) so Holmes could share all the gory details.

Holmes loved my wine choice: lots of red fruit, medium-bodied and earthy.

After that we moved on to First Fridays since Holmes had never partaken of the art extravaganza, augmented this month with 2 Street Festival goings-on.

Seriously, Art6 is only allowed to have 20 people in its 2,000 square foot space at a time? Hell, yes, I'll sign your petition.

We concluded at Avalon (which I hadn't been to since June on an ill-fated date; the guy was disappointing, but the food was quite good) with an extended meal of mussels, scallops, rosemary and Parmesan grits, roasted corn, filet mignon and Pinot Gris.

Holmes shared all the little details leading up to The End: the lies, the letter, the weirdness about smooching.

He's decided to put off dating for a while and just hang out with his female friends, since we don't expect any Noah-like behavior out of him.

He joked that he's definitely planning to watch "The Notebook," maybe even take notes in a black and white composition book.

I least I think he was joking.

Men...

Poking Fun at the Economy

What do you do if you no longer have your engineering job, but do have a sub-prime mortgage, your 401K is in shreds and you fear for the future of the world economy? If you're Rick Huddle, you create a comedy/commentary routine that uses the ukulele, a slide show, music and lots of humor to make sense of this mess we're in.

Rick's performance of "Spent: Collusion and Prosperity in the World Economy" at Art6 tonight was a wild comedic ride explaining the Great Depression, the credit crunch, deregulation and CEO bonuses in music, stories and assorted foreign accents. His breakdown of the creation of the World Trade Organization was masterfully hysterical; why does everything always come down to American arrogance? Don't answer that.

Rick is traveling the country performing his smart comedy for those seeking a better understanding of today's economic crisis as well as for those who understand it fine, but need to laugh about it so they don't cry. Tonight's audience wasn't nearly as big as it should have been given the talent and creativity on display, but with any luck, he'll be back in rva again and more people will know not to miss his performance. I guarantee you'll laugh out loud and you might even walk away a tad better informed.