Everyone has days when they hate their life and I'm lucky that mine are mostly few and far between.
But I got so low today that a close friend advised, "It may be time to curl up with a good book and some relaxation time."
She was telling me to look after myself but I knew if I stayed in I'd just wallow in my maudlin mood.
So I went out and everywhere I went, random people saying nice things kept me occupied.
A gallery owner told me that my "Style Weekly" article about a painter had enticed a reader to come in to the gallery and he ended up buying two pieces of the artist's work.
Satisfaction.
An editor came up and said that she not only reads my blog but also my "Belle" column and has discovered interesting stuff she didn't know about there.
Flattery.
A musician I know stopped to introduce me to his fiance who, upon hearing my name, said, "Someone was just mentioning your name this afternoon, talking about what a supporter of the arts you are."
Renown.
A non-profit director asked me to consider being on their board because I am such a cheerleader for RVA.
Compliment.
For that matter, a handsome man got down on one knee and kissed my hand, saying that the moon was now shining brighter because of my arrival.
Charming bullshit.
And while all that was happening and I was strolling First Fridays, maudlin mercifully moved to the back burner.
Art 180 had taken over the empty space next to the Visual Arts Gallery with a series of large panels created by kids.
The theme was "What I Stand For" and on the front was their painted depiction of that and on the back, a written statement about the work.
Making my way around the colorful works, I was asked to give my own thoughts on what I stand for to a camerawoman.
I did my best spontaneous explanation of what matters to me, but it probably wasn't the ideal day to put me on the spot.
At Metro Gallery, Wade Mickley's assemblages addressed the unpredictability of life, underscoring my mood.
"An Undulating Mess" was a whimsical creature crafted from cut-up 45s with a cloud for a face.
A square picture of a bird was surrounded by nesting material and (again) clouds, making for a square nest in "Widespread and Abundant."
At Gallery 5, Abigail Larson's drawings and watercolors showed a definite nod to the macabre and the illustrative qualities of an Edward Gorey with lots of fluid lines and bizarre details.
In the Craft Gallery, the "Pin Pals" exhibit was a series of buttons made by artists and mounted on fabric swatches on woodblocks.
There were some talented names on display (Noah Scalin, Ryan McLennan) and many I'd never heard of, but the array of miniature art was impressive.
It might be the way to own an artist I couldn't otherwise afford.
That was all the art I had time for before high-tailing it to the Byrd for the bone-crushing organ skills of Cameron Carpenter.
The benefit for the theater (we will get new seats in my lifetime...I hope) was really well attended considering tickets were not cheap.
On the other hand, Carpenter is the world-renowned bad boy of organ playing, right down to his glittery wardrobe (silver lame suit and shoes with lights) and offbeat programs.
And speaking of programs, he never announces his in advance. The program has no, well, program.
Tonight he began with fast and loud (Chopin) with his lighted feet almost dancing on the pedals before going to slow and soft ("Colonial Song").
He did Bach before switching to Gershwin ("The Bach of American pop music," he opined), Henry Mancini and Kate Bush's "Cloudbusting" ("She's right up there with Tom Waits and Schubert").
Impressive.
Carpenter is not your mother's organist, but his mad organ skills make even the stuffiest classical music fans sit up and take notice.
Early on he'd announced, "I'm going to have a grand old time playing this marvelous monster," and that he'd only had twenty minutes of practice on it this afternoon.
Talking about where he might go with the musical selections, he said, "I've no more desire to hear serious organ music than you do."
But by the same token, he acknowledged that "Nobody wants to hear Lady Gaga on a pipe organ."
I'll do him one better. I don't want to hear Lady Gaga at all. And still haven't (a source of personal pride).
By the time the performance was over, the evening's distractions had traded places with the back burner's contents and there it all was again.
Lonely. Profoundly lonely.
Showing posts with label metro space gallery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metro space gallery. Show all posts
Friday, October 7, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Play That Folky Music...With Cello
For a summer First Friday, the art walk had a terrific crowd. Maybe it was the beautiful weather.
Beginning at Gallery 5 for Skull Appreciation Day, the upstairs gallery was packed and hot, much hotter than the outside temperature. And I do I like it hot.
The 100+ skulls were about as varied as they could be, ranging from frilly and feminine to organic and growing. From cotton to candy to nails, skulls were covered in just about everything imaginable.
Downstairs, the Girls Rock! RVA exhibit showcased works inspired by women, including photographer/musician Micheal Otley's pictures of female musicians and singers in mid-performance. Sometimes men really are the best interpreters of women.
Since ADA Gallery was closed (coming soon and it better be good) and I'd already seen the excellent show at Ghostprint, I headed to Metro Gallery for their group show with a DJ from RVAlution's Dance Party spinning it loud.
I had the pleasure of running into all kinds of people I knew, including the gentleman farmer whom I intend to write about.
Art 6's Juneteenth exhibit was a timely collection of photographs from the Valentine showing 19th century blacks at church picnics, at home, at an emancipation parade and at school, among other places. They were stunning for their veracity.
A smaller gallery held pictures from the VMFA of Africans from the 1970s, including a king in full regalia. The format was as different from the photographs as it could be and yet the visual impact just as strong.
After a brief stop at a rogue gallery with live painted models posing perfectly still, I made my way to the Courtyard for music.
Last summer I, like so many others, had felt the loss of music in the charming spot because the series had been discontinued; now it was back.
When I arrived, Lightfields was near the end of their set, playing psychedelic rock with moments drifting close to post-rock. Hmm, were these guys my cup of tea?
A friend said they were a bit jam band-like, but I heard one song I liked and one I could leave, so I can't really say. I was sorry to have missed a cover of "Killing Moon," though.
I was happy to have run into a couple of music geeks friends and set up camp with them. We were there for Chapel Hill's Birds and Arrows, a band I first saw last September at Gallery 5.
That had been an excellent show and why not; the band's combination of amplified acoustic guitar, drums and cello were the perfect sound for some beautiful harmonies.
And unlike at that last show, tonight we were outside, in a courtyard with a painted mural, no humidity and a gentle breeze wafting down from the sky. No folky band could have ordered up a lovelier evening to play.
Lead singer Andrea at one point instructed the crowd, "Use your inner geek and clap along to folk music" and the crowd obliged.
There were pop quizzes and prizes given ("What was Wild Cherry's 1970s hit?" which I knew, but shared the information with a friend rather than the group), including blankets, t-shirts and records. It was a homey touch.
After the show, we stood around chatting with other friends until we were invited to a favorite music couple's nearby condo (the Emrick Flats were barely a block away) for drinks and nibbles.
Once there, we settled into a satisfying discussion of the local music scene, our hopes for the Hippodrome, Floyd Fest, genital piercing and batteau racing.
A woman who gives house shows because she loves music told us stories of ranting landlords and memorable music (A Good Natured Riot made more at her house than they did at Ashland Coffee & Tea. Sad).
I was excited to hear that some of the upcoming Listening Room shows will be curated by local musicians (a la All Tomorrow's Parties and an idea I adore). Brilliant!
As we sat there, a mixed group of people, some of us meeting for the first time, I was again reminded of how welcoming and interesting the local scene is.
Art walking became music standing and ended with conversation sitting.
Best of all, I never left the 'hood. Jackson Ward had it all, making J-Ward girl a happy person tonight.
Beginning at Gallery 5 for Skull Appreciation Day, the upstairs gallery was packed and hot, much hotter than the outside temperature. And I do I like it hot.
The 100+ skulls were about as varied as they could be, ranging from frilly and feminine to organic and growing. From cotton to candy to nails, skulls were covered in just about everything imaginable.
Downstairs, the Girls Rock! RVA exhibit showcased works inspired by women, including photographer/musician Micheal Otley's pictures of female musicians and singers in mid-performance. Sometimes men really are the best interpreters of women.
Since ADA Gallery was closed (coming soon and it better be good) and I'd already seen the excellent show at Ghostprint, I headed to Metro Gallery for their group show with a DJ from RVAlution's Dance Party spinning it loud.
I had the pleasure of running into all kinds of people I knew, including the gentleman farmer whom I intend to write about.
Art 6's Juneteenth exhibit was a timely collection of photographs from the Valentine showing 19th century blacks at church picnics, at home, at an emancipation parade and at school, among other places. They were stunning for their veracity.
A smaller gallery held pictures from the VMFA of Africans from the 1970s, including a king in full regalia. The format was as different from the photographs as it could be and yet the visual impact just as strong.
After a brief stop at a rogue gallery with live painted models posing perfectly still, I made my way to the Courtyard for music.
Last summer I, like so many others, had felt the loss of music in the charming spot because the series had been discontinued; now it was back.
When I arrived, Lightfields was near the end of their set, playing psychedelic rock with moments drifting close to post-rock. Hmm, were these guys my cup of tea?
A friend said they were a bit jam band-like, but I heard one song I liked and one I could leave, so I can't really say. I was sorry to have missed a cover of "Killing Moon," though.
I was happy to have run into a couple of music geeks friends and set up camp with them. We were there for Chapel Hill's Birds and Arrows, a band I first saw last September at Gallery 5.
That had been an excellent show and why not; the band's combination of amplified acoustic guitar, drums and cello were the perfect sound for some beautiful harmonies.
And unlike at that last show, tonight we were outside, in a courtyard with a painted mural, no humidity and a gentle breeze wafting down from the sky. No folky band could have ordered up a lovelier evening to play.
Lead singer Andrea at one point instructed the crowd, "Use your inner geek and clap along to folk music" and the crowd obliged.
There were pop quizzes and prizes given ("What was Wild Cherry's 1970s hit?" which I knew, but shared the information with a friend rather than the group), including blankets, t-shirts and records. It was a homey touch.
After the show, we stood around chatting with other friends until we were invited to a favorite music couple's nearby condo (the Emrick Flats were barely a block away) for drinks and nibbles.
Once there, we settled into a satisfying discussion of the local music scene, our hopes for the Hippodrome, Floyd Fest, genital piercing and batteau racing.
A woman who gives house shows because she loves music told us stories of ranting landlords and memorable music (A Good Natured Riot made more at her house than they did at Ashland Coffee & Tea. Sad).
I was excited to hear that some of the upcoming Listening Room shows will be curated by local musicians (a la All Tomorrow's Parties and an idea I adore). Brilliant!
As we sat there, a mixed group of people, some of us meeting for the first time, I was again reminded of how welcoming and interesting the local scene is.
Art walking became music standing and ended with conversation sitting.
Best of all, I never left the 'hood. Jackson Ward had it all, making J-Ward girl a happy person tonight.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Sail Me to Wales and Bring Cheeks
To-Do List/ Friday:
1. Pre-artwalk party at Emrick Flats
I'd been eager to see the inside of these condos since they'd opened and I finally got the chance when music friends invited me to a party in their sensationally art-decorated home. I met J-Ward neighbors, music lovers and three people who recognized me although I couldn't reciprocate. Coolest elements of the building: the old elevator that would move the cars from floor to floor when it was a showroom and the rooftop deck, perfect for watching fireworks from both the Diamond and RIR. The view is stunning; who knew how many rooftop gardens there were in Jackson Ward? My friends have even slept up there. I aspire to sleep on a roof with someone I love.
2. Gallery 5 opening
Upon walking in, a G5 stalwart comes up with a guy in tow and introduces me saying, "And here's a woman who looks as good from the back as she does from the front." The stranger introduces himself as a solo transAtlantic sailor ("I did it twice. Both ways!"). He also tells me he was the first white guy in Carver and my friend informs me that he's an incredibly talented furniture maker. "Wanna come over now and see my etchings and I'll make you dinner?" he asks. I am tickled to hear that chestnut of a line. When I politely decline he tells me that I'm missing the chance of a lifetime. Damn! Again?
3. Metro Gallery and ADA Gallery openings
The group show at Metro contains a drawing with my favorite title of the evening: "When We Get There, I Will Love You More" by Carly Troncale. Over at ADA, Kate Woodliffe's fabric collages convey a sense of unsewn whimsy in cloth, but I realize her hands must have become gnarled and cramped from so much precise cutting. I see various guests from the party earlier, receive a compliment on my bangs and get invited to a house show in Monroe Ward. I chalk it up to Tinkerbelle hovering over me from a collage above.
4. Reynolds Gallery opening (late addition)
One of the paintings in my friends' apartment at the Emrick Flats had been by a student of artist Heide Trepanier, and after admiring the follower, I couldn't resist going to see the teacher's opening. As is always the case at Reynolds, local art luminaries were in attendance (Richard Roth, Joe Seipel) and and the place was crowded with artsy types having earnest conversations. Trepanier's large-scale works were fluid, detailed and defined by color. A woman says to me, "Who would have thought those colors go together?' about a piece with pinkish red, aqua blue and pine green shapes. Heide Trepanier, that's who.
5. Dinner
Restaurants on Broad Street and Main Street were out because of their respective artwalks, so I drove down to the Slip to Bistro Bobette. When I'd seen Chef Francis yesterday, he'd told me that pork cheeks were in the house, but wouldn't last long (fallling off the fork-tender, served cassoulet-style with carrots, potatoes, celery, pearl onions no doubt had something to do with that); I ordered almost as soon as I sat down. Bartender Olivier immediately introduced me to a Welsh-born chap who moved to RVA from L.A. yesterday. Full of presumptions, I asked him if he wanted company. He did. Cotes de Ventoux Les Blaques, a rhubarb/vanilla rum cocktail and blood orange wine came next. If I am to be believed, scintillating conversation, extensive laughter and loads of innuendo also followed. His version would be, "They had a chat and he buggered off," but not before acknowledging that men give women their power (thus proving that he has a clue). Note: he did not bugger off; I left him sitting at the bar with lipstick kisses on both cheeks, European-style. He'd already stated how much he wanted that. Welcome to Richmond.
To-do list done.
1. Pre-artwalk party at Emrick Flats
I'd been eager to see the inside of these condos since they'd opened and I finally got the chance when music friends invited me to a party in their sensationally art-decorated home. I met J-Ward neighbors, music lovers and three people who recognized me although I couldn't reciprocate. Coolest elements of the building: the old elevator that would move the cars from floor to floor when it was a showroom and the rooftop deck, perfect for watching fireworks from both the Diamond and RIR. The view is stunning; who knew how many rooftop gardens there were in Jackson Ward? My friends have even slept up there. I aspire to sleep on a roof with someone I love.
2. Gallery 5 opening
Upon walking in, a G5 stalwart comes up with a guy in tow and introduces me saying, "And here's a woman who looks as good from the back as she does from the front." The stranger introduces himself as a solo transAtlantic sailor ("I did it twice. Both ways!"). He also tells me he was the first white guy in Carver and my friend informs me that he's an incredibly talented furniture maker. "Wanna come over now and see my etchings and I'll make you dinner?" he asks. I am tickled to hear that chestnut of a line. When I politely decline he tells me that I'm missing the chance of a lifetime. Damn! Again?
3. Metro Gallery and ADA Gallery openings
The group show at Metro contains a drawing with my favorite title of the evening: "When We Get There, I Will Love You More" by Carly Troncale. Over at ADA, Kate Woodliffe's fabric collages convey a sense of unsewn whimsy in cloth, but I realize her hands must have become gnarled and cramped from so much precise cutting. I see various guests from the party earlier, receive a compliment on my bangs and get invited to a house show in Monroe Ward. I chalk it up to Tinkerbelle hovering over me from a collage above.
4. Reynolds Gallery opening (late addition)
One of the paintings in my friends' apartment at the Emrick Flats had been by a student of artist Heide Trepanier, and after admiring the follower, I couldn't resist going to see the teacher's opening. As is always the case at Reynolds, local art luminaries were in attendance (Richard Roth, Joe Seipel) and and the place was crowded with artsy types having earnest conversations. Trepanier's large-scale works were fluid, detailed and defined by color. A woman says to me, "Who would have thought those colors go together?' about a piece with pinkish red, aqua blue and pine green shapes. Heide Trepanier, that's who.
5. Dinner
Restaurants on Broad Street and Main Street were out because of their respective artwalks, so I drove down to the Slip to Bistro Bobette. When I'd seen Chef Francis yesterday, he'd told me that pork cheeks were in the house, but wouldn't last long (fallling off the fork-tender, served cassoulet-style with carrots, potatoes, celery, pearl onions no doubt had something to do with that); I ordered almost as soon as I sat down. Bartender Olivier immediately introduced me to a Welsh-born chap who moved to RVA from L.A. yesterday. Full of presumptions, I asked him if he wanted company. He did. Cotes de Ventoux Les Blaques, a rhubarb/vanilla rum cocktail and blood orange wine came next. If I am to be believed, scintillating conversation, extensive laughter and loads of innuendo also followed. His version would be, "They had a chat and he buggered off," but not before acknowledging that men give women their power (thus proving that he has a clue). Note: he did not bugger off; I left him sitting at the bar with lipstick kisses on both cheeks, European-style. He'd already stated how much he wanted that. Welcome to Richmond.
To-do list done.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
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?
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?
Friday, June 4, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, December 4, 2009
CousCous>Six Burner>First Friday
It was a progressive sort of an evening, with one location change after another. The action began at CousCous to meet up with Theater Goddess and her theater friends. Foolish me, I forgot to wear my "blacks," like theater types seem to do. I joined a group of almost a dozen women and ten of them had on all black and I'm in a bright green shirt, burgundy lace tights and a jean skirt. Oops.
Even more shocking than my color faux pas, though, was entering CousCous now that it's smoke-free. It no longer felt like walking into an opium den with a haze over the bar. It certainly made eating more pleasurable, not that I wouldn't have enjoyed my mega-bowl of Harira Soup with its braised lamb, wild rice and veggies with or without smoke. There were some nice big chunks of lamb in it, along with plenty of shredded bits cooked to the ultimate tenderness. I shared with others, causing several people to regret not ordering it.
T.G. and I then adjourned to Six Burner for Chef Phillip Denny's recent award-winning Pig Trotter Croquettes with pardon peppers, roasted corn powder and pepper sauce. If this was the dish that came in second place at the March of Dimes competition, I probably need to taste whatever came in first. The crispy, flavorful outside covered a rich pork inside and the smokey pardons were the perfect accompaniment; we shared an order and next time I want the entire order to myself.
Dessert was eggnog creme brulee with caramelized Winesap apple compote and a mini gingerbread man. I think the holiday season officially kicked off for me when I first tasted that eggnog flavor. The compote screamed "apples are in season!" and the cookie, well, I've been upfront about my love of ginger snaps; the combo was wonderful.
Returning to J-Ward for First Fridays, I was surprised to discover that all the street lights were out. The Ward was a dark place except for front porch lights,holiday decoration lights and, natch, the usual massive police presence on Broad Street. The darkness added a cool ambiance to gallery walking and really made the downtown lights stand out against the night sky. Maybe the city used up all its wattage on the Grand Illumination earlier tonight and red-headed step-child J-Ward paid the price.
It didn't matter to me; I can negotiate my neighborhood with or without light. Not so for visitors, however. I passed a group of pretty young things clearly not from the Ward and heard one of them say, "Well, duh, we're on Marshall Street." No, honey, you're on Clay Street, I corrected her, just not in so many words. For them, the street lights may have helped.
Ghostprint's show, "Unseen Versailles" was a beautiful collection of photographs from behind the scenes at Versailles; I especially liked the washes of color painted on the walls behind the photos. Metro Space's "Too Big to Fail" consisted of woodcuts and prints by Cannondale Press. Most were available for only $20 a piece. As a huge fan of printmaking, I would have loved to have bought one. Gallery 5, as usual, provided both music and art, including VCU students' well-done "Project Winterfood."
I lingered at G5, listening to My Diamond Center on stage, but I'm seeing them Sunday night, so I decided to wind down my progressive evening. I very much enjoyed a night of constantly changing venues, always keeping things fresh. As a local barber shop's sign says (much to my daily delight), "Come on in and get fresh!" Didn't I just?
Even more shocking than my color faux pas, though, was entering CousCous now that it's smoke-free. It no longer felt like walking into an opium den with a haze over the bar. It certainly made eating more pleasurable, not that I wouldn't have enjoyed my mega-bowl of Harira Soup with its braised lamb, wild rice and veggies with or without smoke. There were some nice big chunks of lamb in it, along with plenty of shredded bits cooked to the ultimate tenderness. I shared with others, causing several people to regret not ordering it.
T.G. and I then adjourned to Six Burner for Chef Phillip Denny's recent award-winning Pig Trotter Croquettes with pardon peppers, roasted corn powder and pepper sauce. If this was the dish that came in second place at the March of Dimes competition, I probably need to taste whatever came in first. The crispy, flavorful outside covered a rich pork inside and the smokey pardons were the perfect accompaniment; we shared an order and next time I want the entire order to myself.
Dessert was eggnog creme brulee with caramelized Winesap apple compote and a mini gingerbread man. I think the holiday season officially kicked off for me when I first tasted that eggnog flavor. The compote screamed "apples are in season!" and the cookie, well, I've been upfront about my love of ginger snaps; the combo was wonderful.
Returning to J-Ward for First Fridays, I was surprised to discover that all the street lights were out. The Ward was a dark place except for front porch lights,holiday decoration lights and, natch, the usual massive police presence on Broad Street. The darkness added a cool ambiance to gallery walking and really made the downtown lights stand out against the night sky. Maybe the city used up all its wattage on the Grand Illumination earlier tonight and red-headed step-child J-Ward paid the price.
It didn't matter to me; I can negotiate my neighborhood with or without light. Not so for visitors, however. I passed a group of pretty young things clearly not from the Ward and heard one of them say, "Well, duh, we're on Marshall Street." No, honey, you're on Clay Street, I corrected her, just not in so many words. For them, the street lights may have helped.
Ghostprint's show, "Unseen Versailles" was a beautiful collection of photographs from behind the scenes at Versailles; I especially liked the washes of color painted on the walls behind the photos. Metro Space's "Too Big to Fail" consisted of woodcuts and prints by Cannondale Press. Most were available for only $20 a piece. As a huge fan of printmaking, I would have loved to have bought one. Gallery 5, as usual, provided both music and art, including VCU students' well-done "Project Winterfood."
I lingered at G5, listening to My Diamond Center on stage, but I'm seeing them Sunday night, so I decided to wind down my progressive evening. I very much enjoyed a night of constantly changing venues, always keeping things fresh. As a local barber shop's sign says (much to my daily delight), "Come on in and get fresh!" Didn't I just?
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