But we'll call that art and music.
Tonight was Ghostprint Gallery's preview night for "Shapes Not Ours," which opens tomorrow night.
When I got there, a large bearded man sitting in the window cross legged and sipping a beer said to me, "I'd forgotten how civilized these preview nights are."
Yes, aren't they?
Jenna Chew's mixed media works told me that she lives locally. A graphite drawing of Harrison Street Coffee Shop showed faceless customers talking to staff.
A mixed media piece showed booths at Can-Can. But my favorite registered with me before I even saw the title.
The piece depicted three chairs stacked one on top of the other. The moment I saw it, I knew those chairs.
They are the ones that sit outside Garnett's, which was the title of the work.
I hadn't even realized how familiar I was with those random chairs but they were instantly recognizable.
Crystal Cregge's photographs were images of the female body, from the side, from above and from behind.
I was told she uses some sort of light wash to get the painterly effect that gave the photos a gauzy tone.
Word in the gallery was that she has converted her bathroom to a darkroom where she works this magic on her images.
I have to assume she has a second bathroom for more basic functions.
Looking at the photographs, some of which became abstract due to the angle or proximity, I found myself wishing I could be the model for such artistic takes on the female form.
Her photographs were not about perfect female bodies; the figure in "Venus," for example was downright zaftig.
Rather, it was the way the shadows fell, the way the bodies were lit and which curves were accentuated that made the photographs such things of beauty.
Moving on from my reverie imagining myself as the subject of a black and white photo, I continued down Broad Street for an epic event.
Tonight was the Dave Watkins CD Release show and with three other bands playing, it promised a full night of musical delights.
I'd like to say it started on time but
Recent transplant Nelly Kate led off and since I'd seen her before, I knew to expect a compelling voice and endless looping.
With only a guitar (and sad-sounding guitar at that, according to my friend), keyboard and her voice, she created layers of sound to produce dense songs from one small girl.
For her last song, she gave the audience a choice of guitar song or clapping song and the latter won out.
She proceeded to clap different rhythms and overlaid them with her song until the entire effect filled the room.
Finishing, she said, "It's so nice to play with other people who loop."
The first time I'd sen her play, I'd called her a "female Dave Watkins" for exactly that reason.
Tonight's touring band was All My Dear Friends, which was really a guy named Mark who said, "I came all the way from Gainesville, Florida to play my violin for you." And his pedals.
Like Nelly, he built up layers by using multiple things, in his case violin, guitar and voice.
He stopped suddenly when he broke a violin string, asking for volunteers from the audience to entertain while he changed strings.
Pointing at a girl in the front row, he said, "How about you? I know you have a ukulele in your bag!" She declined.
But folkies Lobo Marino quickly brought their acoustic presence to the front, first imitating a looped version of "Animal Hands" and then doing it their way.
"Back to our normally scheduled program," Mark said when they finished.
His soundscapes were both huge and poignant, no doubt due to the violin, which he plucked, bowed and generally did anything he wanted to get sound from it.
His plucking style especially reminded me of Andrew Bird, a sound I like very much.
Lobo Marino began their set with a nod to their predecessor.
"Thanks to Mark. I've never seen anyone go from lovemaking on the violin to hate-f*cking it," Jameson said to much clapped agreement.
The band did a shorter than expected set so as to get to the star of the evening's performance before it got too late and people began leaving (it being a school night and all).
The one new song they did showed a lot of poppiness and rumor has it that their next CD will have more of a poppy feel to it.
The main event was Dave Watkins and his dulcitar and pedals. And on that subject, he said he actually had a pedal called "cave."
That's right, as in "music from a " and a sound I've written volumes about since I'm hugely enamored of it.
Introducing a song "where I sing" (which is not usually the case for Dave), he was about to play "Pangea's Revenge," saying it had cheesy love song lyrics, when he got some audience input.
"Laney said if we got married today, that would be the song that we walked down the aisle to," Jameson shouted to Dave.
"Oh, man, now the pressure's on!" Dave joked.
He played a version of an improvised piece he'd created last weekend that had been compared to Tubular Bells (something he had to Google to get) and then asked for suggestions for a name for the next piece.
We got to hear "Dirt Nap versus the Compost Pile" before Dave did his usual show-closer, "Marshall Street."
It's a stellar piece from the new CD and usually ends with him beating on a drum.
Tonight the three members of Lobo Marino added drumming and tambourine playing to that big finish.
Afterwards, I couldn't resist giving my very best hug to the talented Mr. W, probably the last thing he wanted (or needed) since he was still sweaty from his set.
From there, I had no choice but to drive my usual route home down Marshall Street, listening all the while to "Marshall Street."
Just another satisfying evening at the intersection of art and music.
