Comics and Chalk

Today's walk took me to a birthday bash. Poe was turning 206.

I figured as long as I was out on this sunny morning, why not head down to the Poe Museum and partake of the festivities. I went a few years ago and had thoroughly enjoyed a ride in a horse-drawn wagon around spots central to Poe's tenure in Richmond.

Honestly, I was surprised at how many people were already there before noon because this is a 13-hour celebration that goes until midnight tonight with a champagne toast in the Poe shrine. Maybe others like me have plans for later and wanted to get their Poe fix early.

Although, admit it, there's something not quite right about celebrating Poe in the bright light of a sunny day.

I paused for a few minutes to listen to a group of women mystery writers known as the Sisters in Crime talking about the process of mystery writing and publishing in the big tent in the garden before opening the massive door to the exhibition building to see "Re-imagining Poe: The Poe Illustrations of Richard Corben," a retrospective collection of comic illustrations Corben did from 1974 to the present.

Especially compelling was Corben's observation that illustrating the same Poe story at different points in his life resulted in very different interpretations. His 1974 drawings for "The Raven" reflected a young man's take on the story: a guy is sad he lost his girlfriend. But in his later works for "The Raven," he digs deeper into the devastating depths of sorrow that come with age and life experience.

Upstairs in a blood red room was an exhibit of James Carling's 43 sketches for "The Raven," all of which were deemed too odd to be published in his lifetime, a brief 29 years. From today's perspective, they're just suitably shadowy and evocative of the story, but apparently not to 19th century eyes.

What was most interesting about Carling was that he'd gotten his start by drawing on sidewalks for the pocket change of passersby. Today, there's a James Carling International Pavement Competition annually in Liverpool to honor him.

The final exhibit by VCU grad and local artist Nicole Pisamiello was of intricate shadow boxes depicting "Chambers of the Red Death." While another woman and I bent to study them in the darkened room, her partner said, "Yea, they're cute. Can we go?"

So many things I could have said to him, but I refrained.

Outside, I spotted costumed re-enactors, including one handsome gentleman clad in a frock coat and top hat, leaning on a walking stick, checking his cell phone with another. It was a bit of a buzz kill.

Under the tent, I saw the band The Embalmers - each wearing a tassled red fez - warming up. A museum employee scurried by with an enormous birthday cake for later. I hated to miss the walking tour of the neighborhood later this afternoon, but alas.

Who knows, maybe I can make it back over later tonight for one of the performances, maybe "Telltale Heart" and a toast to the man who gave us the mystery story.

We'll see where the day takes me. Like a good story, no way to know how it ends until I get there.

Conditions of Bliss

Just when I feel like the biggest nerd in the world, James makes me feel better about myself.

Because on a sunny Saturday afternoon when I'm going to a lecture about Poe at St. John's Church and can't find it, he's the one I run into who leads me to the right place.

Although James' cool factor is exponentially higher than mine (he's a bartender and musician and girls trail behind him like bread crumbs), he's at practically every geeky lecture I go to.

So together we headed into St. John's Visitors' Center (two girls were waiting for James inside; I rest my case) to hear Richard Kopley tell of "My Adventures with Poe."

Turns out Kopley's been hot on the Poe trail for the last thirty years, ever since he was in graduate school.

He was full of interesting facts, like about recently discovered documents showing that Poe filed for bankruptcy in Philly, a previously unknown fact that has never been mentioned in any book about Poe.

I was intrigued to hear about Poe's literary romances wooing women with his words but keeping things non-physical.

Honestly, I'd prefer both.

When he mentioned Poe losing his Richmond job at the Southern Literary Messenger "probably because of his drinking," James turned to me and said, "That's very Richmond."

I tried to keep it silent but I laughed long and hard at that.

Kopley's habit of using finger quotes every time he quoted someone also gave me reason to smile.

But my favorite part of the lecture was when he shared Poe's four conditions of bliss; I tried to calculate how I matched up to Poe's definition of bliss as I listened.

1. Free exercise in the open air: I gave myself an A+ on this one since a day doesn't go by that I don't take my walk through the streets of RVA or wherever I happen to be.

2. The love of a woman: I'm going to presume that the pronoun changes for the females seeking bliss, meaning I am a complete failure on this one. Still seeking the love of a man, meaning I get an F here.

3. Contempt of ambition: Actually, I'm not a particularly ambitious person, always preferring to focus on life over job and material success. Several past bosses have lamented this.  Oh, well. B+

4. An object of unceasing pursuit: Does happiness count? I feel like I've always made personal happiness my objective, even when it resulted in making questionable choices, so I'll give myself a B-.

Obviously Kopley's object of pursuit had been Poe and during the Q & A period, he shared even more stories about the man who never stopped trying to vindicate the trash-talking of his beloved mother.

After the lecture, a wreath was laid on that mother's grave outside the church.

James went off down the street with two girls.

Me? I went off in unceasing pursuit of the love of a man. I'm trying to get my bliss points up.

The (Not) Unhappy Hours

There are worse ways to start an evening than with an unhappy hour or two.

The Poe Museum was doing their monthly Unhappy Hours social coinciding with the opening of their new exhibit "Price and Poe: A Match Made in Hell." How could I not check that  out?

Arriving just as a friend did, we walked into the walled garden moments after a performance began. A costumed interpreter was speaking and singing as Poe's mother, the actress Eliza Poe.

She told her life story, sang some period songs and did two monologues, one from Romeo and Juliet and another written for Eliza Poe by a fan. Best line: "And female fortitude shall conquer pain." An enduring sentiment, for sure.

After the performance, a devil's food birthday cake (with a photograph of his face iced onto the cake) was cut in honor of tomorrow being the 100th anniversary of Vincent Price being born.

The "Match Made in Hell" exhibit is small, but illuminating. I don't think I realized that Price had starred in eleven adaptations of Poe's work. And I haven't seen a one of them.

And I had certainly never seen a life mask of Price, right down to his moustache hairs, done five years before his death.

A highlight of the evening was running onto one of the nude models from Gallery 5's recent Disrobed exhibit.

"Last time I saw you, you were naked," I said, sidling up to him. His laugh was so loud and hearty that it made heads turn so it was totally worth mentioning.

Leaving the formerly nude behind, I drove to Sprout to meet a friend for dinner to find the place packed. Luckily my friend had already secured a table because people kept coming in, too.

My friend already knew that he was going to get the sliders (and why not considering how amazing they are) but I succumbed to the pizetta of the day.

With Faith Farms Food sausage, Dave and Dee's mushrooms, bechamel sauce and feta/cheddar, it was mind-blowingly good. So good that when I gave another friend a taste, he ordered one for himself. Our server called it the meatzetta for its generous amount of spicy sausage.

Part of the reason for our early arrival was the "surprise" first performance of a new local band, the Blood Vows.

The inaugural set was short, only four songs, but full-on hard and energetic. Fronting the group was band photographer P.J. Sykes who turned out to have a whole different persona with a guitar in his hand rather than a camera.

I said it then and I'll say it now. He was a monster and I mean that in the best possible way. Go hard or go home doesn't begin to cover it.

The Cinnamon band followed and by then the room was packed and getting warm. I felt myself glowing but most of the guys had a full-on sweat going.

Every time I see this duo play again, I am more impressed with how melodic they are, what good songwriters they are and just how good they are at harmonizing, non-stop crashing drumming and shifting dynamics. Very compelling stuff, all.

Silversmiths were next and the crowd thinned noticeably, but it was 11:30 by then and a school night, so to speak, so perhaps it was understandable.

Last but by no means least were Snowy Owls, a group with somewhat hushed vocals but big fuzzy guitar, bass and drums.

For a lover of soundscapes like yours truly, their borderline shoegaze effects are the stuff of sonic dreams.

A good-sized crowd stayed for their set, confident that this was the best place to be for music in Richmond this Thursday night (okay, Friday morning by now).

A talented musician who had been up north for a while was happily back tonight, a friend cut loose and got uncharacteristically loopy on a school night, and just before the last song of the evening, a semi-drunk guy stepped down hard on my sandaled foot (and spent the rest of the show apologizing for it).

There are worse ways to end an evening than with throbbing toes. Fortunately I'd been lulled into a musical euphoria, so I barely felt it at all.

I can try beginning my night with unhappy hours all I want, but I never quite get the hang of not enjoying myself when friends and good music are involved.

And sausage. One can never underestimate the happiness quotient of a good pig product. Fact.

The Spell of the Poe Garden

The garden at the Poe Museum has been every, very good to me. Make no mistake, I love the museum and its interesting exhibits (here) but I have some downright magical memories from that garden. And tonight I was back.

A few years ago, local band Mermaid Skeletons did a CD-release show there on the hottest, most humid night imaginable. Buzz was huge on the show, so I got there early to ensure getting in. The scores of people who arrived closer to show time were reduced to standing on the other side of the brick wall or, more painfully, scaling the wall to see a performance that took our collective breath away. When I think of that night, it is the beauty of their sound surrounded by the palpable heat that I recall most.

Even more recently, I went to an early fall screening of Hitchcock's Vertigo in the garden. Unfortunately, it had begun to rain about an hour before showtime. The Poe staff cleverly erected a canopy over the garden and the small crowd sat under it, with the rain pouring all round us as the suspense unfolded. It was like being in a suspended universe, away from all reality. There could not have been a cooler or more eerie place to be in Richmond on that dark, wet night.

Tonight was another of the museum's Unhappy Hours, an excuse to mingle in the garden, listen to music (sometimes they have readings too), nibble munchies, check out the museum and partake of the cash bar. The theme for the evening was "The Balloon Hoax" which was the title used in collections of a newspaper article Poe wrote about a supposed balloon trip across the Atlantic, which was later found to be a hoax. To complete the theme, there were even balloon races (you had to be there).

As a tribute to Poe's parents, the music tonight was either English (Poe's mother) or Irish (Poe's father), mainly traditional folk music like "Danny Boy" and "Greensleeves." If you're going to be serenaded with a haunting female voice, the Poe Museum garden is the perfect place to do so. My friend and I planted our seats right beside the fountain, the better to feel the coolness of the moving water and enjoy the co- mingling sounds of water and woman.

The event only runs from 6-9 p.m., so we strolled over to Sumo San afterwards for a light snack (edamame, potstickers and spider roll, oh my) and to chat, since we'd not talked during the music naturally. Victor was not in the house demonstrating sake bombs tonight, but we sat at the bar and watched the nimble fingers of the sushi chef and that was entertainment enough.

Or maybe we'd just been so charmed by the Poe Garden that we didn't require anything further; it's that spell that the place casts on a person. I'm guessing that's why some people tie the knot there.

May as well use the magic to one's own purposes, no?

Of Many Men and Moviegoing with Poe

I have discovered the place for an unattached girl to eat lunch if she wants to be completely surrounded by men.

City Dogs in the Slip.

Waiting at the bar for my friend to arrive, I looked around the place and noticed that except for the servers and me, everyone in the place had a Y chromosome.

Since I was the one who had suggested City Dogs to my (male) friend for lunch, I'm not sure what this says about me, but it was glaringly noticeable.

There were 13 dog choices, not including the corn dog nuggets which I consider beneath mention, although sure enough, a guy came in, perched on the stool next to me and ordered them.

I had the Coney Island Sabrett Dog (chili, mustard, onions and shredded cheese) and my friend had the Boston Dog (sauerkraut, bacon and relish) and we shared an order of onion rings.

Next to us, two guys started with beers and shots before moving on to their dogs; theirs was a manly lunch for sure.

Afterwards, our destination was the Poe Museum for the Poe Goes to the Movies exhibit of posters and memorabilia from Poe-related film projects.

In several cases, there were movie posters from multiple countries for the same movie. 1963's The Raven, for instance, had U.S., Czech and French verisons.

Notable was that Jack Nicholson was in that film and pictured on one of the posters; he looked so young as to be almost unrecognizable.

Along with the posters for The Murders in the Rue Morgue was a letter from Universal Pictures sending stills of the soon-to-be-released 1932 film to the Poe Museum for display.

I was fascinated to see that the letter was signed by Joe Weil, the Director of Exploitation. Is that a great job title or what?

I'm willing to bet that there are no more officially titled Directors of Exploitation in any field in 2010.

The poster for the 1968 version of Spirits of the Dead billed itself as "Edgar Allen Poe's Ultimate Orgy," an apt come-on for that free-wheeling period of the sexual revolution.

The film starred Brigitte Bardot, scantily clad on the poster, but also featured an early appearance by a very young Jane Fonda in a small role.

For whatever reason, Brigitte and Jane must have seemed the perfect embodiment of a Poe orgy in the sixties.

Promotional materials for the films that were sent to theaters provided a chuckle (references to the "French wench" in one) as did a Vincent Price doll, commanding in a cape inside his little box.

Price appeared in so many of the Poe films that he will forever be remembered for those types of roles, but who exactly would want an action figure of him?

We found it vintage funny.

We finished up our visit with a short film version of The Tell-Tale Heart upstairs in the tiny room under the eaves.

A chilly and dark spot, it was ideal to digest our dogs and enjoy our last taste of Poe for the day.

"Dissemble no more...It is the beating of his hideous heart!"