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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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God bless the Dead Milkmen again!

>> this is what I wrote on Sunday <<

Saturday night I went to Spaceland to see Of Montreal. They were great! Hilary bought me an early birthday present in the form of a cd that I wanted. I love presents.

Sunday we are going to a Taurean friend Tracy’s birthday fête; the theme is Cuba in the 50s. I am going to have to run out and rummage around some second-hand stores to complete my outfit. Everything hinges on a red rose that is downstairs near the front yard. It will eventually find its way into my coiffure. I think the Cuban theme is just an excuse to drink mojitos.

I was on the phone with my mother yesterday, when I asked her what she would suggest for a “Cuban” outfit. Being Latina, I thought she would have some good ideas. She said, “Just wear a tight skirt, a tight shirt, heels and cheap jewelry. Lots of cheap jewelry.” Nothing like the Mexican perspective on Cuban women.

My mother actually has a great Cuban friend whom I love. Her name is Isabel, but everyone calls her La China. Apparently when she was a little baby, Isabel had a big round head and little tiny eyes, so her family thought she looked Chinese. Hence, La China. Cubans may be tacky, but they sure have a great sense of humor. Ha.

>> this is what I wrote today <<

The Cuban party was alright. I think the three of us (me, Terence, Hilary) were the only ones NOT in school at Art Center. Two kids live in a giant loft downtown, and that’s where Tracy had her party. Terence felt really out of it because he is neither in school nor with work. Tracy did a great job of creating mood in such a cavernous space, and the mojitos were delicious. There was even an assortment of Cuban savories and sweets which was a nice bonus, but the big drawback was the cat. We had to leave early because I started getting sniffly. You know, we probably would have left early anyway--us old folks can’t party like it’s 1999 on a Sunday night and we didn't really fit in.

I have to say that for art students, those kids seemed damn boring.

During the day yesterday, we went to open studios at the Brewery downtown, some big complex of buildings that house artists and people who just want to live like artists. So much bad art! Jesus, it’s criminal. One guy had 10 framed photos of Cuba, prompting Terence to ask, “Is it possible to take a BAD picture of Cuba?” We saw a few photographers’ spaces and work, and I am convinced more and more that people no longer know how to print images. The contrast was horrible on a lot of the prints, either too much or not enough, making the pictures look way too snappy or incredibly flat. And if you’re not using the viewfinder as your cropping tool, then at least use an Xacto knife and fake some decent composition.

There was also a lot of bad metal sculpture. I guess if you know how to weld, and you get a bunch of scrap together, you too can make a dog entirely out of hardware! Like a primitive Sony Aibo for the Burning Man set.

Only one person had anything mildly interesting. He was doing multiple color linocuts of old signage. And his studio was pristine, and he was explaining the printmaking process to visitors which was really cool. He was even doing a little demo for those who were unfamiliar with the method, and I appreciate that kind of thoroughness. His work was probably a little too design-y, but I liked it anyway.

Another annoying thing about the Art Walk as it was called was the profusion of “creative” older women in straw hats. If you’ve ever taken art classes at a community college, you know what I’m taking about. They wear those blowsy, tent-like jumpers that drop to the floor and make them look like thick Giotto frescos, and when they’re feeling particularly eccentric, they put fabric flowers in their straw hats. Anyway, there were a lot of those, as well as other very large (the corn-fed variety) Americans who managed to block every doorway, hallway, and walkway. I guess to put a positive spin on this I should say that it’s refreshing to see a bunch of average folk out enjoying art, not just the usual art fags who’ll dance to anything by Depeche Mode.

9:38 a.m. - 2002-04-22

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