Sunday May 15, 2005
. . . to friends and readers: the following mad art-dash last night was not very well planned nor communicated. In the future we shall endeavour to do a better job letting you know what all there is to see. On to the shows . . .
A marionette show outside failed to dazzle us. I guess there was too much ahead to sit and give it the time it needed. Not pictured is a very large installation by José Bedia in the entrance gallery.
Maria Jose Arjona gets her performance on at Damien B.. The crowd did not give her the proper respect, probably because she was between the entrance to the gallery and the Chivas Regal bar (with regard to which, by the way: nice).
An installation at the Bikeo Gallery.
Outside, hip-hop on the street.
A wonderful photo and video show, Swamp Cabbage, by Julie Lara Kahn at Locust about old-school Florida. The video included mesmerizing footage of a herder demonstrating where the term “cracker” comes from.
We caught the tiniest little bit of a performance at the Carla Fache gallery. Weird and wonderful, unlike the MOR abstract expressionist sofa art inside.
Photos of Cuba are cliché in Miami. These (at Filtro, tho, were worth stopping for.
At the Food Culture Museum across the street was the bountiful food tasting(!) portion of the aforementioned Swamp Cabbage exhibition. Wild hog sausage, snapping-turtle stew, fried alligator, buttermilk biscuits, and much else was sampled. By the way, this is one of the neatest places in the neighborhood, and sadly, appears to be up for sale.
Erika Somogyi at Rocket Projects. Can you guess who the artist is?
Our evening concludes at Churchill’s, where several loud/fast bands set the stage for oVo, on tour from Italy (Cohen suspected them of faking on this point, but was proven incorrect, and ultimately won over, gushingly buying a cd and a t-shirt). They started with the thickest sound imaginable from a duo, and built from there, to searing heights of sludgy power.
Eventually the audience could not limit itself to spectatorship and, in a furious burst of activity, the band tossed off its instruments, a burst of prerecorded marching band music came in. Things came to a head, as the audience and band danced, united.
In the second half, oVo emerges victorious, having switched to violin and a percussion instrument made of a bass guitar and signal processors. Astounding.
Ladies and gentlemen, Cohen encourages you to come see the music of our time (or something): Lightning Bolt plays Churchill’s tonight, and the enthusiasm from fans of the group we’ve spoken to is enough to build up wildly unreasonable expectations. Not, however, to be missed.