Nostalgia for the Basement Days...How to Build An Art Exhibit

By débora Ewing
buy Deconstructed Corvid 1 - Fibonacci
Putting together an art show seems very much like putting together a music album.  Some of you-all may  not remember albums. They told stories and wore cool jackets, sometimes smoked. Dark and enigmatic, glistening in the dim light of somebody's basement while the needle danced over the grooves. God, I miss analog. 

 An exhibit needs to tell a story. Our brains seek patterns but like surprises. We want the A-HA! Like the words I write, my paintings blurt images in quirky detail, narrative a little jumbled like that last dream before you wake up.  As I compile my varied works to hang on the walls of Beanetics Coffee Roasters, I may find a piece doesn't fit, quite, between its compatriots. I can bend the narrative by reordering the pieces so one nuance leads gently to the next. This project wants editing like any other.

 A good whisky and a good perfume are the same way. The first impression may be bold; you're not sure you want it to waft away, but here comes another too irresistible to risk turning your head. You want to feel edgy, risky; then you want to land somewhere comfortable after that. 

 ...and you want the last impression to linger with you all night as you walk the darkened streets to home.

 What are you doing this weekend? Pick up some d-rings and wire and come over. I've got hammers, Lagavulin, and jelly jars. 

 Further Reading:
The Evolution of Beanetics
This is my other other office, after the pool hall, and it pleases me that we can dress each other up for a few fortnights.

The Alembicated Genie - a Perfume Blog
If you don't know why someone would blog about perfume, just look.  If you get why someone would blog about perfume, definitely look. This is one of my favorite places to wander around. 

 Lou Reed - Berlin
...because that's what we listened to in the basement, wasn't it?  Zeppelin, James Gang, Zappa (of course) but it always came back around to Lou. Now you know exactly how old I am, dontcha?

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