Art Face, Part II

When Sharan and I went to the bhangra concert at the museum, we had to buy tickets for general admission. As it turns out, though, those tickets are good for two consecutive days. So the morning after the concert, I returned the museum on my own to visit the parts that I had not seen during my first trip – namely, the galleries in facilities nearby, not in the main building.

I went first to the Perelman Center, across the street to the north of the main PMA. It is dedicated to contemporary and modern art, and generally art forms that deviate from the typical paintings and sculpture: textiles, prints, commercial art, etc. The Perelman Center is a very large, beautifully-constructed building, but does not have that much in it, and took up all of 45 minutes of my time.

Upstairs was a kid-friendly exhibition of Western children’s and adults’ fashion from the 18^th to the 20^th centuries, showing fashion changes and trends, and demonstrating that for much of the earlier years of that period children’s clothing was like adult clothing in miniature. There were a number of young boy’s dresses on display, with descriptions discussing the fact that little boys would adopt men's clothing when they "graduated" to the world of men and were no longer under the exclusive care of their mothers and the women of the family. I couldn't help connecting this exhibit to my reading of The Second Sex, and the fact that fashion would have represented a social form of "castration" - women and girls were not allowed to, or considered capable of, growing past infancy, but always remained under male guardianship.

Downstairs was a gallery of graphic design by Paula Scher and Seymour Chwast:

…and costumes by Ronald Shamask, several of which were modeled on paper origami designs:

The print gallery included this piece by Morris Graves, called The Unregimented One, which I enjoyed:

When my housemate Lena saw me pull this image up on my computer just now, she did a double-take and asked me if I was training cockroaches…

I left the Perelman Center and walked down the Parkway to the Rodin branch of the museum. It’s a beautiful space, surrounded by gardens outside, with The Thinker brooding on the steps:

…and The Gates of Hell at the entrance:

Inside is a large collection of smaller sculptures, with a whole room devoted to his studies and sculptures of Balzac. A number of sculptures contain figures that are repeated in multiple works. It was intriguing to see how Rodin recycled his figures/characters (many of whom are also present in The Gates), but did mean there was somewhat less variety in the collection.

I ended the morning by eating lunch in a nearby park… until a man approached one of the copper statues in the waterless-for-the-winter fountain and started hitting it violently in the head with a water bottle and yelling.

I left then.

Music Face

Let’s talk music.

Bluegrass:

Perhaps my new favorite thing in Philly these days is bluegrass night at the speakeasy on 45^th and Locust. “Speakeasy?” – you say. “I thought Prohibition ended in 1933!” It’s a place called Fiume, but it has no telephone, no website, and its entrance is unmarked. Essentially you have to know someone who knows about it in order to know it even exists, giving it an air of exclusivity, if not secrecy. Hence, “speakeasy”. It occupies a single tiny room, and to get in you have to pass through the Ethiopian restaurant below (called Abyssinia – on my list to try out sometime) and go up a flight of dingy stairs. Inside there’s a nice little bar, everyone is super friendly, and they sell $3 PBR, which is fantastic.

On Thursday nights at about 10 (for a $3 cover charge), a group of 4 people sets up in the window and plays bluegrass with incredible energy for a couple of hours. There’s a banjo, a guitar (the guitarist usually does vocals), a bass, and a really cool instrument I had never seen before called a dobro (here’s an example of it being played: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEOY06U6JW8). The audience crowds in – there’s only ever barely enough standing room, and you can forget about seating. When I found out that there was a no-dancing policy, I thought it was a joke… but it’s a real thing, the reason being that dancing would disturb the restaurant guests downstairs. I tap my foot, anyway. It would be impossible not to.

I’ve been to bluegrass night twice now, both times with my friend Evan, and intend to keep going. It’s something that could be done alone without feeling too much like a loser, because everyone crowds in so much that it’s hard to tell who’s there with whom, there’s no way to avoid touching basically everyone around you, so it’s hard to feel like you aren’t part of a group, and it’s so loud it’s hard to talk anyway.

Politicized folk-rock:

Rather spontaneously one night a few weeks ago, my friend Renee and I went to see Erin McKeown perform at Johnny Brenda’s in North Philly: http://www.johnnybrendas.com/. I didn’t know who Erin McKeown was, and Renee is only somewhat familiar with her, so we went without knowing exactly what to expect.

Renee and I hung out at the bar and had some good beers and a good chat while we listened to the opening performer.

The opening performer didn’t leave a very big impression on me one way or the other, with the result that I can’t remember her name.

Erin McKeown, on the other hand, had a super-energetic stage presence, and an engaging personality.

She cracked jokes, and was silly, and even performed her song “Proof” backwards… but also got serious. Her concert was meant to promote her new album, Manifestra, which she explained is about her “personal politics” – undoubtedly a left-leaning perspective, and critical of a number of long-standing U.S. policies on a number of issues from immigration to oil. The lyrics of her song “Baghdad to the Bayou” were co-authored by Rachel Maddow (whose book Drift I read this summer, and liked very much. It is a critical history of U.S. military policy and how the process of deciding to go to war has changed over time in this country.) An excerpt from this song: “who is watching the watcher? / whose hand is in the pie? / who is reaping profits / on the back of our coast lines? / for every feather oiled / for every katrina refugee / for every soldier in harm's way / we want accountability.”

Erin McKeown talked at length and very eloquently about her visit to the “wall” – a fence, really – that is being built in the desert between the U.S. and Mexico to halt undocumented border-crossings. Though she didn’t express any specific alternative action, she spoke of the need for reform in immigration policy. Immigration is an issue close to my heart, so I was grateful for the sentiments she expressed in the song she sang about her visit to the wall. Someone took a video of the performance, and posted it on YouTube!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZmSKQoKWvc.

Bhangra [Photo credits go to Sharan]:

During my last trip to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, described in a previous post, I learned that the museum has a fantastic set of events called “Art after 5”: http://www.philamuseum.org/artafter5/... And bhangra musician Bikram Singh, who my friend Sharan is familiar with, performed last Friday!

If you’re not familiar with bhangra, here’s a modern bhangra medley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSJCv8g_7zc. And an example of Bikram Singh’s music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBtqhVJhAoY. I am amused by the fact that he is featured riding a tractor.

Going to the PMA at night felt a little strange. The night lights gave a different view of the city and of the PMA itself than I’d ever seen.

Sharan and I arrived late for the performance, but it was definitely worth going for the final half-hour! The set-up was a little awkward, in the main atrium of the museum with the audience on the steps:

Not really the best placement for dancing, and bhangra is meant to be danced to. People were dancing at the front around the musicians, though, and Sharan and I soon joined them. It was really fun! Bikram Singh was accompanied by a guy on the keyboard, which substituted for a one-stringed instrument called the tumbi, and by two guys on the COOLEST DRUMS EVER, called dhol:

For an example of how the dhol is played: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAYbvULODh4

After the performance, I admittedly pressured Sharan into getting Bikram Singh’s autograph:

I'm sure she will treasure it for ever and always :) We then wandered around the museum for a little bit before we left, rather absentmindedly looking at the paintings - because who can calmly contemplate Impressionism when you've got bhangra beats still stuck in your head, making your foot tap?