I'm not showing anywhere this first Friday. Woah. It's a relief, sorta. I burnt so much creative energy for Feathers, Scales, Shells, that I don't mind taking a little time to refuel. Plus, it allows me to be untethered for the festivities of the evening.
The PoetHouse is showcasing some of our newest resident artists contemplating the theme of Security along with the community gallery of the TBD Loft. The second tier, so to speak, of the Maslow's Hierarchy, Megan McGuinness has created a fort out of security blankets, Eli Goodall has written a poem to go along with his typewriter (inviting you to anonymously present your flaws), Graham Goodwin has used his macro lens to examine vices that often become security blankets, and Jo Lundberg has a medicine cabinet full of candy perscriptions for anyone who wants to self medicate. Not to mention new work by Tom Monson, Sarah McMurray, Sean Anderson and the like.
I also plan on heading over to Common Table at around seven to hear my friends and co-workers the Rural Demons play their dark alt-country. They don't know it yet, but I plan on joining their band next week.
Then there is all the other art around town, and the music, and me playing matchmaker. Shhhh. Don't tell.
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