A Visit to the South End

Yesterday my pal Joe and I went to the South End for a fabola French/Cambodian lunch and some gallery hopping. We met at the Mass Ave Orange Line T stop which provided some grand entertainment. 

There was awesome people watching—especially this young woman with the most massive and amazing hair. No, I didn’t dare sneak a pic BUT if a lion had a few dozen braids mixed in with a massively poufed up and out, long mane, well, that was what this babe was rockin.’ It was amazing.

There were stupid promos. The ad copy on the hoarding, at right, seems to be framed as the answer to a Jeopardy question but how does putting up with endless accent jokes relate to vitamins and electrolytes? What could the query possibly have been to get this as answer? Name three things a Bostonian has IF they buy VitaminWater? It reeks of frat boy, marketing intern trying too hard to seem funny, hip, with-it.

As I was puzzling over this particular ad FAIL, I noticed something way better—the six story tall image of a man standing on floating dock on the side of the smooth blue glass Hancock Tower. Brilliant and beautiful! Perfect!
Apparently it’s a mondo sheet of perforated vinyl, imprinted with a magnified photograph. Imagine designing this, coming up with the idea and then executing it. Man-o-man, SO much fun! If I was a young artist bee, this, THIS would be the sort of art I’d wanna be doing.

And then Joe and I walked down to the South End for art viewing on a smaller scale.

The Adelson Gallery is currently featuring Federico Uribe’s chilling sculptures. There were foxes chasing rabbits, tigers and lions all constructed of bullet shells. The lion with a bullet flower bouquet in his mouth was both beautiful and uttering disturbing.

The other total stand out was Gallerie Cubana. Swear ta Bast, I fell in love with each and every artist there.

Sandra Dooley’s graceful, Chagall-esque work just makes me smile. Reminds me a bit of Holly Sears’ tremendous work.

Juan Carlos Vazquez Lima’s  mixed media works on paper reminded me of Linda Baker-Cimini’s witty, odd and totes inviting work.

If I had the dosh, I would’ve walked out with one by each of them.

The women of Edel Bordón’s portraits seemed shrouded in mist, as though despite being seen up close, they were at a great psychic distance. I found it hard to step away from La Ultima Cumbre in particular. Strange, intriguing, absorbing.

Orestes Gaulhiac, Dairan Fernandez de la Fuente, Eduardo Guerra—all just slayed me and there was more. The gallery’s not huge by any means but I could’ve spent the entire afternoon there.

Jen, clearly, needs to see this stuff. It's a hell of a palate cleanser after the new, NEW, experimental work we viewed at the end of our Montreal extravaganza. Maybe Cuba's where we need to go on our next art tour, eh?