Went to an exurban art op last night mainly to speculate on how it will be much more wonderful after I and my collaborative boys (according to us, we are TEAM A) do our thing in there. That show opens on September 11th, in mere moments in art time.
After that picked up a travel companion and joined *physically, not metaphysically and certainly not scentily in the form of patchouli* the crowd at Maharishi... Mahapotato... oh whatever the fuck they're called... Orchestra.
Then onwards to the best part of the night, to bask in the vinyl luvv of DJ Spooky who was amazing though not as textural as I imagined that he'd be. It was more old school blends and starting and stopping of beats that would have your body grooving in one way and then in another completely different way. I was onstage with Spooky to get the best possible angles of him, his equipment, his laptop, his nice bottle of white wine and his floppity wool hat. I had successfully carved out an area for shooting/dancing/being in front of the stage and when an ARMY t-shirt guy wandered into the circle I looked at him shook my head and he went away. Moments later he reappeared with a candle he had found somewhere in the club, sat on a little apron jutting out from the stage, sat cross-legged and had a real moment - solo.
Spooky Moved.
and now your beloved Nancy will move herself into her darkroom to make art for the masses. Love.