Last night I had a long overdue date with KNS which is always just what I need, just when I need it. We talked about our loves and my career, gossiped tirelessly, bitched about Hartford, our paintings and etc.
I picked her up at the office and took her downtown to the opening of the new City Arts on Pearl Street, a new gallery sharing a building with Theaterworks and the US Army, Navy and Marine Corps recruitment offices. Not kidding. It feels like hanging out at the Pentagon. Undeterred, the Pat Seremet Set crowded the reception, fake burberry scarves inching to and from the bar and appetizer table. The art was lame, or rather, boring. In the gallery, a show of the Robert Lesser collection of pulp art was on view, on loan from the New Britain Museum of American Art, apparently partnering with City Arts. The work is fun, illustrative and certainly popular, but this is a show that went up and came down only a year ago in New Britain. The good news is, City Arts on Pearl seems to have the support of the deep-pocketed suburban art and theater fans. I wish them good luck.
Artist Melanie Carr's work looked great, but unfortunately it was shoved in the back room like a dark family secret. Next time, lets see a living, working artist like Mel in the main gallery. Do something fun and daring and conceivably threatening to the offices of the armed services recruiters! Such an opportunity. I'm an asking and telling homosexual. Lets get transgressive.
stone cold fox. 
City Arts on Pearl and the PentagonLATER; JOHN KELLY-PAVED PARADISE REDUX AT REAL ART WAYS:
Sarah
+ Caroline
John Kelly doing Joni Mitchell, Woodstock
Well, I'm not sure. I'm conflicted. It was interesting and sort of fun. I can relate to obsessive fanaticism for a pop singer. I can relate to the total faggotry of wanting to be somebody so badly that you just have to be her. But near the end of Kelly's performance, I couldn't help but think that this must be exactly what its like to see Lez Zeppelin perform. Totally average. I don't mean to be sentimental, but when the going is this rough I need the real Joni. As art, Paved Paradise Redux is meaningless beyond its sense of postmodern kitsch, irony and sadness, however earnest and heartfelt he obviously wants to be. I'm sick of intentional failure. I'm bored of failed attempts that fall short of getting it right.
There were touching moments. Kelly's rendition of Woodstock, renamed after a 1985 East Village Manhattan festival Wigstock, was amazing. And when at the end he finally removed his ridiculous frock and wig, he became human and relate-able, cuter, and visibly more comfortable being on stage. He became easier to watch, and lovely to hear him close with River.
But don't take my word for it. Check him out tonight and tomorrow afternoon. Last night was a packed house and the crowd seemed to enjoy him.
Ken Tong's sweet coon-skin cap
LJ and sister Peter
I wanted to steal Paul's poncho to wear around the house
Dusty
Marshall brought his own tea
peace. 
