#2: Appreciating Art

The hipster heavens shone upon us. Shortly after deciding to embark on this adventure, Maomix received an email inviting her (us) to attend BAGAVABOND’s Dream exhibit. The flyer itself was enough for us to feel welcome into the world of hipsterdom: sponsored by PBR, bright colors, local artists. Did we even need to attend to feel like we belonged? Yes, well kind of, but I’ll get to ‘feeling like I belonged’ a little later.

So we arrive around 10 p.m. to this all-ages, all-welcome, boho-chic event. No line, paid our donation at the door and walk in. To the right, a photo-op. A chance to pose in a variety of ironic ways, with glasses and Jarritos (the current hipsters’ willingness to sell out and participate in blatant product promotion is a little disturbing, and would surely disappoint those anti-capitalism originators of the movement, but I digress). To the left, free silk-screened shirts, equipped with your choice of four designs (yes, I got a sun-glassed baby sitting on a centaur, white against a black shirt).

Walking a little further we have the PBR, wine, and more of that damn obnoxiously colored Jarritos bar. I start with a beer, because I figure, when in Rome, right? Maomix is smarter, she knows the dangers of filling up on PBR too early, and gets the white wine (plus she’s classy), and then we embark on our art-journey. We walk to the back, and come across the sketches and paintings first. It took us a little while to realize the appropriate hipster-way to view these masterpieces (a lot of which, as my counterpart points out, include a penis-depiction of some sort). But once we realize we have to stand, point, discuss, we get it down. I liked the S.S. Dreamboat, which was 3D, so I had to resist my urge to touch, lest the artist be lurking around somewhere, just waiting to scold me on my faux-pas ways. The Dreamboat, which was comprised of good looking, shirtless-men cutouts, was (un)shockingly void of any well-known man-candy. All obscure male models I am sure I could name if I wasn’t just a hipster-in-training. But alas, still nice to look at.

After standing amongst the art for a while, observing that hipster-fashion is no longer a strict, plaid only affair, but rather an as-long-as-you-don’t-give-an-eff-what-other-people-think wardrobe choice, we reenter the main arena to listen to some music. Now on my third PBR of the night, and feeling rather full, I look around. We still haven’t talked to anyone on the ‘inside’ (not even an “oh excuse me, I’m sorry” from the unskilled ping pong players who constantly hit the balls amongst our feet). I know this isn’t the right setting to meet new friends, too much stimuli going on in every corner, you just want to discuss everything with your intimate group, it’s not the place to risk saying something wrong to someone you don’t know (not that hipsters ever say the wrong things, because even their most insulting remarks are meant to be ironic, not offensive). But then it comes to me. I need a co-worker. Or a friend’s co-worker. Who IS one of these artists/band members/artist’s BFF. When you meet in the work setting, there is no escape, I can latch on, and let them take me into all my hipster-fantasies. But we’ll work on that endeavor later. Cause here, Maomix DOES know someone, and he IS in one of the bands. But he’s outside, and absent leaving or smoking (which neither of us do), we have no real reason to venture outside just to say hi, that’s not an ironic thing to do. But as I get more and more full (read: unpleasant to be around), we decide to call it a night. So we do go outside, and Maomix makes contact. He’s extremely nice (Maomix is not friends with mean people after all), but since we’re on our way out, there’s not much community infiltration to be had. And we come to the end of our scene, without becoming scenesters (but equipped with fabulous parting gifts of shirts). We went, we saw, we drank, we learned, and we’ll be back, this transformation doesn’t happen over night.

Next up on the horizon: my short encounter with the Atlanta-hipster scene, and a discussion of acceptable hipster-jobs....Until then, keep your phallic art on the wall, we'll be back soon.