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Baltimore City Paper

Yellow Journalism

Many of the galleries and performance spaces in and around the Copycat Building took part in "Alloverstreet" last weekend. I stopped into the extraordinarily white and bright Springsteen Gallery wearing white sunglasses to complement the gallery and saw the impressive preview show for the NADA art fair in New York, featuring work by Seth Adelsberger (who will be showing at the BMA this summer), Sofia Leiby, Ben Horns, and erstwhile CP art critic Alex Ebstein, whose white yoga-mat pieces I fell in love with (two white yoga mats hanging side by side with exquisite abstract forms cut out of them). A bit later, I happened into Labbodies|PROJECTIONS, only to feel like I'd wandered into 1968-poetry about racism being read with bells and drums and massive plumes of sickly sweet incense. Above that, in Penthouse Gallery, there were three women reading poems at different ends of the room, all overlapping to great effect-though it was almost impossible to focus on what any of them actually said.

While up on Oliver Street, I noticed a little yellow box down by Area 405 and I thought, Yes, this column works, Stewart Watson got her City Paper box. But as I got closer, I realized that it was a salt box. Damn, how can there be a salt box but no City Paper box right by the Copycat, the Annex, Area 405, City Arts, and the new design school? As I pondered this, I saw people inside 405 and thought maybe there was an opening or something there too, and I walked in. Nope. It was a private planning session for another event, and I was crashing it.

Saturday, I had the opportunity to moderate a panel with some exceptional speakers at Single Carrot Theatre, including Paul Wilson, who translated The Memo-Václav Havel's play about the difficulty of translation-and was a member of the Plastic People of the Universe, the banned rock 'n' roll band that ultimately helped bring about the Velvet Revolution. Another panelist, Frank Rehak, said he was working on an animated film voiced by Paul Giamatti based on one of my favorite books, Too Loud a Solitude, by Bohumil Hrabal. All of this talk about Prague made me thirsty, so I had a couple beers and some pickled vegetables and spicy cheese (what we would call pimento cheese down South) next door in Parts & Labor with Stephen Nunns, who directed The Memo, and CP contributor Karen Houppert.

Speaking of bars, we heard a rumor that the Midtown BBQ and Brew had a permanent tribute to CP on its wall. It is now probably the closest bar to our new Calvert Street headquarters, so I stopped in, and, sure enough, there was this rather poorly executed picture of a dog pissing on the paper-now that's what I call "yellow journalism." They must have painted it in anger about their victory in 2012's "Best Ruined Bar" category, but it definitely puts them in contention for the "Best Reason to Think You Could Be a Professional Muralist," won by David's 1st and 10 last year.


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