February 2017 First Friday Radar

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The Shape of Things: An Interpersonal Circumplex

Friday 6:00 pm- 9:00 pm

Front / Space

217 W. 18th St.

Kansas City, MO 64108

Portland based artists Justin Seibert and Kayla Mattes collaborate in an exploration of personality based on data collection. Templates are generated in response to a 24- question quiz corresponding to an individuals personality.  These are then folded into a 3D object.

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Public Reading and Performance Featuring Annie Raab and Trey Hock

Friday 7:30 pm – 8:30 pm

Beggars Table Church & Gallery

2010 Baltimore Ave

Kansas City, MO 64108

Local writer Annie Raab will be reading an original short fiction and Trey Hock will give a performative lecture titled “From Whence I Came.”

 

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Pinch / Punch

Friday 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm

Beco Flowers 1922 Baltimore Ave.

Kansas City, MO 64108

This exhibition features a collaborative project between Casey Whittier + Mark Raymer and a part of Third Pill. The show discusses the artists’ studio process and the intersections through artists of different mediums.

 

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FF: “The Eclectic Company”

Plenum Space Gallery

504 E 18th St.

Kansas City, MO 64108

This multimedia group exhibition includes works by Neil Goss, Laura Maloney, Marie Mckenzie, Carie Musick, and Thomas Woodward.

 

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Informal Gathering #1

Sunday 8:00 pm- 10:00 pm

The Drugstore

2948 Main St.

Kansas City, MO 64111

Artists, writers, and readers of all kinds! Join us for our first Informal Gathering event sponsored by Rocket Grants! We will provide ample portions of a Vegan/Gluten Free/Kosher Friendly stew along with some wine! Bring a treat or two to share.

Our Informal Gathering events are our way to get in touch with our audience, our writers, and grow our community. We want to support those who support us with a warm meal and conversation.

 




VALEDICTION IN WHITE

The following piece is a fictional response to the performative exhibition Perfect Sunset (there’s nothing sad about it) by Kristen Cochran at Front/Space. The show centered around retirement parties and examined the idea of endings.

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The cake was exactly the cake you’d expect. It tasted like every other cake you’ve ever had. Smooth white frosting in a thin layer over chocolate cake that was once fluffy. You taste the plastic fork in equal parts with the cake. Even so, it’s gone too quickly. You hold the empty paper plate and plastic forks like props. Your hands have an occupation. Very sensible.

Though Al is hanging up his shirt for the final time, though all that’s left are seams and cuffs, he buttons the tattered cloth, squares the shoulders onto the hanger before turning away. Ready for delicate retirement. Starched blues traded for a night in a tux, traded for a year of Bermuda shorts, traded for a blanket of earth, deep.

Al greets his guests, his handshake crisp with arrogance. He walks the way a cowboy would walk, knees never quite bending, swinging each leg out the side before bringing it forward, a meandering kind of step that demands space, a right to its own pace.

Excepting the bolo tie, the son is the embodiment of aspirational neutrality. He is here to tell the family story, the story of the acquisition of cars and homes, footnoted by changing heights of children. A white balloon looms and bobs over the corner of every projected slide, every image refracted through its white body. There is mic feedback. Exuberant laughter surrounds each image and the son’s self-effacing commentary, relieved by happy exhales in the dark intermission of slide changes.

We see a baby with mouth agape, mother’s lips a crescent, her smile forever at half mast. We see presents underneath a Christmas tree, a flood spreading across tan carpet, drowning the frame, the brother a cropped sidenote. We see a wedding party arranged tidily next to a server’s tray of sliced cake. We see three women, stuffing a turkey in a golden ratio, arms at Michelangelo angles. We see the story of the women’s movement as told by the purchase of mom’s new orange Camaro. We see a family clustered on the edge of the blank concrete patio of a shit-brown house, white clothes blinding the exposure.

This is farewell, after all: farewell to sales calls, farewell to coming home late, farewell to ladder rungs, farewell to profit, farewell to value.

Farewell to meaning, farewell to life entire, farewell farewell fare well.

Let us toast the new car, the borrowed boat, the new house, the vacation.

The wife grabs her gold glittered top hat and hikes up her starched white skirt, revealing legs shaped by white hose. Her head cocked, smiling into some imagined sunset, she begins tapping. Her tasteful white shoes tap out an unexpected rhythm. Her skin shimmers. The crowd is in upheaval; a reaction equal to a walrus leaping out of the water and performing Swan Lake, to a baby sticky with placenta reciting Shakespeare’s verse, to your mother cooking an edible meatloaf.

Let us toast the new car, the next house, the bigger lawn, another vacation, another new car. Let us toast the sun glinting off the windshield, never setting.

The woman in the blue suit embroidered with glass beads bats her empty eyes: “Why thank you so much for this lovely dinner. I just wish you and Hilda all the best!” She blinks. “I wish you all the happiness.” A beat, her eyes a vertiginous void. “Bon voyage!”

There is a man so sturdy that he could wear a pink shirt in 1988. He gestures across the room as his vowels are compressed and his words sprawled out. “Al said I made too much money,” his laugh like a cough. Thick hands cast out heavy words. “You taught me that…you taught me expense reports are creative writing.”

From the corner of the room, he says twice what a pleasure it was to have made Al’s acquaintance. At night, in his California King bed, watching ceiling shadows swell and recede, he would wonder if he had a voice. Or, if, instead, every sound was swallowed by the cosmos, inconsequential, if he himself would fade away, into the quiet dark, into a place where his house his children his fears his California King bed never existed at all.

WINNING IS NOT A SOMETIME THING; IT’S AN ALL THE TIME THING. THERE IS NO ROOM FOR SECOND PLACE.

In all the years Al worked at the window blinds company, his secretary never read the Vince Lombardi speech on the pegboard.

IT IS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN AN AMERICAN ZEAL TO BE FIRST IN ANYTHING WE DO, AND TO WIN, AND TO WIN, AND TO WIN.

She recites now as tears fall on her broad yellow lapels.

I BELIEVE IN GOD AND I BELIEVE IN HUMAN DECENCY.

“That’s Al,” she says, “It sure is.” A voice encourages the secretary with the lapels to finish.

I FIRMLY BELIEVE THAT ANY MAN’S FINEST HOUR—HIS GREATEST FULFILLMENT TO ALL HE HOLDS DEAR—IS THAT MOMENT WHEN HE WAS WORKED HIS HEART OUT IN A GOOD CAUSE AND LIES EXHAUSTED ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE—VICTORIOUS.

Al’s red tie is violent against the hotel ballroom’s palette of grey and grey. He has the nonchalance of the entitled who’ve never asked questions, of one who carries blind trust in bounty. He describes his blessings: “Benito Mussolini did not get a dinner. Fidel Castro won’t get a dinner. Daniel Ortega didn’t get a dinner. But I, I have gotten a dinner I’ll not soon forget.” What color are his eyes? They look like something to be strung on a necklace.

He never did buy the boat he wanted. All he can think about now is the sea wind on his face. No windows to measure, no warranties to push, no telephone calls, no children, no earth to feel beneath his feet, or to be buried in.

A fog descends from the sky like a dog loosed from its chain; swooping through the open patio door, masking the clouds of white hair on women’s heads, embracing the white balloons as lost cousins, floating the white tablecloths, disappearing the guests into their final honeymoons.

You dreamt you had a body. And you wore a white-sequined shoulder-padded blouse. You flew over the water while the Indiana Jones theme song played. “There’s nothing sad about it,” you whispered.




August 2016 First Friday Radar!

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Docents and Faux-mosas at SWxC Street Festival 2016

Friday 6:00-9:00pm

Imagine That! Kansas City

2040 Central St

Kansas City, MO 64108

We will be hosting our first organized & publicly announced Guerrilla Docents event this FRIDAY at the Southwest X Central Street Fest. This community art festival is in suport of Imagine That!.

The Guerrilla Docents project 2016 is part of the Radical Public Programming Rocket Grant we recieved from Charlotte Street and the Spencer Museum of Art!

The gallery space will feature an exhibition of fiber and sculpture work made by Imagine That! Artists. 

That gallery is where we will take our guests on Docents + Mimosas tours. **Kid Friendly** Faux mimosas of refreshing sparkling orange juice will be served to our Art Tour participants. Come join us and help support Imagine That! and these other great organizations.

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SWxC Street Festival 2016

Friday 6:00-9:00pm

Imagine That! Kansas City

2040 Central St

Kansas City, MO 64108

Southwest X Central Street Fest is a community art and music event in support of Imagine That!. This summer’s event will mark our 4th year of putting on this street festival! We will be showing work and performances of both our artists and local individual artists, giving them equal opportunity and shared space to present. Featured in the gallery space will be an exhibition of fiber and sculpture work made by Imagine That! artists. There will also be a fashion show and live music outside. Our goal in hosting this event is to promote awareness of our program, the artists we support, and foster new and exciting connections to the arts community and population of Kansas City.

 

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Rail Sail

Friday 6:00-10:00pm

Front/Space

217 W 18th St

Kansas City, MO 64108

Rail Sail is the emergent project of Joe Riley, Audrey Snyder, and Ricki Dwyer. In the coming month of August, these collaborators will be taking up residence in Front/Space, conducting 2 weeks of research, building, and programming focused on railroads, journeying, and agricultural sites of learning and reimagination. Friday August 5th is the launch at the Information Center. Keep an eye on events surrounding the Rail Sail to come. 

 

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Nite Has 1,000 Eyes/Jinn Has 1,000 Suns Book Release

Friday 6:00-10:00pm

Night Blooms Darkroom and Book Store

529 Southwest Blvd

Kansas City, MO 64108

Book release of Nite Has 1,000 Eyes/Jinn Has 1,000 Suns by Dakota Davis and Xylene by Freed. Live music by Killus, King Ov Herrings, OFL and Sibyl Shepherd.

 

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Alien: Undercurrents

Friday 5:00-9:00pm

Windhorse Tattooing and Art Gallery

1717 Wyandotte St

Kansas City, MO 64108

A group exhibition that explores the social and aesthetic themes in Ridley Scott’s 1979 film, ALIEN. Including new and original works from Randy Bretzin, Gabrielle Costello, Elisa Cox, Matthew Crim, Jeff Croci, Caleb Harman, Mark Galloway, Danni Parelman, Ian Teeple and Whispering Danny. In space, no one can hear you scream!




October Third Weekend Radar

A bit of a quieter weekend/week, but here is whats happening so you don’t miss out!

 

Michael Manning: WILD FUSION – VOL. IV: Technoeconomicology

Friday October 17th 6-9pm

Bill Brady Gallery

1505 Genessee St.

Kansas City, MO 64102
Digital work

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displayed on monitors suspended from the ceiling in a mysterious installation and possibly more at Bill Brady tonight!

 

WORK

Sunday October 19th from 1-4pm

Front/Space

217 W 18th St.

Kansas City, MO 64108

Public Program at Front/Space about work meeting play, productivity disguised as fun. To Do list consultation service! There is limited space so make sure to email 18th.frontspace@gmail.com to reserve a spot. the
Artist Residencies: A Public Talk

Monday October 20th 7:30-8:30 pm

La Esquina

1000 W 25th St.

Kansas City MO 64108

International Resident Larisa David and Kansas City’s Art Omi Resident Judith G. Levy will be talking about what its like to participate in an artist residency.

did we miss something? Give us a heads up for next week by emailing editor@informalityblog.com