I spent a night in Lawrence for the first time since the very start of 2007. On my drive up to town Saturday night, I looked out the window and noticed the sky was getting a lot bigger and the stars a bit brighter. It's not so much that I felt like I could breathe again, it's that I noticed I was breathing.
After racing across the Wakarusa, I listened to the disappointing last few minutes of the KU game on the radio before shivering on into the Olive. There was an art opening underway for an exhibit of paintings by Josh Adams entitled "Remarks."
"Rarely does an idea end up where it began," read the first line of the artist's statement. I liked that. However, I can't remember what else it said because I went right away to examine the paintings for myself.
They were fantastic. I hadn't seen anything by Josh in a few years, and the smaller size of the paintings, the intricacy, and the layered richness of the color reminded me of something I would have seen at any of my favorite art galleries in Europe and the U.S. Like Josh's drumming, his painting style was tight and meticulous, but with enough of his own touch to make it warm and memorable. Go see them if you can.
After the opening, a few of us convened for Cuba Libres at the nearby Room of Tap. Unlike the decadent film crew marooned at the Spanish villa set of Fassbinder's "Beware A Holy Whore," we didn't throw the glasses over our shoulders once they were empty. We just followed the honky-tonk trail to the next honky-tonk, and after that, another. Finally we retreated to D's Mississippi Street studio, where he entertained us with a few late-night treats from his own well-tempered clavier.
The next day after coffee I took off for Kansas City, but because the DJ on KJ was playing such great blues guitar songs and female blues singers, I just drove around East of town until I finally hit K-10. I had wanted to go back to the Olive to pick up some things and take another look at the artwork, but they're no longer open on Sundays in preparation for closing the whole place down at the end of the month.
It's a sad thing, but the people at the Olive should be proud of what they put together and the spirit of creativity and oppportunity with which they did it. For now, I'd like to bid the gallery a fond farewell. Rarely does an idea end where it begins, but at least you had the courage to live the dream.
(photo of the couch at the olive gallery upstairs by natalya.bond)
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