Getting Out More

Last week, I wrote about my intention to Get Out More, which was written in the same spirit as On Consumption vs Production, in which Jeremiah Johnson argues:

Doing things is better than not doing things. If you’re unhappy, there’s a good chance it’s because you don’t do anything.

These days, there are a lot of reasons to be unhappy. This week in particular was a torrent of absolute shit news, and not just on a political level. News of death and illness rolled into my life like the tides. I cried a few times, which felt more productive than my usual tough-it-out approach. But in general, I think I was less unhappy because I did a lot of stuff this week, which I thought I’d share.

Last weekend, we went to the opening of the Amy Sherald show at SFMOMA. Sherald, for those of you who are unfamiliar, is the artist who painted Michelle Obama’s portrait as well as a really lovely portrait of Breanna Taylor. Both are included in the show, along with dozens of other striking images of Black joy (generally) told through classical portraiture. Honestly, there are almost too many portraits, and by the end, I felt like I was rushing past them to find something unique. The show is worth seeing, though, especially in concert with the Kara Walker sculptures in the SFMOMA lower entrance. I posted a picture of Walker’s Fortuna installation last week.

Both artists are working with archetypes: creating them, reimagining them. Sherald’s portraits are creating positive Black archetypes, insisting that the viewer learn new stories about African Americans, modeled after fictional references from Black literature and culture. Walker’s sculptures are darker, literally wrapped in black, standing in fields of obsidian, but her archetypes have movement, take action. They tower over the viewer, who stands in an awe akin to seeing Michelangelo’s David in person. They are large; they tell complex stories of their own.

I recommend both exhibits. And if you haven’t already seen The Visitors, I recommend that as well. I don’t know if it still requires an extra ticket or not, but it’s worth seeing at least once. It’s a video installation of the artist and other musicians playing music in a big Hudson Valley farmhouse, each musician in their own room projected around the viewer. You can pop in, or stay to watch the full hour-long concert.

Another art exhibit I saw was Dave Muller: Bay Area Music Village. If you find yourself in Mill Valley, California, for some reason, I recommend stopping by the Anthony Meier Gallery. It’s a nice show and the little record store will fill most of you with nostalgia for the old days of buying vinyl.

Back during the Oscars, I promised myself that I would start seeing movies, preferably in the theaters, before the nominations were announced so that I’d know what they were even referring to. It took my nine months, but I finally saw a new movie, Conclave. Taking place entirely within the Vatican, the cardinals meet to replace the Pope. In addition to lots of top-notch political intrigue that avoids being centered on child sexual abuse, the cinematography and photography are incredible, and there are perfect shots of cardinals vaping and looking at their cell phones, and nuns in tennis sneakers. Highly recommend. I will try to see another movie this week. Trying to decide between Gladiator II and Wicked, even though I know I am “supposed” to see Anora, which everyone who sees it loves.

I also went to see Gary Gulman at Freight and Salvage in Berkeley on Saturday night. He was very funny. The show felt like he was workshopping some new material and it went longer than expected, but we had fun. He only has a couple shows left, but I recommend all his comedy specials. The most recent one, Born on Third Base, is hilarious, and the prior show, The Depresh, is partly a documentary about his crippling depression and the measures he took to get treatment. It’s also funny though.

Dre, you are wondering, did you stay home at all this week? Yes, dear readers, I did. In fact, I also read a few books, rewatched season 1 of Silo, and started season 2. I recommend it if you like sci-fi.

Back to the books. I read Olive Kittredge by Elizabeth Strout, I Must Be Dreaming by Roz Chast, Franny & Zooey by JD Salinger, and Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine by Ann Hood. Roz Chast is always funny but unless you are giving this as a gift to someone who talks about their dreams all the time, go ahead and check it out of the library. I re-read Franny & Zooey for the tenth or hundredth time because I recommended it to a friend recently and then worried it didn’t hold up. It does.

I read Olive Kittredge because everyone seems to love it and read the Ann Hood book because she’s teaching at a workshop I’m taking and I thought I should find out what she’s about. Both of these novels are essentially coming-of-age stories about peri- and menopausal women. They were well-written and well-crafted stories. Neither of them set my heart aflame though, if you know what I mean. I finished each of them and thought, well, that’s done. It made me think that realism isn’t my genre, if that’s even a genre at all. I have a limited number of books left to read in this lifetime so I’m glad to learn a little more about myself, I guess.

While I’d like to keep up this furious pace of cultural consumption this week, it seems unlikely. I’m cooking Thanksgiving dinner, which is it’s own kind of happy/crazy making. I’m grateful to you for continuing to read what I write and I hope your holiday is full of creating beautiful moments.