And who could miss E.V. Day’s commanding pink panty sculpture? Suspended from the gallery’s ceiling, the resin-covered lingerie’s sharply sexualized form cradled a delicate blown glass egg, contrasting a sense of seduction with a reminder of the maternal.
Each piece was strong; there was not one work that didn’t make a stand. But after taking it all in, I was a touch overwhelmed. The power from one work detracted from that of the others to the point where the dialogue between the pieces was lost within a visual and conceptual power struggle. And the cartoonish photo of a horned Vivienne Westwood plastered in the front of the room was distracting, to say the least.
But if there’s one thing we can all agree on, everybody enjoyed the party. After busting a move to the gothic melodies of Atarah Valentine, a zealous Murry Hill, (a.k.a. Mr. Showbiz) can be quoted as saying, “The Show? I LOVED it! I haven’t seen it, but I LOVED it!” His accomplice, burlesque bombshell Angie Pontoni smiled in agreement. (Note: Murry later did see the show and still “LOVED IT!”)
The bar was open. The infamous Andrews pleased all with their DJ set. And after an evening of aggressive dancing, tantalizing conversation and a who knows how many bottles of wine, each member of the art-tastic crowd left with a smile on his face. So did Hamish miss out? We’d have to say so.