I loved the titles she had for her faces. There was More Coffee, Please and Mustang Sally, Hippie Chick, and Bad Hair Day. The titles fit perfectly with the facial expressions.
Anne told me she thought Eider was cute. He was a tall guy with glasses. I told her I didn't care for his artwork. "Really? He tortures Barbie dolls. I love that."
One of his pieces was a large robot with Barbie dolls in its stomach. A 10-year-old girl named Kirsten Beale said, "I named that piece. The robot looked sad, so I called it Lovesick Robot." She was polite, smiling at everyone as she walked by. It looked like she was getting bored as the hours wore on, though.
I asked Eider about the difference between his work and his wife's. He said, "Her art is acceptable. Mine is rejectable."
One of his pieces is called Night of the Hanging Barbies. Other pieces included Death of a Geisha and Bouncing Bungee Barbie in Bondage.
When Anne and I were looking at one of his Barbie creations and talking about it, Eigen asked if we were analyzing everything.
The piece was called Love Hurts. It has 25 Barbies all around it, with a Ken doll being hung from wires. I hear somebody talking behind me about the song "Love Hurts." I ask them if they've heard the song "Ken." Of course, whenever you bring up an obscure song that fits the situation perfectly, nobody knows what you're talking about. So I had to try.
A singer/songwriter named Stew, who fronted an L.A. band called the Negro Problem, has a song about a Ken doll. "My name's Ken/and I like men/But the people at Mattel/A home that I call Hell/are somewhat bothered by my queer proclivities/It's safe to say that they're really pissed at me/They always stick me with Barbie/But I want them to know/I pray for G.I. Joe/But any able-bodied man would surely do/For someone to love/Since I'm not set up to screw."
I was trying my best, but the guy was looking at me like I was crazy. They would've laughed if they had known the song.
Anne and I then headed out to see Ray at Night, which takes place the second Saturday of each month at all the art galleries in North Park. They've got refreshments and are all free.
The first gallery we went into is run by a guy named David Young, who is also a firefighter. It's called Rushing Fine Arts. There was a guy playing Elton John on the piano, and I laughed when he played with one hand while answering the phone with the other. It was kind of stuffy in there, with lots of people, so we made a quick exit.
We walked down the street. I hoped a cop wouldn't give me trouble for sipping a glass of wine while walking around outside.
There was a weird beat poet doing his thing into a microphone in an alley with about six people watching him. One man said to his wife, "Why are we watching this?" She replied, "I just wanted to look at his cute dog."
We went into a gallery that had work from Ellen Dieter. Anne knows her. I told her that I thought her style looked like The Scream. She said she'd heard that before.
The artist who impressed me the most was a guy named Weston Riffle. He painted migrant workers, and he used vibrant colors. I followed Anne over as she got some punch and threw a donation into the jar. I asked if either of the guys serving the drinks was Weston. They pointed him out to me. I walked over and told him how much I liked his paintings. As we got to talking, he asked what I did. When I told him about writing for the Reader, he said, "You're the guy who does those parties? I read that. But I pictured somebody a lot younger."
I laughed and told him I thought he'd be Mexican, painting all these pictures of workers out on the fields. "Instead, you're a tall white guy in a suit!"
I was surprised to learn that Riffle had only been painting a few years. His work was the best I had seen all day.
Anne and I ended up going to watch a Johnny Cash tribute band called Cash'd Out. They were playing at 'Canes. As they started, Anne asked me, "Do you feel more cultured after seeing all that art?"
I laughed, because the band was on stage singing, "I shot a man in Reno/Just to watch him die."
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