GET OUT

Published On: March 30, 2010

Presently I'm listening to Hendrix's "Little Wing," have Facebook somewhere hidden on the screen, email, too, and I'm writing this column, all on the same machine. Who would've thought it would come to this?

Earlier tonight I went to the monthly Art Crawl, an outstanding Nashville event where all types, ages, sounds, and looks coalesce to tour the galleries on 5th and in the Arcade the first Saturday of every month. A few years ago I naively "discovered" another part of Nashville at my first Art Crawl.

Tonight I actually had some of my own art shown at Davis Art Advisory, a fascinating gallery/training ground with roots of integrity and of NYC. Sera Davis runs both a tight and loose ship: she spots art others don't, then helps the artist along. She knows her stuff.

What does this have to do with a machine playing (now) Norah Jones and checking email at the same time?

The Art Crawl is raw, unlike this machine. No plugs or wireless connections necessary. There are galleries, and a whole bunch of authentic people running around. Not faces and profiles. Some are nuts, yes, but also my sister was there, so you know some are not.

There's something organic and fun about milling among those you do and don't know. People in black and girls in boots. Old folks putting up with steam and young folks putting up with that.

I saw Edward Haggard, nee banker, now of the spiritual drums. I saw friends who came all the way to see me. Maybe. But what a compliment.

I didn't see a laptop unless it was part of a show. I saw people bumping into people like the old days, and it was refreshing. I have a feeling the crawl's an idea of Anne Brown's. I respect that.

There's even a magazine now called Nashville Arts, whose start, however in debt, seems to be popping back up with new owners. (Now they can pay up?)

Tonight I met about a dozen people I wanted to and about a half dozen I didn't. It's weird hanging around your own work while people scratch their heads, or look intensely, or just shrug and move on. Some stay. Some are mystified, some ignore.

When it was over, I left, came home. The stimulation of so much new art and new people is a lot for this introvert. I find it much easier to meet you from here than there, although I liked meeting "pretzel." Maybe I'll go more often.

There's nothing like friends, from Lucius to Phil to Ting-Li to Stacy to Jim and Glenna and more, who showed up for some line drawings and humor I've done for years. Makes me happy. Even my 17-year-old Molly and a gaggle of her friends came, and that is really cool, considering their concentration lasts 10 seconds at best. That I got ten of those seconds was an honor. My college girl Sarah was with me "in spirit." It's nice to know your kids are thinking about you.

My friend Richard bought a piece, one of my favorites and it fits him. I even bought one by an artist too young to be out at that hour, not knowing a kid painted it. The art, in many cases, is that good, even if I'd just as soon think an adult was behind it.

Across 5th Avenue are some larger galleries with great work worth seeing, too. Nashville's a fine place, and provides art and entertainment beyond the shit-kicking music and pick-ups people think of when they think of us. I was at the Nashville Symphony in February and the violinist—I forget her name—brought me to tears she was so good.

The same month I saw Ashley Cleveland and her band, featuring Kenny Greenburg, who plays guitar like it grew from his wrist, and how they aren't true national stars astounds me. Ashley may be, yet she's on the level of any top ten artist on any chart, but isn't.

Sometimes I don't get it. At all.

So Nashville, once again: get out. Get out of your den, your zip code, your Jag, and go see these things. Hear them. Witness them. Hell, I walked through Christ Church Cathedral on a weekday last week and the beauty alone is breathtaking.

Yes I'm a Titans fan and go. Yes I love seeing Vandy beat UT at anything. But there's so much more. Like The Station Inn. The same one. Right in the "hip" Gulch, area, just yesterday a train yard...

I know the parties in the front of this book are important to you guys, but when there's a night you can squeeze in between either addressing, receiving or attending the invitation-only events, go somewhere anyone can go and see the whole city, a piece at a time. We live in an amazing place. And not one of these events necessitates a computer. Not a one. It just took one to write this, (but not necessarily).