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To me, Castleberry Arts in the Afternoon is the best of both worlds. It's an "opening" for the agoraphobic and misanthropic, where you can avoid the scene-and-be-seen. Yet you actually can view the art and, even better, command some quality one-on-one time with the artists, who are out in force this afternoon.
The freaks may come out at night, but in the afternoon you can stumble upon oddly poetic scenes. There are the sad men toting their worldly possessions in black garbage bags. A prop plane buzzes the neighborhood. Two men lead a draft horse from a vacant lot to a soup kitchen, where homeless men fawn over the animal, petting its long black fur.
If Timothy Tew is serving shrimp, you'll want to double-time it to his Thursday night preview, lest you find a paltry dish of tails on the decimated buffet.
Like one of those Russian nesting dolls, where each doll reveals a smaller one, now even the openings have openings. Tew started Thursday night previews for a smaller group of art lovers. So tonight's event feels like a cozy soiree in a private home.
The men are a sea of navy blazers. Navy blazer with button-down. Navy blazer with silk pocket square. In lieu of the navy blazer, there is a man in a navy sweater with a Marist crest.
At least two males aren't wearing navy. One is a petulant teen seated in a girly chair and clearly dying to get back to Halo 2 or Sophocles or whatever teens are into these days. The other is Frank Thomas, an exceptionally elegant barrister in black turtleneck and coordinated jacket.
Thomas frequents only Tew's openings. He's a fan, and he lives in the area. Though he admits that he's run into a former flame at one TEW opening, for the most part they're anything but cruisey events -- more the "white wine and jazz set" as Kevin Fitzgerald would say.
Buckhead Gallery Tour
The gallery owners I talk to agree that Buckhead is ascendant. Like the rest of the city, it hovers on the edge of pedestrian friendliness -- more shops, more street action. And like everyone, the dealers want to be ready when that magical change happens.
The Buckhead Gallery Tour debuting tonight is a way to catch the cresting Buckhead wave, suggests Andy Gardner of Gardner Gallery.
Maybe there really is change afoot in Buckhead. The gorgeous, highly maintained older women in fur coats and designer eyewear are as stoked about the art at Gardner Gallery as anyone I ran into at Young Blood. Artist Sarah Dixon's friends are out in force to show their support.
Dixon, in a nutshell, paints dolls. Native American Hopi dolls, porcelain baby dolls, and a scary German "Beltznickle" doll with a black mask and pointed white hat that invites immediate associations to Klansmen and Abu Gharib.
Just another elegant older woman, staying up until 3 a.m. in her Miami Circle studio. Painting dolls.
"I lose all track of time. I forget to eat. I become obsessed," she says, though the pearl necklace, slim figure and elegant black suit do not speak of unchecked manias.
In Buckhead, wine is being quaffed. Alliances forged. Outfits surveyed.
Highbrow. Lowbrow. Middlebrow galleries. And essentially it's all the same game. People like art. They are social animals. And they often genuinely like to connect with the people who make art.
My immersion experiment has convinced me.
I need to get out more.For info on Art walks mentioned in this article
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