

The show began on the lawn in front of the museum and did so with hardly any notice. For "Prologue: Turf," the statuesque and affecting Toni Doctor Jenkins sprang about solo in the grass. People on the hill above craned their necks searching for the action; some of the crowd slowly began to trickle down for a better view. A break followed Jenkins' slow exit in reverse up the concrete ramp and folks got a little shifty. Should I move back to my spot? Should I stay here? Should I move further in? many of their faces seemed to say.
But as dancers drifted in from around corners, behind trees, and (fearlessly!) across intersections onto the lawn and then launched into the pounding, tribal pulsing of "Blades of Grass," there was no longer any question about where to be.
Harrison Keys...shit, man. Why you gotta play with my heart like this? I went to the opening for your show Pressure Luck at Get This! Gallery last Saturday, all atwitter with anticipation—I’ve much enjoyed most of what I’ve seen you do in the past, and I was hungry for more. This was going to be a juicy feast of tasty art goodness, I just knew it. I even skipped dinner. And then you go and leave me feeling empty.


Then add to the mix relative newcomer Kibbee Gallery (positioned fortuitously half-way between Beep Beep and Young Blood, behind Fellini’s on Linwood.) They opened last year with a like-minded mission, backed the creative force of adept local arts conductor Ben Goldman, who is almost the curator of the current MINT Gallery show, America. Their induction into Atlanta’s subterranean arts fold was natural and immediate. Not surprising, since these galleries mark a community of businesses that promote artistic (and hopefully fiscal) success through cooperation and support, rather than exclusion and competition.
Each gallery has a pretty money spot around one of Atlanta’s busiest thoroughfares, plus the tireless creative and business energy of their proprietors (whose encompassing knowledge of Atlanta artists results in some truly inspired, gallery-initiated artist collaborations.) The culminating atmosphere among these spaces is something special.

If you weren’t there last Saturday, never fear - the shows are ongoing and I’ve done the hard work for you. Check out these mini-reviews of the fresh offerings at Young Blood, Kibbee and Beep Beep Galleries:
In the past few weeks, I’ve had girls back-to-back-back. By “had,” of course, I mean “read” and by “girls,” I mean the three thrillers in Steig Larsson’s “Millennium Trilogy:” The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire and the newly-published finale, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest. The Swedish page-turners have become international bestsellers — posthumously, since Larsson died of a heart attack shortly after submitting the three manuscripts to his publisher. All three books share protagonists and Larsson's penchant for convoluted plots and editorializing against his pet peeves. Larsson attacks misogyny in all three books, but he's no P.C. prude, and hisĀ uninhibited heroes have so much sex, it's amazing any time or energy left over for the sleuthing. All three books have been adapted into Swedish films, and a Hollywood take on the first is in the works. But if you could only read one, which should it be?