D, Shrimp, Cheese, Neel, Davide

Friday night was D’s birthday, and since he wasn’t in the mood to compete with Reese’s attention demands, we celebrated last night. He invited several charming friends of his and their dogs over to a dinner that I made to his precise specifications, “Spaghetti–NOT fettucine, NOT penne–spaghetti, and a Caesar salad, with SHRIMP–BAY shrimp,” etc, etc… He asked to watch Meet Me in Saint Louis after dinner, which gave the atmosphere an even more festive pall. What a strange film. It’s almost like a vaudeville show, with intensely entertaining musical interludes woven into and around several potentially volatile plotlines that fizzle out before anybody gets too upset–except Margaret O’Brien, that is, who flips out at the prospect of moving to New York after big sis Judy serenades her with “Have yourself a mery little Christmas,” and destroys the snow people on the lawn out front with a bat. And the color and costumes are fabulous. Dean told me it was the best birthday he’s ever had. It was the dogs. He’s a real dog person. He’s so hairy that I think they look at him as one of their own. I was very happy to have made him happy. He can be a tough cookie to please.

BC and I did make it to Neel Eargood’s show on Polk yesterday (731 Polk, Tues-Sat 10-6, through 3/31). He’s created gridded works of stained glass and metal that float in space as rolled or delicately undulating sheets. He combines colors, or just patterns in clear glass, so that lights falls on and through the works in very beautiful ways. His titles are often hilarious, if not self-referential, like “Gimme Some of That Hot Cubic Tube.” Cara Barnard and Duane, the artists showing with him, create abstract graphic forms on paper and canvas that render in two dimensions a flatness and organic weirdness that extend Neel’s play with light and form into the Freudian. Get thee down to Polk Street, LJers and support our very own Neel.

Later, I had a lovely complaining session with Davide over coffee at that place next to Superstar on Castro, which used to be a really nice cafe with comfy seats and good panini, but is now a place with okay panini and seats that are not only uncomfortable, but are like 4 feet off the ground, inducing vertigo and dangly feet. I love talking with Davide, and am grateful for his emotional breadth.

I didn’t make it to any other exhibitions this week, but will make it to first Thursday openings this week. Come along.

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