Before the show, we had a look at their exhibit [the show was held in a Seattle gallery]. I got to play with a Booper for the first time in my life - and then the Weatherman himself snuck up behind me and asked me if I thought it was stupid. I just smiled and said "Thank you for this," pointing at the Booper.
Dan and I agreed that we wanted to pick up a Giclée print [hello
chrisglass!] to hang at home... somewhere. So, after the show, I figured it out with Mark and another guy whose name escapes me at the moment: I'll send 'em the check and the gallery will let me have the print later on in the week after they take down the show.On some level the most impressive thing about the evening was simply that we sat in a room with a little over a hundred people and watched three people work very, very hard for three hours to perform a rather complicated piece; it's been ages since I've watched artists or musicians do their thing in such a direct, honest manner. Ironically enough, the last time was Kraftwerk in San Francisco maybe eight years ago: towards the end of their show at the Warfield, the pocket calculators malfunctioned badly - and Ralf and Florian broke character, smiled, and for an instant the audience felt some kind of a personal connection with the artists themselves.
I love it when that happens.
