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Brittany Menjivar
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May 3, 2024 1:52 pm
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ORIGINALRENAISSANCEPLEASUREFAIRE Santa Fe Dam Recreation Area Through May 19, 2024
My ren faire experience began with a quest of fantastic proportions. After parking on a side street to avoid traffic, I headed toward the fairgrounds, anticipating a leisurely stroll, and instead wound up facing a rocky slope more suited for a mythical realm than humble Irwindale. I could’ve hung my head and returned to my car — or, alternately, hiked up my maxi skirt and accepted the challenge. Ready for an unorthodox afternoon, I took the latter route. I wasn’t the only one — a bevy of princesses, pixies, and pirates scrambled up the hill after me.
Sovereign Futures Various locations April 4 – 7, 2024
Sovereign Futures, a multi-day program from the University of Tulsa, brought artists, academics, and others together for performances, exhibits, communal meals, chartered bus tours to Boley and Pawhuska, panel discussions and more around the stories of sovereignty that meet in Indian Territory. Curated by TU’s Allison Glenn, this felt like something new: not an academic conference, nor a lecture series, nor an art festival, but a series of generative, clear-eyed, community-focused encounters with Oklahoma’s Black and Indigenous histories and possibilities.
by
Nora Grace-Flood
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Apr 9, 2024 10:17 am
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M Solivan Photo
Art, albeit shitty (but a better photo than I could get) ...
Nora Grace-Flood Photo
... as compared to a permanent sculpture that served as artistic guidance to Monday's show.
Eclipse Viewing The Woodlands April 8, 2024
The Woodlands in West Philly looked picturesque under the half-baked sun Monday afternoon, with picnic blankets, magnolia leaves, and bicycles strewn across the historic lawns as neighbors sought out their personal vision of a rare celestial show: the solar eclipse.
They came expecting a cosmic spectacle. As an arts reviewer, I came looking for an answer to a question: Could an eclipse count as art?
by
Robin Lapid
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Mar 3, 2024 12:00 pm
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Robin Lapid Photos
People attend the Black Planter Party at Hella Bee's in Oakland.
Black Planter Party Hella Bee’s Oakland Feb. 24, 2024
I know a few people my age who are parents to human children, but I know many more who are plant parents — that trendy term for people who proudly nurture their houseplants as if they were human kids or pets.
Have you ever cooed, “Who’s a good plant? You are!” to your houseplants, happily rewarding them with the oxygen they thrive off of? Ever had to schedule a friend or neighbor to stop by to water and check in on your plants whenever you were out of town? Or been grateful for having spent some quality time in the sun with your plants, gazing at them with pride and wonder at how well they’ve grown?
Congratulations! You may be a proud plant parent.
I was happy to find a kindred, plant-loving community at the Black Planter Party near Lake Merritt. It did sort of feel like a playdate for plant parents. Before I even walked in, I knew I was in the right place. People strolled out of the venue wearing big smiles, cradling plants of all shapes and sizes in their arms. And, to ensure that all kinds of families were happy, human kids were even allowed into the event for free.
Across the Bay, with great anticipation and fanfare, Awkwafina served as grand marshal of the San Francisco Chinese New Year Parade. But in Oakland’s Chinatown that same weekend, I enjoyed a quieter, more intimate celebration of the Lunar New Year at the Lantern Festival. There were fewer crowds, fewer dancing dragons, and no fireworks — it felt like a world away from the San Francisco scene.
With less flash, I found more time to reflect on the meaning behind the holiday, and an appreciation of the immigrants and culture that this time is meant to celebrate. I felt like I had the literal and metaphorical space to honor what’s meant to be a time of “love, hope, and solidarity.”
When I first arrived at the courtyard of the Pacific Renaissance Plaza on the late Saturday afternoon (the Lantern Festival was held both Saturday and Sunday), booths were set up next to a performance area, where a young spoken word artist was performing a piece called “Refugee Daughter.” She spoke about China as a “middle country,” and how the flight from her homeland was “more turbulent than the one I took from my mom’s womb… Who is my ally, anyway?” In the audience, older Chinese locals sat and listened. It seemed like a community event that was truly for the community, where they actually outnumbered the tourists.
I’m always on the lookout for pockets of joy, specifically in the form of community pride, and particularly where people might not expect them. When I stumbled on the Black Panther Mini Museum in West Oakland, a block from the BART station, it was a beautiful brew of everything I hoped to find on this side of town. Housed in a big blue Victorian decorated with murals by the West Oakland Mural Projects, “Women of the Black Panther Party,” the museum opened on Juneteenth weekend in 2021. Not a great time for an opening, as it was still in the waning days of a global pandemic. But they didn’t seem deterred. Even the flier for their fourth annual block party promised — alongside free groceries, a jumpy house, face painting, and bubbles — “black joy!” Under dark skies and good vibes, they low-key delivered.
I was unsure the weather would cooperate for this year’s Lunar New Year’s Parade in Chinatown and Little Saigon, although the conditions — as well as the levels of hope for the neighborhood in general — seemed sunnier by the end of the event. But gray skies still lurked in the distance.
Masses of people lined the nine blocks along 9th and 10th Streets near Wilma Chan Park downtown. I needed my sunglasses while watching the opening remarks before the parade kicked off at a stage nearby. Oakland mayor Sheng Thao was absent, mourning the recent passing of her mother, so Vice Mayor Dr. Kimberly Mayfield thanked everyone for attending. The underlying message of the opening remarks from various city officials and local sponsors focused on hope, in the form of greater vigilance to reducing crime in Chinatown (police and volunteer groups were thanked for patrolling the area to improve safety), and the need to support local businesses (we were encouraged to eat at neighborhood restaurants).
I was sitting on the outdoor patio on Tuesday night, admiring the nighttime views of Lake Merritt, when a musician banging out a party beat on a snare drum came dancing down the stairs, followed by a scantily-clad dancer in a glittering suit and towering feathered headdress. She started cha-cha dancing down the main walkway, followed by another dancer in similar attire, then another. Nearby, a guy started to cheer at the spectacle, maybe a little too excitedly. “Calm down, calm down,” his friend reassured him. “Let’s pace ourselves.” Words of wisdom when it comes to celebrating Mardi Gras, whether in NOLA or in Oaktown.
The Mardi Gras festivities in New Orleans can be a little overwhelming if you’re not prepared for it — the week of parades, parties, music, crowds, food, and good times can seem endless, the drunken revelry a bit too much. When I was there ten years ago, the people spilling constantly into and out of bars, restaurants, and Bourbon Street for days already began to wear thin after a couple of days. But celebrating Fat Tuesday in a hyper-focused, seemingly spontaneous parade for one night only on 19th Street, in a Bay Area town a couple thousand miles away from the Big Easy felt like the perfect amount of encapsulated joy — part Fellini film, all good times, a slice of a celebration that keeps you wanting more.
The Bay Area had a lot to celebrate this past weekend, so one was hard-pressed to decide what should take precedence. Super Bowl parties cheering on the Niners? Lunar New Year celebrations with fireworks and lion dancing? Or a combination of the two? You couldn’t throw a rock and not find crowds getting ready for some kind of party clad in red and gold, the attire for either the big game or the lunar new year.
With the rain gone and sun finally shining bright, I headed for Jack London Square anticipating a somewhat subdued party for Chinese New Year. But I’d forgotten how much kids love dragons.
I was surprised that, even if I was only there a short while, I caught it. I caught the vibe.
The other day, I was chatting at a local bar with a friend who grew up in New York with a dream of “California cool.” “I don’t know if you know this, but that’s the vibe it gives out to everyone who doesn’t live there. It just seemed so cool.”
Funnily enough, that’s how I think of New York City and all its unique and diverse boroughs. Growing up in Northern California, I always envisioned Manhattan as home to the most cinematic idylls of my imagined East Coast youth, filled with larger-than-life personalities and childhood summers splashing around under open fire hydrants, mixing it up in the streets and on the subways, a world away from my suburban childhood. Even if it exists only in the movies, my dream childhood nostalgia centers around something that feels like a neighborhood party.
