RFCL Art Exhibit at Gallery 159


	RFCL Art Exhibit at Gallery 159 Group Show in Gallery 159 in Vallejo October 3-24, 2008 Visit Gallery 159
The wide streets of downtown Vallejo could be the scene of a nostalgic film from the 50’s. Each 2 story building seems to be made of a slightly different shade of brick and there are small tiled embellishments around the windows and doorways of each one. In the midst of an artist takeover, the downtown is speckled with art galleries, performance spaces and a large theater that boasts an old fashioned marquee. There were hardly any street lights and we walked along the sidewalk, feeling the cool wind of an approaching fall in the spilling glow of a large, vacant diner, where two TVs captivated the attention of the six men at the bar. Next to it, on the corner, was an art studio.

		Inside its unlit space, which I saw looking through the glass door, were gallons of paint and dirty rags, it looked like the inside of an unkempt garage; but the corner window display was well lit and held the beauty of bubbling raw creation. Displayed was a series of painted doors. Over six feet tall and leaning against a long wall that blocked the mess of the inner rooms, the doors were missing their handles and I pointed out the open holes to Angelina. They were covered in spilled paint and the colors moved in their dripping shapes and bled into each other, forming unclassifiable movement. Angelina, my partner for the evening, wondered how someone had made such textures. I demonstrated how the artist probably threw their paint, with the swinging thrust of a cracking whip. She seemed awed by this, about the entire possibility of a new technique.



We rounded the corner and entered Gallery 159. It was the only building on the street that was lit. The entire front wall, the one that faces the street, is made out of thick glass, and even before we entered, we could see the art, food and a handful of people that were inside. We walked through the open glass door, which divided the glass wall like a river that runs in two directions. There were a handful of people inside, they were all over 50 years old, with the exception of Lilea, the gallery owner and her boyfriend, Jed, who, to me, seemed like extremely motivated 23 year olds who opened the gallery one month ago.



		The new show was entitled, Everyday Objects, and we were here to have a party for the opening reception.There was more art on the walls than were people to look at it. A green eggbeater, the old fashioned kind that requires muscle movement, stood still within its pretty wood frame.







		The room itself, housing Gallery 159, looked like an everyday object, a leftover storefront from the 50s that Lilea had perceived closely and, through clear attentive work, had realized its potential.



The space itself is basically a square, but 3 ft walls protrude perpendicularly from the main walls, which creates a nice division of space. There are two smaller back rooms, perhaps once closets, that now were open and they too helped divide the squareness. I pointed out the photo of a naked breast, with a fork about to pierce it through the nipple, to Angelina. A couple of young missionary boys had wandered in off the street and happened to be in the same corner of the gallery as us. I wondered if they noticed me pointing out a breast to a nine-year old and if I was the reason they left so quickly.



		In the car ride to Vallejo, Angelina told me she had mainly been motivated to come for the snacks, and when we got there, she was excited by the long bar that was built into the wall and ran parallel to the floor, which was covered in a generous assortment of colorful fruit and vegetable platters. After being introduced to Lilea, Angelina walked straight to the food and politely used a toothpick to pick up pieces of watermelon. I offered her a beer, it was her ninth birthday, but she preferred the soda in the ice chest.



After her snacking, she quickly got to work on the only straight-backed chair. She pulled out her blank paper and colored pencils and spent the next couple of hours drawing blue whales and a rendition of Daisy, the dog owned by the man who photographed the green egg beater. She let her creativity flow out…surrounded by refrigerators and ketchup bottles and adults sipping on wine and munching crackers.



		Daisy walked around the gallery space like a dazed aging man, not exactly happy to be there, but having no where else better to be. I conversed with her owner briefly. We were talking about politics and the upcoming elections. In a matter of minutes, he got very riled up, angry about Palin and the lies of the Republicans. I tried to interject a couple of thoughts, but he was no longer looking at me and didn’t seem to remember we had been talking. He looked into the blackness of the night, through the glass window panes, and continued to rant about Palin. Realizing I was not really needed, I slowly backed away. He kept mumbling and didn’t notice.



I took pictures of the artists. They seemed to know each other. I took photos of Jed, who sat quietly on a bench most of the night, of service if Lilea needed anything. He told me which one of our three pieces he liked the best- he liked the sci-fi-esqe image of an old faucet we had captured inside a Daly City home. He said that from a couple feet away, he thought it was such an obvious shape, but that as he looked at it closely and gave it more of his attention, he saw the detail and almost-hidden textures meant for the attentive to find. I smiled and nodded, enjoying his discovery.



		All the artwork was beautiful, but more than that, they all looked so good together. It really seemed like a living, breathing collection. A gathering of doorknobs, refrigerators, toilet bowls and other lone, simple relics. There was a photo of a woman holding a stone cross. She was standing behind colorful fabric, and just her hand, holding the cross, was free of any visual obstruction. The colors of this piece were extremely life-like. I literally felt like I could touch this woman, like I could touch the red painted nails of her hand or move aside the sheer blue fabric to get a closer look at her face.



The small crowd left one by one, and Angelina and I were the last to say goodbye. I took a picture of Lilea and Jed together, and in this moment, as Jed touched Lilea’s shoulder, I could see him come alive by their contact. His eyes softened and he held her close.



On the way to the car, Angelina and I stopped again to look at the painted doors on the corner. A couple of black women in their 50s were approaching us. As they were about to pass, the larger of the two said "oh my god, look at you!," looking at Angelina with an awed expression. Angelina looked up at her, slightly alarmed but mostly curious. "You look so stylish, like you just walked out of VOGUE." Angelina, smiled, realizing they liked her outfit. She was wearing a knee length leopard print coat, which was fuzzy and matched the retro-neighborhood. On her head and neck, was a matching pair of red and green knit hat and scarf. The woman said, "it’s my birthday today… you just made my day." I told the woman it was Angelina’s birthday too. "No way!" she said, "you’re a Libra too!" Angelina smiled shyly, perhaps not knowing what a Libra was. The big woman looked at her, with such a proud, kind, smile. "I don’t know you, but can I have a hug?" she asked Angelina and opened her arms slightly. Angelina nodded gently and stepped towards the woman, raising her arms and pressing her face into the woman’s enormous breasts. The woman said, "I hope you have many, many more birthdays", and then she leaned closer to me and whispered loudly, "sexy birthdays!" I smiled and she told Angelina she would get it when she was older. The skinnier woman said, "Go on with yourself!….with your baaad self!" The women laughed and started to walk away. We waved goodbye. Angelina walked towards the car with me, electrified and smiling. We drove back into the city, where it had begun to rain.