This Saturday night, after I parked my Civic near a strip joint along NW 36th Street, three guys came to warn me that my car would get towed. One proposed a back alley, prompting another to suggest: “Don’t send that nice lady into an alley. She’ll get scared.” They thoughtfully directed me to a street where I could park for free (!) to join the slew of other Antikulture Gallery (169 N.W. 36th Street) visitors on this deserted block.
The gallery was hosting an opening reception for, “A True Story I Once Made Up,” an exhibition by up and coming graffiti artists, Typoe and Murder, which uses mixed media and debris to stitch together made-up and real messages from a disjointed world.
Far from stodgy openings where I assume curators are sniffing out my non-name brand shoes, this one felt almost like a house party. Everyone was invited and not necessarily expected to buy. People mixed and mingled with the art. The art wasn’t the backdrop, it felt more like guests: There was the collaborative piece, “Miami Girls,” an other-worldly, painted nymph on wood (Typoe & Murder, $600), bright paint cans marked “Addicted to Fresh” (Typoe, $800), and a dreamy sequence presented in “Monster Madness” (Murder, $175 a pop). In front of the DJ stand, one androgynous hipster burst into a dance so joyful and ambitious she split her skinny white jeans. Few openings can claim such a good time. For the curious, there’s another chance: a closing reception October 13.
