There’s never a crumb of food at the gallery openings on 14th & P and the wine—though plentiful—tastes like dead water lilies.  The quality of the exhibitions that opened this past weekend made such deficits inconsequential.  The art itself is aesthetically delectable, creatively satisfying, and intellectually nutritious.

Folded into a corner of the second floor of 1515 14th street, there’s the Curator Office’s exhibition entitled “Three Part Harmony: Definition, Delicacy and Detail in Drawing.”  The name sounds stiff.  The drawings aren’t. There’s a color pencil reinterpretation of Bosch’s erotic “Garden of Earthly Delight” hanging next to a drawing of a furry front side of a male torso along with other framed obscenities.  Though most of the pieces lack delicacy, they are defined and detailed mad crackers that are fun to look at. 

Adamson Gallery’s “Pulp Fiction” exhibits different forms of visual narration.  I came to see the two works by a reliable source of gratification—cartoonist Robert Crumb—but was more impressed by Marcel Dzama’s “The Cabin of Count Dracula.” It’s a deliciously creepy set of lithographs depicting enchantingly disturbing beasts, zombies, and children performing captivating acts of human savagery. “Pulp Fiction” isn’t meant to parallel the movie, but all of the images embody a salty neurotic dialogue appreciated by Tarantino aficionados.

Hemphill Gallery is exhibiting a tastefully bizarre collection of over 40 handmade LPs documenting the “Amazing Career of an Imaginary Soul Superstar” through the 1960’s and 70’s.   The fantasy idol and real-life DC artist, Mingering Mike, attended the opening reception incognito for privacy reasons.  According to a recent NPR report, Mike’s fantastical fame came to an abrupt end when he went AWOL after being faced with the unpleasant reality of a draft letter from the government.  No one really knew who the real man was behind the dark sunglasses and shiny stick-on mustache and beard, but the artist’s personal encounters with racism, drug addiction, and the Vietnam War are intimately related through the fictitious song titles, cardboard album covers, and liner notes.

I’m a wine glutton who sees DC art gallery openings as an opportunity to shamelessly feast on free nuts and cheese. With a full stomach, blank stare, and a stack full of empty wine cups in hand—I make no secret of why I’m there.  I lack the means, intention, and inclination to invest in (what is mostly flavorless) art.  This still applies to a couple of the other exhibitions in the building including G Fine Art’s lackluster trucker chicks and the dismally haunting work of Tina Newberry.  I still don’t have the money to buy the rest of the art on display at 14th & P which ranges anywhere from a few hundred to a couple thousand dollars, but I hope someone does.  As long as these people keep producing it, I’ll keep showing up to look at it—preferably with, but also without free food in hand.