There was an element “step right up!” carniness at the Barrelhouse launch party last friday at Hillyer Art Space. Everywhere you lookied, crowds were semi-circling around one spectacle or another. Just outside the gallery’s entrance, two women — one: a DC Rollergirl, the other: a civilian who shelled out five bucks for it — faced off at an arm wrestling table as people crowded around them, taking pictures and buggin’ like those nutty fight watchers you see in every Van Damme movie ever made. About 7 feet to the northwest, $4 or so got you a copy of the derby themed sixth issue of Barrelhouse.

Inside, another DC Rollergirl was, I assume, giving a reading that may have veered toward vulgar once or twice along its way. I’m assuming because I missed the whole thing, but came in time to hear the emcee immediately afterwards say something about needing to do a better job pre-screening readings next time.

The food, thick cross sections of some wraps made with a tangy mustardy sauce and poultry meat of a sort, was good and praise jeebs there was plenty of it. I believe Marvin catered. Adrian Loving did his best to just spin records and not be a murderer despite endless requests to “play something better”, which is, you know, only a little nebulous and never gets old.

I liked me some grids. Like the shabby one that emerges from the arrangement of worn shoe soles that’s one of Mandy Burrow’s installations. But I thought about it too much and now the awesome grid evokes this fucked up even more awesome feeling of being at a morgue, which is probably closer to Burrow’s point. Across the room, there were these insanely detailed drawings by artist Ben Tolman, who actually lives in my building.

Sorry. I am just not going to critique or talk shit about some mildly-gothy, possibly magically-inclined fellow who lives that close to me. More photos here.

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