Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

Last Saturday, my friend and I headed downtown (a bit late) to check out Night Vision: MOCA After Dark. We made a spur of the moment decision to go, after wandering around aimlessly a bit, eating Pinkberry (the reason being only one of us could get in to see What We Do Is Secret, and that just wouldn't be fair). So we found ourselves driving around and around and around looking for parking, ultimately arriving in time only to catch the Part Time Punks djs at 10pm.

My impulse-buying, fine-art-minored, and much-higher-paid friend became a member, so I got in for free as her +1, complete with lovely silver "MOCA member" sticker. Downstairs near the entrance, the dj was spinning for a group of folks lounging around and chatting. It was clear that about half had already dissipated, so we went inside to check out Poetics of the Handmade. And we were not disappointed.

"Painstakingly handcrafted" is really an understatement for the works created by these Latin American artists; my friend and I found ourselves mumbling "OCD" and "insane" a whole lot more than is probably polite, but we meant it as praise. Highlights were Magdalena Atria's giant geometric ball of Q-tips, alarmingly titled Sonriendo desesperadamente (Smiling desperately I), and Marco Maggi's detailed cityscapes scratched into aluminum foil. But the most spectacular, and filling an entire room, was Maximo Gonzalez's A dónde se han ido las flores? (Where Have All The Flowers Gone).