Last night, after watching a mildly interesting episode of the Sopranos (I really hope James Gandolfini isn't getting paid $1 million an episode to lay in a hospital bed and have completely boring dreams all season), Carlos and I headed down to the Third Annual Marginalia Festival at the Smell for a brief visit. We went primarily to show some love for Jeaux, who not only had his work on display, but also turned 30 on St. Patrick's Day. His work reminds me of Yoshitomo Nara, Takashi Murakami and a host of others that probably would not recognize by name were it not for the fact that I read Giant Robot religiously. I also got to meet Christina, whose excellent work was also on display last night. She was recently featured in Juxtapoz. Gabi M., who is a regular at Hang the DJs and just about every other club and loft party in LA, also had his photography on display. Unfortunately, we didn't run into him. Also, given our schedule of not-so-social events (i.e. work crap), we had to leave before the Super Mario opera. If you happen to find yourself at the Smell anytime this month, check out their work. It will still be on display.
While I am on the subject of the Smell, I just want to add that I'm totally over this venue. I appreciate the whole concept of trying to bring shows to an underground crowd at a reasonable price, but I'm not sure if I can handle going there anymore. This was the first time I went since the Numbers show, where some dude harrassed my friend and for $10 to park in a free lot and, upon our return, hid behind the passenger door to smoke crack. (Yes, it really was crack. No, I'm not trying to sensationalize anything.) That happened last April or May. Since then, I have avoided pretty much every show that has happened there no matter how much I wanted to see it. Fortunately, last night we found a decent spot on the street, so there were no hassles in the parking department. We got really annoyed, though, because the venue was so poorly lit that it was difficult to really get a good look at the art. Carlos broke out his flashlight and even then we really had to strain our eight eyes to try and read Jeux's comic panels.