During the evening portion of work this past Friday, one of my co-workers was leaving early to participate in what she called a play. She showed me the flyer online and invited to go. I was reluctant to attend ’cause I was under the impression that Mary was going to be getting out of work around 11ish and the performance was taking place at 10:30PM sharp.
Who shows up at the apartment earlier than expected? Mare! So we decide to go to the 10:30PM show.
We enjoy a meal at Sonic where by this time it’s raining cats and dogs. It had started coming down by the time we hit the road. After our delicious drive-in food, we head down to the east side of 35 where the “play” was taking place.
The venue, Historic Victory Grill off 11th, was neat. The area seemed to have gotten a makeover, since the city decided to clean it up to make more room for the indie folk that invades this mecca.
Of course the show starts fifteen minutes late. I didn’t know what we were in store for, but I knew my co-worker was going to be doing some presidential bit poetry dilly.
My co-worker’s set lasts no more than ten minutes. The entire show turns out to be some performance art assembly where no-talent hacks of Austin unite as some faux superpower to put on a show that gets videotaped to be replayed a week from when it was played. I can’t even explain what I witnessed, but it just wasn’t good. I had such a bad taste in my mouth after we left which was a few acts after my co-worker had gone on.
Maybe the bad taste was from the complimentary Lone Star beer I drank but I’m sure the show also influenced it. The performance art scene is not for me. Witnessing that train wreck explained to me why art scene elitism exists.
I am only expressing my opinion. I do grant them props for stepping up to the occasion and actually getting a production together. I just feel that more passion and rehearsal needed to go on with most of the participants involved. I felt like I was at some house party and mediocre entertainment was going on in the background.