Now, while Shecky’s Girls Night Out is not technically exclusive of men, it’s fair to say that there don’t tend to be many wandering around the event, amongst the “Girls”, cocktails in hand, cooing over the latest in jewelry and fashion. How appropriate, then, that in Washington DC, the event was held at the DAR Constitution Hall.

Why, one might ask, is that so appropriate? The Constitution Hall, across from the ellipse of the White House, is owned by the DAR, or Daughters of the American Revolution. Which is, on the other hand, exclusive of men (as well as anyone under 18 and any woman who cannot prove “lineal descent from a patriot of the American Revolution”). This, combined with an event dedicated to “girl power”, seems like the ultimate ploy to keep men away.

The Constitution Hall, a registered National Historic Landmark, was originally built in 1929 to house the annual DAR convention (which I imagine as something similar to Girls Night Out, but minus the berry mojitos and makeup samples). The DAR dedicated the building as a memorial to the Constitution (and, not surprisingly, it is the only structure paying this tribute), which, like most memorials, makes its name pretty self-explanatory. Since then, it has become primarily a concert venue, the largest one in DC in fact. Everyone from Frank Sinatra to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to Aeorsmith has played on its stage (Alanis Morisette and Ben Folds come in next week). It also plays host to dance and opera companies, speakers, awards shows and conferences or conventions, like Girls Night Out.

I’m not sure what our country’s forefathers would think of fashion conventions held in historical halls, and musicians like Stephen Tyler and Bob Dylan don’t seem quite in line with the standards of the Constitution. Then again, if these aren’t prime examples of people in the pursuit of happiness, I don’t know what is.

DC is like the city of museums. Forget the politics (sometimes I wish I could…), the sheer volume of exhibits within this phantom state is miraculous.

There is one in particular that I am intrigued by and am hoping I’ll find a spare hour or two while I’m in town for Shecky’s Girls Night Out to go see it. It’s at the Corcoran Gallery of Art (which, founded in 1869, is Washington’s oldest gallery and very first non-federal museum).

The exhibit is by Spanish artist Elena del Rivero and has two parts, both titled “[Sw:t] Home” (translated from phonetics means Sweet Home), but the second, with the addendum“Chant” is what I’m most interested in. It is essentially an inspired collection of papers, business cards, receipts and the like that fluttered out of the World Trade Center when the towers fell in 2001, scattering around the artist’s studio near the site. Working with an archivist, del Rivero sewed the pieces together on five pieces of muslin, each measuring 23 feet in length. Five years later, the pieces are hanging in the Gallery in DC on display until November.

My question is: why is this exhibit in DC and not in NYC? Wouldn’t it have been most relevant to mount it last week in the city, and on the anniversary, of the event that inspired it?

In a special review in the Washington Post, Jessica Dawson wrote,

…the artist walks a line here…she enters a gray area when revealing the information of others. On the one hand, all the names that turn up in “Chant” exist almost entirely without context and promote few risks for their bearers. Those names also lend an authenticity to the proceedings — real people, real tragedy. Yet there’s voyeurism here, too. Would the relatives of 9/11 victims care to have our eyes scouring the notes of their dead?… Del Rivera reminds us that on that day in 2001, private lives became public facts.

So maybe that’s why the exhibit is in DC rather than New York, where it would be a little too close to home, too close for comfort. And yet, I agree with Dawson when she reasons:
“If the collapse of those buildings can be likened to an open wound, then del Rivero’s needlework is an attempt to suture it. It’s an impossible task but not unlike the work we all do when things go horribly wrong.”

One of the things that is so fascinating and rewarding about art is that it is subjective, and the same goes with fashion. There are designers who are adored by some people and despised by others; some people may find a movie or a play enlightening while others find it offensive. It’s just a great big world of controversy, but I think it is controversy that helps to distinguish people and makes us all unique! I love how controversy helps us connect with one another. It sparks dialogue and fires up the cells in our brains. Controversy opens the door to understanding and accepting one other’s differences.

I saw Burn After Reading, the new film from the outstanding Coen brothers. While I agree with some of the points made in the Times review (true, it’s no Fargo or No Country…), it is still a satisfyingly distinct Coen brothers film. A huge part of their genius lies in their simplicity, yet super attention to detail. For example, I’ve read that the dialogue is scripted so precisely that even the “um”s or “like”s are meant to be honored and spoken as written. Nothing is extraneous or taken for granted. The opening scene impressed me, where there is as much content in the pauses as in the looks shared between the actors as there is in the minimal dialogue. Genius, I tell you!

I was thinking, I wonder what jewelry would look like if the Coens designed it? Of course, they would surely find some way to make it pretty perverse or morbid, but I bet it would have beautiful clean lines and simple flourishes, meant to highlight rather than distract. It’s probably safe to say this is the only artistic credo I share with Joel and Ethan, but it’s not a bad trait to have