Gallery Crawl in the Cultural District, Pittsburgh / A Review

The frigid blast of the last two weeks relented just long enough to allow for a comfortable crawl, so despite the competition(?) of a Steeler send-off rally across the river, the event was well attended. Special stop signs on the sidewalks made the tour of the Cultural District galleries easy for us newbies. Updated maps added to the paper glut (I saw a woman filling a bag with the numerous flyers and brochures like she was a CES swag hoarder), and it may have been just as easy last night had you just followed the clusters of eager crawlers from one to another of twenty-two locations. A few of these sites were music specific, but most agreeably held to the presentation of art as the focus of the evening. It was a night to rub elbows with the more bohemian Pittsburghers, which is the vibe I was looking for when I asked a friend to join me for an evening of catch-up and camaraderie. The ever-changing nature of our surroundings prompted fresh conversation throughout the evening, and the mostly youthful crowd added energy to our more middle-aged pace.
The next time that I review a gallery crawl, I will have something to compare it to, so my impressions of the works are based solely upon my own amateur enthusiasm for all things art. The “Gritty 250” at ArtUp was an abbreviated collection of representational art of local steelmaking heritage. Most pleasing was the work of Cynthia Cooling - nicely textured and well within the comfort zone of less adventurous consumers. The installation pieces on the third floor of 927 Penn were quality works in a roomy space which worked to their benefit. Military ribbons and crashed planters caught our eyes and our imaginations, and the works on the opposite wall used earthy tones to capture lonely images without relying on stark sensibilities.
As we crawled, we went from spacious to cramped and back again though the reasons were unclear. It may have been a slinky effect of human physical dynamics, but there might have been some insider information that pulled crowds to certain collections. We heard vocal appreciation for the sensory disorientation of fog and light, with return visitors eager to relive the experience, but since I already inhabit a world of persistent sales pitch and 24/7 newsfeeds, I never lack for the opportunity to become disoriented.
The August Wilson Center Gallery didn’t so much grip as entertain, with compelling found-object art, past era photography, and portraiture of various media. I wanted the carved canes to be more serious, and although I am an ardent Obama fan, I don’t know what I wanted from the air-brushed Barack on a car hood.
Crimson anime characters worked, but over-worked, slides of outdoor Pittsburgh needed three projectors instead of one, small masks in a back room delighted, a Steeler-festooned creche nailed my companion’s cultural sentiments (as did Ben Franklin in a lightning-bolt t-shirt), and the Ramones on the “Marshalls Stacked” tower of speakers attached to an Ipod evoked the Pushme-Pullyou effect of consumerist desire for both the large and the small.
Fulfilling and uplifting as it was, the cumulative effect of the works called for a little more weight. I found pieces that I would share my life with (at least for a while), but the next level up is for me to invite friends from out of town with confidence, knowing that home-town bias won’t skew the assessment. I look forward to the next quarterly crawl, and send my gratitude to the organizers and artists. Oh, and thanks for the Cheez-Its.