Wednesday, March 24, 2020 — 6
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
I decided to write about my love for The
Blind Pig long before I knew I would have
to say goodbye to Ann Arbor and its many
strange institutions that I love. As such,
this piece feels entirely bittersweet, tinted
with more longing than a simple ode to
my favorite concert hall in town would
normally be.
The Blind Pig is certainly a spot worthy
of nostalgia. Within this dive, eager and
passionate
college
kids
come
together
with
local
hippies
night
after night to
experience
music
ranging
from
college
bands
to
respected indie
acts to groups
that
are
now
insanely famous
(even
hosting
Nirvana
way
back
then).
Searching
pictures of the
venue
online
brings
images
of
performers
like the Flaming
Lips,
Kim
Gordon, Darren
Criss and Theo
Katzman.
Upon entry, you can feel the proud
grittiness that exists not only within
the mirrors and framed photographs on
the sides of the performance venue, but
even the popcorn machine near the bar.
The disco ball overhead always casts the
perfect amount of sparks for each concert
goer, romanticizing the dark, cramped
space. Red and blue lights saturate the
walls and the faces of those around you,
and the checkered floor beneath your feet
only sticks slightly. The bar serves as an
oasis of cooling drinks and (if you’re lucky)
provides occasional free water that allows
you a breather from the intense mess
of the dance floor. The shared sweat of
carefree dancers makes it a place certainly
not immune to infectious natures of any
kind. It’s absolutely wonderful.
The stage is quite small, allowing
artists to connect with the crowd more
intimately,
sometimes
even
thrusting
themselves forward into the crowd when
fits of passion overtake their performance.
The small size of the venue permits crowds
to fill the room with their presence. You’re
close enough to see the way the lead
singer shifts from foot to foot nervously,
to observe the shared glance between the
keyboard player and bassist, to hear the
drummers exhaled laugh as he hits that
groove just right. This place isn’t the kind
of “alternative” where you have to style
yourself to look like you’re protesting
fashion’s mainstream ways; people are
there for the music and the good time,
not
to
show
off.
It’s
hard
to
imagine
a
more informal,
welcoming
place.
At
one
show, I watched
as the drummer
jogged off stage
to the back of
the room to grab
a beer from the
bar, and then
made
it
back
onstage before
the band’s vamp
had gone on too
long.
I’ve seen the
room
packed
to capacity for
Cory Wong (the
guitarist
from
popular
funk
band Vulfpeck)
and his band.
The crowd frothed and surged, navigating
their way around the pillar in the middle
of the room. You had to fight with your
elbows in a way that made it all the more
rewarding when you finally got halfway
through the room.
I’ve seen the room with maybe 40
people in it for a college band show. People
reveled in the open space, throwing their
bodies with abandon, imitating what
might loosely be called “dance moves.”
The passion of the performers was not
diminished. It was worth my eight dollars.
I’m not sure if it’s the classic bathroom
graffiti, the vending machine that sells
cigarettes or the warm buzz of neon
lighting inside, but The Blind Pig has its
own brand of dirt-covered charm that
goes beyond your typical dive. It is filled
with history in the least pretentious way
possible, and carves out a space for all. Its
faded light-up sign provides a welcoming
torch to a true Ann Arbor institution. And
personally, I can’t wait to be back.
The Blind Pig: An ode to the
temple of sweat and music
ROSA SOFIA KAMINSI
Daily Arts Writer
AMELIA CACCHIONE/DAILY
“Self-Made: Inspired by the Life of
Madam C.J. Walker” is a historical
retelling of the life of Sarah Walker,
(Octavia
Spencer,
“Hidden
Figures”)
a washerwoman who became the first
female self-made millionaire during the
Gilded Age. The story follows Sarah as
she escapes the condescending glare of
the light-skinned, beautiful Addie Munroe
(Carmen Ejogo, “Selma”) and begins to
sell her own hair-growth product made
specifically for Black women.Working
against the patriarchy, Eurocentric beauty
standards and blunt racism, Walker single-
handedly turns her spite into a massive
enterprise.
The themes the show purports are
self-evident and wholly American. With
hard work and determination, you can
pull yourself up by the bootstraps. While
the “American Dream” comprises the
backbone
of
the
show,
the
narrative’s
inclusion
of
other tangential
themes
reveal
barriers to the
achievement
of
the
“American
Dream”
that
often
go
unmentioned.
In
fact,
the
show
manages
to efficiently do
the
impossible
—
balance
colorism, racism
and feminism in
an efficient and
nuanced way.
In “Self-Made,” no “-ism” supersedes
another. Race doesn’t supersede the
importance of gender, nor does gender
supersede color. Instead, the characters’
alliances shift to push back against the
oppressive force of the moment. For
example, while Addie Munroe and Sarah
Walker are sworn rivals due to their
skin color differences, Addie signals
her support for Walker as she fights for
a chance to speak at a male-dominated
convention. Despite their conflict, both
recognize the need for female solidarity.
While the show focuses on the fascinating
intersections of Walker’s gender and race
struggle, it fails to explore another equally
important aspect of Walker’s character:
class.
We live in a peculiar time. On one
hand, the myth of the American Dream
is crumbling in front of our eyes. On the
other hand, society has become more
receptive to the idea that positions of
power should be occupied by people who
aren’t white males. Should we dismantle
power structures or simply reoccupy
them with different faces? “Self-Made”
obviously supports the latter. Central
aspects to Walker’s life, such as her
position as a working class washerwoman
are only mentioned as a tool to juxtapose
her past with her present.
Perhaps the most egregious example of
this dissonance is one of the final scenes
of the show. In the final chapter of “Self-
Made,” Walker’s employees protest the
deal she made in the industry that would
jeopardize their jobs. One might expect
the show to focus on this dilemma. Perhaps
Walker would give a passionate speech
where she would recount her working-
class past, and thus her sympathy towards
her
workers.
Perhaps
(more
realistically)
she would fire
her
workers,
and
the
show
would
focus
on
aspects
of
her
personality
that were less
glamorous.
Instead the show
does
neither.
Walker
simply
says she won’t
go through with
the deal, despite
the
fact
that
every aspect of
her
character
shows she will
break down every barrier to her success.
This scene speaks for a particular purpose
of the show. Despite the title, “Self-Made”
isn’t truly about the life of the human
being Sarah Walker. It’s about the idea
of Madam CJ Walker, a larger-than-life
figure, living proof that all barriers can,
and should, be shattered.
Ultimately,
“Self-Made”
is
a
very
empowering show. The central character’s
story is remarkable and worth exploring.
Like other “empowering” media, it feels
good to watch. It feels good to watch
someone overcome overwhelming odds. It
feels good to beat back racism, sexism and
colorism. It feels good to be empowered,
just don’t think about what you can do
with that power.
Don’t think on it too much,
and you’ll enjoy ‘Self-Made’
JOSHUA THOMAS
Daily Arts Writer
NETFLIX
COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK
TV REVIEW
TV REVIEW
Self-Made
Netflix
Season One
Streaming Now
I’m not sure if it’s the
classic bathroom graffiti,
the vending machine
that sells cigarettes or
the warm buzz of neon
lighting inside, but The
Blind Pig has its own
brand of dirt-covered
charm that goes beyond
your typical dive.