100%

Scanned image of the page. Keyboard directions: use + to zoom in, - to zoom out, arrow keys to pan inside the viewer.

Page Options

Download this Issue

Share

Something wrong?

Something wrong with this page? Report problem.

Rights / Permissions

This collection, digitized in collaboration with the Michigan Daily and the Board for Student Publications, contains materials that are protected by copyright law. Access to these materials is provided for non-profit educational and research purposes. If you use an item from this collection, it is your responsibility to consider the work's copyright status and obtain any required permission.

March 25, 2020 - Image 6

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Michigan Daily

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

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.

Back to Top

© 2025 Regents of the University of Michigan