The wine or the watercolors: Art walk should be about the art

by Cody Kitaura

This was supposed to be the time when I avoided the booze. This time was supposed to be different. Yet there I was, struggling to explain to the slurred voice on the phone that I would catch up with them a little later.

Why aren't you here yet?
We're waiting for you.
We already passed that exhibit; why are you still there?
Where are you?
We've been waiting forever.

It was no use. I sighed as I hung up my phone and headed reluctantly toward a group of friends likely intent once again on skipping over the art of Sacramento's Second Saturday Art Walk and heading straight for the booze.

This is how it ends up almost every time: A group of friends fall in line with the crowds filing through a few art galleries, then hurry to the real destination: liquor.

This week was supposed to be different. I had come alone and wandered Midtown with a video camera, hoping to capture a sampling of some of the bands and art the gathering had to offer. But the texts and phone calls were relentless, and I have a hard time making up excuses.

As I approached the group, a friend jumped at me with familiar enthusiasm. I feigned a smile and exchanged hellos with everyone.

It's not that I don't like these people – they're great friends. It's just that their agenda during the Second Saturday Art Walk usually has very little to do with art – with the exception of the art of finding a seat at some of the more popular bars in Midtown.

Once a month, Midtown Sacramento blooms with culture. Bands playing bizarre, home-made instruments fill the air with song. Artists lean canvases against trees and empty can after can of spray paint into part of a dark, twisted scene.

And yet, the most important topic of our conversation was whose apartment would hold the alcohol-laden afterparty.

At least we had seen one gallery together. I suppose the artist (a friend of ours) inviting us to drink at his apartment afterward was his way of repaying us for wandering through his gallery, glancing briefly at his photographs, and then gabbing with him about work and life after college.

I wondered how another group of friends, who are usually much more focused on finding good art than good beer, were making out. I stole away to find out. Turns out their night had been pretty similar so far.

As I scanned a crowded street full of galleries and music, a familiar face emerged from the crowd, wide-eyed and moving in slow, exaggerated movements.

His girlfriend had left in a huff after a trip back to their house to retrieve a wallet had taken a sour turn: He had downed a shot or two and smoked some marijuana. Now he was trying to think of a way to keep her from discovering he had forgotten his wallet for the second time.

As a relatively new resident of Sacramento, the art walks are still foreign and new to me. Perhaps that's why I seem to be the only one interested in the actual art. In fact, it always seems easier to walk through the galleries on 20th Street than Streets of London or the Golden Bear Pub. But aren't these places always open? Why does everyone seem to enjoy the alcohol more than the art?

The owners of the bars in Midtown probably aren't complaining, but perhaps the people who pack in once a month should think about the real reason they're roaming the streets of Sacramento. If they aren't out to truly appreciate the art, they shouldn't try to drag along people who are.