As digital photography gets cheaper and easier to use, Kodak moment by Kodak moment, we fear film will become obsolete. And for most people that's probably true. But for the few, the proud, those who practiced prying open film canisters and rolling film around developing reels in the dark, those whose favorite shirts bear developer and fixer splash stains across the tummy, film will never die, even if we have to hold protests with SLRs, Holgas, Brownies and Dianas in hand. Photographs Do Not Bend Gallery knows a picture is worth a thousand words, and for almost a decade owners Burt and Missy Finger have been feeding them to us, exhibit by exhibit, black and white, color, daguerreotype, digitally altered, historic, up-and-coming, teacher, student. And they've never disappointed. We can't name a gallery more consistent in its quality of shows. Plus we know they'll be on our side when the revolution comes.
Based on our childhood memories of the cartoon series, we thought Casper The Friendly Ghost was about life after death, not the messy business of dying. This summer's four-city tour of Casper The Musical crawled into Dallas with vital signs barely registering and proceeded to meet a very long, noisy, smelly demise on the stage of the Fair Park Music Hall. Writers David Bell and Stephen Cole did a major overhaul from the show's disastrous London premiere, adding a scenery-chewing role that Broadway legend Chita Rivera stepped into between legit gigs. The subplot about reality-based TV programming and the World Wide Web--Casper is in danger of becoming a media mogul's pawn--was as inexplicably tacky as the flat, foldable sets.
When it comes to permanently scarring our body with needles and ink, we require three things: cleanliness, comfort and chemistry. We need to know the equipment is sanitary. We need people who ease our anxiety. And we need to know that the artist will work with us to make us happy. And that's why we keep going back to Pair O' Dice (and so do our friends). Richard Stell's been running this Deep Ellum institution for 11 years, enlisting the help of partner/artist Deb Brody and a succession of "kids" who hone their craft under his steady and heavy hand. Your mama may have said never trust a man with tattoos, but she was wrong.
Readers' Pick
Tigger's Tattoos
2602 Main St.
214-655-2639
We live in a world of modern convenience where cars have TVs and DVD players in them and even a lowly cigarette lighter can occasionally be outfitted to double as a bottle opener. The same concept of convenience applies to the free Sunday-afternoon no-limit Texas hold 'em tourneys at The Lodge, which, if you didn't know, is one of the area's finer gentlemen's clubs. (Or strip bar. Whatever. We're cool either way.) Where else can you gamble, drink, smoke and ogle nekkid ladies at the same time? Oh, yeah. Vegas. But that's, like, far away and stuff. Besides, we're fairly sure you can't do all of that at the same time, even there. If you're feeling guilty about this, just hit church in the morning.
When you're in a band with, like, 24 other people, you're not going to get rich anytime soon. Probably not ever. You can, however, be famous--sort of--if that band happens to be The Polyphonic Spree. You'll tour with David Bowie, travel around the world for free, see your face in magazines and on TV, hear your voice or flute or French horn or whatever on the radio, maybe even be detained by the FBI from time to time. And as soon as you take off your choir robe, not a single person will know who you are. It's the best of both worlds, getting all the cool stuff with none of the hassle. Only downside: Anyone under the age of 40 who owns a white choir robe and can sway in a rhythmic fashion can pretend to be you. But that's pretty cool, too, right?