Last night, a friend and I were searching an industrial neighborhood in San Francisco for something called the Guerilla Night Market. I felt a bit like Harry Potter, looking for train platform 9 3/4 at Kings Cross Station. But there, between the fog and the warehouses, dozens of moving vans had rolled in for the evening.
Each van had a different offering: an upside-down ball pit (a moving van loaded with helium balloons, crowded with people, creating the effect of actually being upside down in a ball pit, an uncomfortable sensation), the Dream Library (where you could deposit or check out dreams, as you wish), the Grope a Clown truck ('nuff said), the bowling van (hands down the coolest one to stand next to and listen to: rooooooolll, boom!), the Mac-n-Tude truck (set up like a Jersey Diner, with gum chewing waitresses fully in role, serving - yes - Mac-n-Cheese), and even a fine dining truck (3 course meal with wine pairings, white tablecloth and all).
There was a moving van converted into a bar, serving cheap, peaty Scotch while a gaunt woman half-heartedly swung on a dancing pole, and then there was the van with the live punky jugband-inspired music including a raunchy accordian player, a woman with prominent piercings bowing a saw, a hipster lanquidly playing a washtub bass, another girl clacking away with spoons. There were a few cushy chairs for listeners, and empty bottles and cans of PBR littered the space. I caught them on video and posted it on YouTube here.
The Night Market isn't an SF original idea. As I understand it, the first one took place in Brooklyn, but this was the SF premiere. It kind of devolved into a Burning Man hipster block party at some point, after visiting many of the trucks, or deciding the lines were too long to wait. But it was inspiring, I have to admit, as guerilla artwork often is.
This is the kind of cultural movement, though, that I admire. Good job, to everyone who made it happen.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
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