Live Painting

A couple weeks ago I went to an event where there were only like four Japanese people, and thirty white people. I couldn't remember the last time before then that I'd been in a bar with that many white people. These days, it's just me and a bunch of Japanese or Koreans.

Anyway, it was part art exhibit, part live music, part live painting, part dance party. I thought the dance party portion of the evening felt a little tacked on, as if one of the artist's friends had begged him to be put on the schedule. The dance floor was the size of a large bathroom. There was not much dancing.

The live music wasn't a big hit, either. It was a Korean girl and her friend, an old Korean guy. I don't think the old man knew Japanese. Or why he was there. Or where he was. I bet at the end of the night, he decided it was time to go back to Korea. Anyway, the girl banged on a drum cinched on a cord around her shoulder while occasionally hopping on one foot and kicking out her other. I think she was dancing to the house music played later because it didn't match whatever it was she was playing. The old man backed her up for the first two (three? five?) songs, then the girl wanted to take a break so she put the old man up as lead singer. He was terrible. He sounded like a tree moaning. I instantly joined the mass of people escaping.

The live painting looked like this:


So. Yeah. Not a fun night.