the riverfront
Maybe we should have prefaced this item about ‘feefree days’ at Gateway Arch National Park with: “If the longest federal government shutdown in U.S. history has finally come to a close …” Because something tells us the impasse may not have been resolved even by the day this issue is distributed. But if it has been: “Whew!” That said, the first holiday this offer was available was Jan. 21, Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Well, the grounds were open, but the attractions were not. So, mark your calendar for April 20, Aug. 25, Sept. 28 and Nov. 11. On these days, visitors to Gateway Arch National Park can enjoy $3 off adult ‘Tram Ride to the Top’ tickets and $3 off adult documentary movie tickets in the brand-spanking-new, way-improved—and, yes, OMG!—museum at the bottom.
Sears is holding on by a poly-cotton thread. But, with apologies to Mark Twain, rumors of the legendary retailer’s demise have been exaggerated. Full disclosure: Mark Twain has been dead since 1910. He was born in 1835. Sears was founded in 1886. Maybe the great American humorist bought stuff mail-order from the great American retailer when it operated solely via catalog. (Remember those? And telephone books?) Sears started opening retail stores in 1925, and as consumer buying habits have shifted irrevocably over the past few decades to Amazon et al., maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. The retail stores have been coughing up blood for years. (Twain might have had something humorous to say about the company’s recent attempts to stave off its own dissolution, but from here on down, we’ll let him rest in peace.) Sears filed for bankruptcy in October, but it hasn’t flatlined yet. The guy who’s yet to say ‘die’ is Sears’ chairman and largest shareholder, Eddie Lampert. If it weren’t for his hedge fund that would stand to benefit from tax savings were the stores to operate a while longer, he might as well pull the plug. (Additionally, Kmart almost was taken off life support recently—again. In 2005, Lampert rescued it and made it a Sears subsidiary.) He may be able to keep the 400-odd remaining Sears stores open, saving tens of thousands of jobs. For the time being. To one observer, this is akin to attempting to resuscitate an opossum that has a DNR. (Or, is it just playing possum?) Anyhow, if you’re dying to shop at Sears in or around the StL, the only place left to turn is Mid Rivers Mall in St. Peters. There used to be two big, standalone stores in the city, on Kingshighway and on Grand—and a store in practically every mall that cropped up like a dandelion but has since gone to seed. Seems that big, enclosed malls are not a growth industry. As recently as 2012, Sears had 4,000 stores coast to coast. Meanwhile, as the stores have become even more timeworn, Lampert has dodged flak for their conditions.
grand center
Imagine that it’s October 1517, and the fall semester at the University of Wittenberg (in Germany, not Wittenberg U. in Springfield, Ohio) finds certain members of the faculty and student body at personal and professional crossroads. The quirky play Wittenberg, which runs through Feb. 10 at Kranzberg Arts Center, explores several of the day’s knottier existential issues. Hamlet (yes, the Danish prince from that tragedy by Willy … or Bill something) has returned from a summer studying astronomy in Poland, where he was introduced to a revolutionary scientific theory that threatens the very order of the universe, resulting in psychic trauma and a crisis of faith. He has much to learn, as he’s a senior in the class of ’18 … 500 years ago, long before there even were dumb phones. John Faustus, Hamlet’s philosophy professor, has decided at long last to make an honest woman of his paramour, Helen, a former nun who is now one of the continent’s most sought-after courtesans. Meanwhile, Faustus’ colleague, Hamlet’s priest and theology prof, is having his own crisis of conscience. Seems that Martin Luther is dealing with the spiritual and medical consequences of his long-simmering outrage at certain abusive practices of the church. (This is before Post-It notes, mind you, so he had to nail 95 theses to the castle church door. Talk about hacked off!) Tavern disputes, tennis duels (Hamlet swings a racket), 16th-century lounge hits, and the slings and arrows of outrageous wit will tickle your brain into overdrive. And, perhaps, confuse you. But, that’s OK. A talkback will be held after the Feb. 3 performance. The only stupid question is the one you don’t ask. OK, like, were these dudes all there at the same time? Remember, it’s a play. David Davalos wrote it in ’08 … 2008, that is. In this raucous work of fiction, only the names have not been changed.
creve coeur
Pssst. Hey, you—wanna buy a cheap book? Well, tomorrow is the last day of the annual book sale at the J, and do they have a deal for you! Being that pickins are a little slimmer than they were earlier in the sale, Thursday (Jan. 31) is the day you can fill a bag for $5. No, you can’t bring along one of those huge brown paper yard bags you’d fill with leaves and set out at the curb. A bag will be provided for you. It’s not the ’80s any more: Greed is not good. Although, at that price, you may feel like you’re stealing. Say you have an interest in mystery and intrigue, novels, biographies, politics, religion, sports, cookbooks, history, animals, art, science, science fiction, business, women’s issues, foreign languages, gardening, poetry, psychology, self-help, humor … maybe all the above. There still may be plenty left for you. (Nope, not that tech manual, How Restoring Glorious Soviet Forklift. Because if you saw it last year, it’s long gone. The text was in Cyrillic, anyhow. And, of course, we made that up. But you never know what else you might find.) Doors open at 10 a.m., and this year’s sale ends at 6 p.m. or whenever the last book is thumbed through. The address: The Arts & Education Building of the Jewish Community Center’s Staenberg Family Complex at 2 Millstone Campus Drive.
May we see a show of hands? Oh, wow … everybody put them both up! That looks like 200 hands; 100 people, if our arithmetic is correct. That’s how many pairs of hands watercolorist Carol Carter is creating for an upcoming major show*. Many are complete: a ‘mismatched’ pair of one orange, one green. A pair washing into indigo, reddish-purple highlights here and there, a little finger in a mauvish-crimson color, which are two ways the dictionary attempts to define magenta, the complementary color of green. Suffice it to say, these are not black-and-white pencil or pen sketches. They’re vibrant, full of emotion and movement. Black words on a white page cannot do them justice, even with a bunch of hyphens. In her studio at 3156 Shenandoah Ave. in the Tower Grove East neighborhood of south-ish St. Louis, Carter takes a couple of photos, one of our photographer’s hands, another of a writer’s right hand holding a pen poised over the notebook in his left. She may or may not transform the photos into vibrant artwork. The photos are for reference; she does not paint off what she sees in her head, but she channels what she sees to inform her paintings. There are at least two self-portraits, one titled Mona because of her inscrutable expression. The colors are soft, the features realistic. One series is of a friend in full Frida Kahlo mode, down to the famously prominent eyebrows that seem to meet in the middle. “She’s an actress and was comfortable playing the part,” Carter says of her friend. Then, there are the horses. For a major show in 2018, she painted 52 horses in 52 weeks, at least three sizes in every imaginable color combination. She did endangered animals in 2017; one of her distinctive business cards features a honeybee in watercolor. The silhouette of a galloping horse, Malibu, is a visceral response to the tragic wildfires in California last fall. He’s bright, yellow-orange on the hindquarters, a deep reddish-purple from his chest to his muzzle. Horses, llamas, alpacas and other livestock were moved to the beach to save them from the flames, an image that had great emotional impact on Carter. Born in Florida, she’s lived here 45 years and paints five days a week, 9 to 5, whether life takes turns for the better or worse. “First, I tell the paper what I know,” she says. “Then the paper teaches me what I don’t understand.” (*Carter’s ‘major’ shows are scheduled for the Friday after Black Friday each year.) Visit carol-carter.com.