Julie C. May at pb&j (Kirkwood-ATL)

Friday March 20th was the opening for photog Julie C. May at pb&j Gallery in the Kirkwood district in Atlanta, GA. They have been in business for two years. And the charming little village as a whole is doing quite well and now has most of your major urban needs condensed for you into a couple of blocks – so Atlanta, y’all. Please Go!!!

Hailing from the Beverlywood area of LA for the past ten years, Julie C. May has meanwhile toured the world in pursuit of great shots. The front room at this quaint, super-cute gallery is full of her selected finds. It runs through May 3rd.

Featured locations: Venice, Italy…Russia…Berlin…Poland…Puerto Rico…St.Kitts…CHI-Town…the girl really gets around. Her photography, shot in black and white with a 1976 Nikon and in shiny-today-digital-color, has so much life. As she says: “Every wrinkle tells a story.” These photos capture people “not reacting, living.”

Not much for self-promotion, the striking and radiant Julie C. May instead chooses to focus on her true passion – her business.  She founded the “Unscene Tour” to give a sense of home and a big boost to emerging photogs across the nation.  Check it: http://www.unscenetour.com

Back to the show, my companions were my adorable girlfriend, Jami Buck and my uber-hip Bromance from Cafe Intermezzo (via Cali), Duane. I wore lime green seersucker and a white belt and spring was underway. Spritzers are nice and so are almonds and art. Check it: http://www.facebook.com/hanvance

May got into photography originally “to get more boys to flirt with me.” Provocatively sexy statement for a married woman, I thought. Duane and I were the best heterosexual options on this night, as “the boys” were out in full force to support the gallery and kick back some free wine. They dress quite well, too. Check it: http://www.facebook.com/bobburkhart    (the b of pb&j)

From elderly Venetians that are clearly Old Souls to a Navyman resplendent in that one ray of light amongst the Chicago skyscrapers, personalities of people and the commonality of life experiences throughout diverse areas of the world are conveyed in a show perhaps more about face than space.

And then my baby paid half for me to get a small piece of Jack Simmonetta’s stuff. He is the j of pb&j. Just thinking to myself I was: the thousands of colors of blue are a nice color, and it is getting late.

So we said bye and headed to Poncey-Highlands for a post-pre-party at my babe’s townhouse, with too much of that Absolut Mango vodka and yet another adorable Jaimie, and then the four of us were up the street to the basement of the Highland Inn for the single best dance party in town. We listened to the Detriot to ATL transplanted rapper Stewart House along the way. And then we finally hit the dancefloor.

Keep URBAN GRINDing

I performed spoken word poetry at Urban Grind (coffeehouse) on Marietta Street on a recent Thursday. On the Westside of Atlanta, GA (not in Marietta), Urban Grind is located in the M Street Lofts and is my favorite spot to read in The ATL, bar none. The event is free each Thursday night with a purchase. It was a great read for me and a bunch of my friends on the scene were, you know, on the scene.

FIT was a hit with “Three to Six Minutes;” Imani from Grambling University read a lovely piece about her ass; Guilty Penmanship is a trio fronted by the vivacious Spenecia – they were high energy and their timing was perfect; Arcane Thoughts has switched seats and is now DJ Arcane; Cambridge is a real word-writer; the host this week was Sphinx and his weed humor and closing poem were appropriate; Cassandra owns the joint and sells a mean veggie burger on Ciabatta bread with skim latte; and my delicious girlfriend Jami Buck was there (kisses).

Twas a real solid mix of love poems, edge energy, musical interludes, live guitar and singing, and intelligent charisma. Urban Grind is an institution, and Thursdays are now sponsored by Douglas (of FLOWETIC – Wednesdays on Boulevard and North at the unnamed spot).

Your host at Urban Grind the following week would be my friend, InfraRED. On this night, InfraRED’s eyes lit up in the audience, when I busted out “White Face” for the crowd like so:

in white face

me the

first white

sambo pickaninny

me

your

wigga in white face

i steppinfetchit

on stage

to amuse

as social commentary

as jester joke

on white folk

in bespoke

or haute couture

saying “for sure”

for show

so throw dough

at me

your cracker

cube boy

mr. dynamite

your ice toy

only honkey

tonkey enough

to wear white face

in this place

get yourself together

get yourself together

lynch this

mob me

i sob see

don’t cry G

be glad

thankful

be mad

crank crazy

geekin’ freakin’

if you like

to get funky

not anymore

not this flunky

pale-faced

milk chocolate

yet i rock it

when i talk it

surrounded this place

by white

towers of power

while i shower

you glower

and glare-stare

while i climb-rhyme

one time

in white face

To book Han Vance to feature perform at your event please e-mail: http://www.hanvance@yahoo.com