PopSmart

CL has launched a new blog called Sideshow that exists merely so happy party-goers can see their happy faces the day after. We want to help people remember exactly how much fun they had before they were hungover. And we need a couple awesome photographers to do that.

We’ll be giving you the access to the coolest shows, parties and festivals. You’ll be posting wicked photos to our website. And we’ll pay you. It’s an exceedingly symbiotic relationship.

If you think you’re down for the task or know someone who is, contact me at taralynne.pixley@cln.com. Send me some shots you’ve taken that pass for “nightlife photos” (i.e. you and your friends at a party, drinking in your backyard or wreaking havoc elsewhere) and you just might get picked to be CL’s photo ambassador to the nightcrawlers of Atlanta.

Email me with any questions but check out the Sideshow photo galleries first to get an idea of what we’re looking for. Don’t send me photos of your dog, your grandma or that artsy shot of a fire hydrant. Party pics, people.

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As I walk to my seat, I can’t help but notice the palpable static of expectancy and excitement running through this very atypical crowd of ballet-goers. Age, race, gender and money is of little apparent importance to the make-up of the human spectrum filing through the Fox’s gilded doors. It’s refreshing and unique, setting the tone for the evening of dance.

Several minutes from the show opening, dancers in various forms of costume and warm-up clothes preen across the stage, stretching, talking, moving — essentially rehearsing — in full view of the filling theater. Classical ballet merges with modern-influenced choreography to form a hodge-podge of movement, serving as a preview of what’s to come. And suddenly … there is that lull unique to theater, where the crowd has settled in and somewhere a stage manager has signaled a beginning.
Big Boi struts onstage in full Southern I’m-on-my-own-time style replete with hoodie and bright yellow socks. All bravado and bass, he’s in stark contrast to the array of dancers clad all in white behind him. The lights go out, the curtain falls and all I can think is showtime.

From the start, the ballet is a mix of confusing imagery, characters and concepts. One thing I was most curious (and concerned) about was how this performance would flow, what thread would tie the songs together and make a coherent story. It seems those producing the show had the same concerns but also had no answers.

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