BEST PLACE TO SPEND SUNDAY MORNING 2007 | Pilgrim Rest Baptist Church | People & Places | Phoenix
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We gotta tell you something, sister: You haven't been to church until you've been to Pilgrim Rest. This isn't about a particular religion. We are talking strictly soul. The church, which has been a staple in the Eastlake Park neighborhood of Phoenix for years, is standing-room only on Sundays, with a line out the door. The walls thunder with the sounds of spirituals and occasional funk band riffs, while big-voiced singers belt out the love of the Lord. The church is quite welcoming to visitors and you can't help but be inspired to conquer the troubles of the world — or at least the woes in your life — after hearing Pastor Alexis Thomas perform from the pulpit. Some of our favorite sermon themes include, "Don't miss your connection!", "You gotta have a breakdown to have a breakthrough," and "Put yo'self back together again, just like Humpty Dumpty after he done fell off that wall!" Go 'head, Pastor Thomas!
Third Friday art walks may not be as bumpin' as First Fridays, but the one thing we love about them is the free-flowing wine and beer at most galleries. It's a great way to booze your way into the weekend, courtesy of the artists. But no one offered a better way to get nailed in 2007 than Kjel Alkire at eye lounge gallery on Roosevelt Row. With a background in seminary training and education, Alkire's work revolves around Christian themes and intellectual explorations of religious belief. His art performances involve his alter ego, Reverend Rodeo, who gladly provided ice-cold beer to his congregation on the Third Friday of August. And Alkire's "Pulpit" exhibition included a provocative activity in which you could get hammered in another way. The back room of the east gallery was lined with panels of salvaged wood, transforming the entire space. Bins contained plush dolls of Jesus in the classic crucifixion pose, and accompanying the dolls were punch cards that listed various sins. Participants were invited to use a nail to punch holes next to sins they'd committed. Then, to drive home the point of the resulting boundless shame, Alkire instructed viewers to grab a Jesus doll and nail it to the wall. The idea may have seemed too blasphemous at first, but after a few brewskis, getting hammered with Jesus wasn't such a bad idea after all.
We love The Roosevelt. Great décor, beer, wine, and food — it was a no-brainer to add it to our rotation when Matt Pool opened for business last year. We don't always love the line for the, ahem, facilities, in which we inevitably find ourselves after a couple of rounds of libations. Sure, you can always strike up a diversionary conversation while in line, but when it's time to go, it's time to go. It took only a couple of visits to discover the holy grail in the back patio, between the bar and the kitchen. Tucked behind the tap room is a small bathroom, accessible only from outside. We can't believe no one's discovered it. Oh, wait, now you have. Uh oh.
Usually, the unwritten code of conduct for the urinals in every men's room is eyes forward at all times. But we'll understand if you find it hard to keep your peepers straight ahead while doing the deed in the boys' bathroom at fratboy heaven Dos Gringos in Old Town Scottsdale.

Hey, before you say anything, we ain't claiming you're trying to sneak a little peek at anyone (not that there's anything wrong with that if you were); it's just that the groovy and goofy graffiti lining the walls of the pee parlor is extremely eye-catching and hilarious. Prominently featuring the joint's barrel-wearing doofus mascot, the paint job contains pop culture quotes from a variety of sources, as well as a few scatological turns of phrase. Our favorite from the former category is Homer Simpson's side-splitting parodying of "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba: "I drink a whiskey drink/I drink a chocolate drink/and when I have to pee/I use the kitchen sink." Good times.

Benjamin Leatherman
The ladies' loo at this British pub is like a work of lowbrow community art, with bright red walls, sickly, mellow-yellow hospital hallway lighting and a cheap, faux Deco mirror with a glued-on frame made of glass aquarium rocks — half of which are missing. British currency (which depicts the queen's big mug, of course) is glued here and there on the wall, some with bubbles drawn from the queen's mouth that have her saying things like, "Hi, I'm yer sister! Boink me, mate!" The graffiti, scrawled all over the walls in black marker, contains quips like, "Today, I drew a blank. I think it's the best thing I've ever drawn," and "Do not poke the sleeping dragon. For you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup."

But despite its smarmy, punk truckstop vibe, the G&D can is always clean where you need it to be clean, if you get our drift. There might be some paper towels strewn here and there or some soap spilled on the floor, but we're never afraid to sit down to pee.

We know a date at the art museum is about as fresh as talking astrology at a bar. But take your date to Yayoi Kusama's You Who Are Getting Obliterated in the Dancing Swarm of Fireflies mixed-media installation with LED lights at Phoenix Art Museum and you will be sure to dazzle your date into a quick first kiss. The installation, housed in the Laurie and Drew Brown Gallery at the top floor of the newly expanded museum, is a dark room with mirrors lining the walls, ceiling, and floor. The only illumination comes from strings of dim lights that dangle from the ceiling and float only one foot above the mirrored floor.

The small light strings dim and fade between colors. The endless reflection creates a space with no visual boundaries that bombards us with an overwhelming sense of thrilling disorientation. Stepping into the seemingly infinite space will take your breath away. With such heightened excitement, latching onto your hot date and making the move is only natural.

And if you're shy about PDA, don't sweat it — Phoenix Art Museum volunteers allow only two people into the installation at a time and don't stick around to watch. And while the temptation may be to make the moment last, there are other people waiting in line to get some — so make it quick.

Making the haul to Sun City for a visit with Gramps will be much more pleasant if you make a pit stop at the West Valley Art Museum. We discovered this little gem and couldn't believe that such refinery was hiding in the hinterlands.

The gorgeous, modern building houses a permanent collection of more than 4,000 pieces that range from expected paintings, sculptures, and drawings to sneaky surprises like ethnic dress, textiles, and fine crafts. The museum also circulates temporary exhibitions of local or Southwestern artists. But don't let that scare you — these pros pick contemporary artists who facilitate a Southwestern flavor with innovative aesthetics — no howling coyotes or dream-catchers here.

And if you hit the place over the weekend, you might be lucky enough to catch a music recital.

After an uncomfy visit to the elderly, there's nothing like taking in some killer art with the sweet sounds of Beethoven drifting through the galleries.

Too often, public art means dancing naked ladies or portrait statues of important figureheads. But Michele Stuhl's white-painted steel arch, which looms over McDowell Road between 16th and 17th streets, focuses on location by mimicking the cityscape of surrounding buildings and an abstracted picket fence at the apex, bringing to mind the surrounding residential areas. On a clear day, the sunlit white sings against our blue sky — a relief in the midst of traffic and surrounding strip malls. The structure not only looks beautiful, but also commemorates a time in the 1950s when the stretch of McDowell Road from 12th to 20th streets was a bustling and vibrant business district, referred to as the "Miracle Mile." Of course, with the city's growth, the area has experienced a decline, but it will keep some class as long as this piece is integrated in the scenery.
Anyone remember what this big-ass steel Frisbee at Wesley Bolin Memorial Plaza downtown was supposed to be for? Yep, it's the much fought-over Arizona 9/11 memorial, the one the right-wingers railed about and implied was traitorous during the 2006 gubernatorial donnybrook between Len Munsil and Janet Napolitano. Now the goofy Funyun-lookin' object has quietly slipped into much-deserved obscurity.

No one gives a crap anymore about the 9/11 shrine, and it's ridiculous that we ever did, seeing that the attacks were thousands of miles away on the East Coast. Indeed, other than one dood from Tempe in the wrong place, wrong time, the connection between the 9/11 strikes and the Zona was always tenuous at best, as long as you don't count 9/11 hijacker Hani Hanjour slamming Flight 77 into the side of the Pentagon. He was trained partly in AZ, you see. At least with the attack on Pearl Harbor, there was the USS Arizona. And there are enough Vietnam vets and Korean War vets from AZ to justify their monuments. The 9/11 Memorial, however, is a colossal non sequitur that never should've been built to begin with. That's clearer than it's ever been.

We reckon the town fathers of Guadalupe must be passing out paint by the bucketful, as many of the buildings along its main drag of Avenida del Yaqui are decked out with murals or other brushed-on decorations of some form or another. Not that we're complaining or anything, as the rough-around-the-edge-style renditions of Christ's crucifixion or commemorations of the town's shared Latino and Yaqui Indian heritage give the tiny Hispanic hamlet a sense of folk art panache.

The mural we've been digging the most lately is a tattoo-like creation covering the front of the Guadalupe Youth & Young Adult Program building. Created in 2003 by a number of the program's teenage members under the guidance of a local art instructor, the 12-foot-wide, 5-foot-high painting utilizes imagery from throughout Chicano history and culture on either side of a large icon of a sacred heart. The past is depicted by an Aztec warrior and the Virgin Mary, while the present is represented by Dia de Los Muertos skeletons, a vato-like skull, and a pair of the "laugh now, cry later" drama masks. Has us eyeing that blank cinderblock fence in the backyard...

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