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Photograph by Virginia Harold
This piece is being typed as I sit in the expansive back yard of a hiply appointed brick home in Gravois Park. It’s owned by Jamie D. Jessop and Lana Camp. Together, they've run a basement-based art gathering called Ert Night. The creative evening’s been running for a while now—about three years—and is held in the couple's home, "Camp Jessop," on most Monday evenings.
The yard’s got a lot of elbow room. It’s seemingly double-wide, and contains everything from a fire pit to a chicken coop to a seating shelter. The basement's a bit tighter. In effect, it's your average South City basement, with low ceilings and plenty of little nooks and crannies. Luckily, during these summer months, the experiential art event can spill out into the yard, with the back steps the primary space to hang out and catch up.
What most South City basements don't have is Wayne St. Wayne as a doorman. Tonight, as I wade into the space, St. Wayne's dabbing at a couple record albums, covered in paintings of monsters and eyeballs. He opens the door, welcomes me in and tells me that the escalator's out of order, that I should watch my step on entering. He says so as the sound of EDM spills and fills the lower level of the house, where a handful of people paint, snap photos; in one case, a woman’s doing calisthenics.
Jessop's been cruising the yard, moving lights, tables and chairs and making sure that everyone knows that there's a lot more going on inside, including a room for massage; that's where Camp is now, and where some other folks plan on heading as the night ticks along. Wearing his trademark dark skullcap despite the warmth of the evening, Jessop's the ultimate host.
The event, as I've found out in recent weeks, comes with minimal strings attached. If you show up, you're assumed to contribute to the vibe of the night by drawing, or writing poetry, or deejaying. Most folks, though, are working in some form of visual art. To not participate is to bend the night's small set of rules; though as I look around the yard now, a couple folks haven't decamped from the back steps, with socialization their art.
Only two weeks back, Ert Night was a very different experience. I'd gotten a late note from Michael Draga, whom I've known since the two of us haunted the old Wabash Triangle Cafe. He mentioned that Ert Night was a worthy event to attend, and that it had moved into the first floor of 2720 Cherokee for the evening, the second month they'd shifted venues to 2720. In June, Ert Night complemented a bawdy, touring circus sideshow that was playing the venue. The evening clicked enough to bring back Ert Night the following month.
On that July evening, a full jam band played a short set of improv-based music, preceding a deejay set by Dylan Hassinger. About a dozen folks fanned out across the 2720 dance floor, and more artists were scattered through the rest of the space, including the patio. Lots of faces were familiar: Draga, St. Wayne, Hassinger, Camp, Musster Smudos, Julie Malone. Other faces seemed familiar, even if I wasn't aware of them by name, a few of them dating back to various bohemian hangs around the South Side. During Ert Night’s July gig at 2720, at least four people roamed the room with cameras; in no corner was a shy person safe from the all-seeing lens.
That evening, 2720 mover/shaker Josh Grigaitis was selling beer at his bar, a one-man operation on the evening. His feeling was that the creativity of Ert Night fit the space's vibe. His hope was that it would continue on a monthly basis, a fact that Jessop just confirmed for me a few minutes back.
As the evening's progressed here, the social scene's rolled my way. Even as the bantam chickens have gone into their shelter for the evening, a small, black-and-white dog's made the rounds, passing through my legs a minute back. A young lady named Shannon's showing off a truly painful case of sunburn. And Camp's emerged from the house, swearing by Randy, the night's masseuse. Neighborhood kids set off a few rounds of leftover fireworks. St. Wayne's now sitting in a wheelchair to my left, rolled up for his seating needs by Jessop. A fellow doorman at The Royale, Billy the Barber, is shooting me questions from a table over, where his friend Amy, a new visitor, is being greeted by Camp. It’s all very collegial.
A tall gent named Dan's been by a few times, asking me what I'm here to work on. It's something that you hear at Ert Night, as people check in with one another on whatever project's being chipped at. As it's turned out, Dan's now kneeling in the grass, sketching. Nearby, a tie-dyed fellow is hard at work on an airbrush project; his paint kit's tiny, motorized generator hums.
A couple of other social opportunities have come rolling in via text as the night's ticked away, and I might not be long for the space. But it's an interesting concept that I’m sitting in right now, an open house for creativity, built upon word-of-mouth and goodwill. Here’s a couple willingly sharing their home with an "interesting cast of characters," as St. Wayne just called them.
As noted, there'll be another couple weeks of house-based Ert Night happening before the event returns to 2720. It's a night that Grigaitis would obviously like some folks to come out to, and the space allows for a wider swath of the public to drop in. You're allowed to go, reader, though it's recommended that you consider walking in with at least a pocketful of colored pens, in case you get asked what's up. Consider dropping by around 9 p.m., when the evening's in primetime: the music going, the brushes moving, and the cameras pointing in every direction.
Here are some final thoughts, compliments of Draga:
“I would usually go to the movies two or three times a week and Monday was one of those, but I had nothing else better to do that night. Like the event and the people of the Wabash 20 years ago or so the world opened up to me again at Ert Night.
“I immediately became at home there. There were the like-minded people there all striving to do the same thing, using the right side of the brain, being creative at one form or another. Almost at once I became the mentor of a lot of the younger people there, my being the oldest Erter.
“There were a few younger photographers who wanted to pick my brain for tips and advice, hearing that I was an accomplished, fairly well-known photographer. There were others who saw me as a painter. One young woman who was a painter wanted to always sit next to me to get what vibe she could from me. This became a way for me to be the teacher I was trained to be, and another way to give back.
“The essence, at least to me, is like classroom dynamics, not only vertical learning from, in this case, mentor to learner but horizontal learning, everyone learning from each other. Ert Night is a mutual feeding frenzy.
“There is only one rule, be creative. This broadens the criteria. For instance we have painters, photographers, ceramists, sound designers, light show artists, culinary artists, musicians. We may even stretch it to writers.
“I have had one person I invited, Brittany Marquart, co-owner of 2720, hence the connection, who told me ‘This is the most fun I have ever had on a Monday Night.’”
Ert Night will return to 2720 on Monday, August 5. Free admission; bring ID.
Photographs by Virginia Harold, virginiaharold.zenfolio.com
