ADC Young Guns 6: The Final Fifty, ADC Gallery, New York
September 5, 2008
September. It's not supposed to be 90 degrees in September. Gets me thinking
about the pool. How, even though we're smacked with a couple of really sloppy hot days, the pool in my parents' backyard is still getting gradually colder, making the "ooch, ahcch,
eech, ooch" slow-body-part-lowering-dance longer and harder to get through. I haven't covered a party in our industry in, oh, two weeks? And let me tell you, acclimating myself into
this pool might be harder than I thought. I eased into it rods and cones first, at the ADC Young Guns Final Fifty opening party.
ADC Young Guns has been around since 1996, picking and choosing potential superstars in graphic design, illustration,
photography, advertising, interactive media, film and video, and animation (and more!). The Young Guns are those sharp-shooters under 30 selected out of hundreds of entries from 46
countries. Last night was their opening party/recognition celebration. 
I sat at my desk tapping my fingers, watching the clock on my desktop move either quadruple slowly or in reverse. Where was 7:30 p.m. hiding? I gave up waiting and headed out early
for a little recon - I had to scope out the area before anyone else arrived. The neighborhood where I toil is unique, to put it nicely. From 26th Street to say, 31st Street it's loud
and gritty, with about eight different languages being shouted in my ears and across the streets while flyers are being shoved in my face and that drunk toothless guy yells about an amazing
"sale" around the corner. I never found the sale, but I did find a great looking hubcap that could double as rain gear.
The ADC is situated on much the same sort of street. 29th and 6th is only a little different in that the sun shines a
little longer, keeping some of the street urchins at bay. I kid you not; in broad daylight I've seen more bloody noses than squirrels in Madison Square Park. Where was I?
Yes -- in front of the ADC gallery. Neighborhood aside, the ADC has a great space, and the funky hot-pink accents of their Final Fifty 3D style work-in-progress signage tickled my arty
bone. The façade of their space is floor to almost ceiling windows, and last night the windows were fronted by a table of smiling checker-inners.
Through the windows I could see a square fluorescently lit bar with
indiscernible drinks. But who needs a drink when you can soften your brain just by people watching? The works on display from the talented chosen Final Fifty were nearly shown up by the
visitors themselves -- they were composites of different fashion styles and eras sporting either $300.00 haircuts or home-done 'dos.
You're not going to get a who's who (sorry,
Ken!) of the crew not just because I constantly had empanadas crammed in my pie hole, but also because these people revolve in their arty cliques, low-talking while chin rubbing at the prints on the
walls or the cute fuzzy fellows trotting across the computer screens (I think that was a Coca-Cola installation). I don't like to disturb hipsters in their safe zones. 
Speaking of safe zones, let's chew about the drink
selection. I waited along with other potentially hostile open bar aficionados and, when it was finally my turn, I ordered two glasses of vino (not just for me). It was then that I
was informed the only beverage available was a mojito. I'm so sorry, faithful readers, that I didn't get the name of the vodka or rum or whatever ingredient used, because I would warn
you hotly to avoid it! This was quite possibly the worst mojito I have ever forced myself to swallow. Think vanilla-flavored rubbing alcohol with a dash of mint. I had to cover it with
ground beef empanadas.
Short story: New Young Guns=good! Drinks=honkable! Food=noshable! ADC Young Guns Final Fifty=go-able! So, go!
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