The sign on the building reads “H & H Outdoors,” advertising “Selection, Quality and Value” on camping gear. There’s a number on the sign, and green segmented windows are arranged over an unassuming white exterior. There is no indication that above the surplus store is a vibrant community of DIY artists and performers.
On the sixth floor of the building is the venue, Floristree. Painted stairs of concrete pocked with scrapes leads upward, and the railing is painted a similar shade of cream. The dimensions between the walls are narrow, and this is exacerbated by the fact that the stairwell is lined with people engaging in conversations about music and art, cigarettes in hand.
You walk through the doors and the fact that this is essentially a converted warehouse becomes apparent. It’s in the lighting, the slight echoing of voices and the sporadic unidentifiable piece of machinery that sits in the corner.
You stand in line and pay for the show. The girl at the desk draws a smiley face or some configuration of that on your hand, but you realize that no one is really going to check. You pay the $5 cover because that’s what you do. It’s a community performance space with an emphasis on community.
To the right of the “box office” is a skate ramp. Look up. This is good advice to follow whenever you are entering somewhere unfamiliar. Hanging from the ceiling is what looks like an enormous bouquet of flowers.
The green window frames and the painted walls start to come together. You remember that nobody is going on this stage to promote a lucrative record contract. And despite the fact that members of the band Future Islands and Dan Deacon are standing there with beers in hand, no one is going to hassle them in this place. Tonight they are here to support the performers and to experience the music.
Directly across from the main performance stage is a kitchen, which really does accentuate the idea that this is a living space — a space where art is constantly being made, torn apart and remade.
Sophomore Will Scerbo reflected on the first time he went to a show at the venue.
“I went to Floristree for a Nerftoss album release show and people were making quesadillas in the kitchen while M.C. Schmidt (of Matmos fame) was on stage performing a comedy sketch,” he said.
Tonight Matmos is premiering Ultimate Care II, an album that features the very Whirlpool washing machine to create ambitious and texturally adventurous music. The washing machine is front and center on the stage, waiting to be rubbed and smacked for the sake of exploring new soundscapes.
Bonnie Jones is opening with a noise set that is built around mechanically repurposing guitar pedals, a technique that is often employed by noise musicians. After her set, Matmos begins their show with visuals that are vibrant and fluid. Hopkins English professor Drew Daniel (who is a member of the group) is onstage with M.C. Schmidt around the washing machine with two microphones goose necked over it.
The cohesion of the music and visual display is very apparent as water sloshes in the washing machine to different levels of feedback. It is akin to being in a rhythmic trance; The performance melds together with the atmosphere of high ceilings and diverse crowd. As the show comes to a close, people mingle and there is a kind of indescribable spirit of camaraderie in this artist-run, artist-curated and artist-inhabited space.
Floristree is like a representative slice of the entire Baltimore music and art community, one that is as welcoming as the city of which it is a part of.
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