“It’s an exciting time for all of us who have this interest because we’re getting ready to do space exploration again, for real.”
At 2:10 a.m. on a Sunday, the inside of Northside Tavern looks like a musical tempest has blown through. The barbecue has disappeared from its foil pans, and PBR empties crowd the barrel-mounted octagonal tabletops. Outside, black Uber cars collect and discharge passengers. But Eddie Tigner, four hours into his birthday show, has no plans to wind down for the night.
Black Lives Matter isn’t a traditional civil rights organization. But the movement is producing leaders, most of whom are not preachers or politicians—or even men. Meet three of the women behind Black Lives Matter in Atlanta.
As Atlanta’s first-ever “chief bicycle officer,” her job is a mix of public relations (spreading the gospel of bicycling in a city of agnostics), politics (cutting through red tape to boost ridership), and planning (expanding the city’s anemic network of bike lanes).
“Man,” Lee Haney says, “I am puzzled! Golly. Oh my goodness. Mass confusion! I feel like Captain America when he fell in the ice and woke up years later.”
When life takes a turn for the dramatic, anyone can feel like the star of their own movie. Most people, though, will not go to the lengths Bill Lundy did to translate their experiences to the big screen.
Tacoma Art Museum curator Rock Hushka and a co-curator spent 10 years putting together Art AIDS America, a traveling exhibition of 100-plus works that stops at Kennesaw’s Zuckerman Museum of Art this month.
From her home in Los Angeles, Lucinda Williams chatted with us about how Georgia played a role in the creation of her new record, how the South has changed over the decades, her support for Bernie Sanders, and her newfound fascination with dub remixes.
Vik Muniz gathered hundreds of pieces of trash from the largest landfill in Rio de Janeiro to create an enormous sculpture—a portrait—made from soda cans, broken computer monitors and toys, bike parts, even an old cash register.
Take an early look at four new restaurants in Atlanta—El Super Pan, Himitsu, Gaja, and Porchlight Latin Kitchen.
The prices at Marcel are stupendous. From the moment you do a double take at the menu, you’ll wonder why you would pay them. And when the check comes, you’ll still have no idea. Virtually every aspect of the chaotic, fragmented service feels clumsy or neglectful, and the kitchen has one instinct—leaden excess.
The profiteroles at Cafe Alsace have developed quite a reputation since Benedicte Cooper first put them on the menu 18 years ago. “We have regular customers who order them on their anniversaries instead of Champagne,” says Cooper.
You’ve likely never heard of the Cake Hag. That’s because for the past 13 years, mother-daughter team Maggie and Katie Sweeney have lived on word of mouth.
Really, I don’t mind waiting for a table. It’s part of the experience, and one can learn a lot about a place by just showing up. Plus, where to go to feast on smothered chicken, pork neck bones, turkey wings, and oxtail buried in gravy.
The culinary equivalent of a first impression, a restaurant’s name is the quickest way to stand out from the competition. Can you figure out what could have been for these 8 Atlanta restaurants?
Katie Barringer says it’s okay to judge her books by their gorgeous covers—just don’t leave without leafing through a few first.
11 stylish wardrobe elements from David Yurman, Ann Taylor, Brunello Cucinelli, and more.
Twenty miles south of Nashville, Franklin’s downtown is lined with boutiques, restaurants, art galleries, and specialty shops, with scarcely a chain store in sight.
A Charlotte native and UGA grad, 26-year-old Mason worked as a trainer and fitness model in New York, appearing in ad campaigns for big brands like Under Armour and Nike and discovering smaller, style-savvy labels
“When partygoers make it into a kitchen, they tend to never leave,” says interior designer Courtney Giles Decker. To route guests elsewhere in her own home, she turned a hallway into a bar, drawing people into a space fully stocked for cocktail hour.
Human beings have been complaining about the next generation since Adam and Eve first put Cain in time-out for picking on his brother. It’s a law of nature. But only in the past century have we been ascribing labels to generations: the Silent Generation, baby boomers, Generation X, millennials.
As tonight’s rehearsal begins, Nadia sits in the shadows, chin on her prop drumstick as she pantomimes the words being sung onstage. Toward the end of act one, she gets her cue—Maureen’s solo, “Over the Moon.”