Arts & Culture

The year 2016 in America was a crushing, 12-month family road trip in our cramped Buick LeSabre with no air conditioning and plenty of stench. We drove to the sun and back.

You’ve probably seen Jake Nelson’s art and not even realized it.

The growing campus offers a smart selection of cultural attractions for the public. Here’s a crash course.

“So when you see my Christmas card and I see yours—and when some poor bastard has to slog through Aunt Gertie’s thousand-page newsletter—we can all nod and wink at each other and know that we’re seeing a picture, but not the whole picture.”

“I don’t love living in Lafayette, but I do love teaching and working with my students. And Indianapolis is actually one of my favorite cities.”

“I dress normally when I’m not in character, but some guys get wrapped up in it. They dress like Santa every day, and they’ll lose themselves.”

Almost everyone in Indianapolis should be familiar with Russell’s work, even if they didn’t realize it. The large cutout people with the words “we,” “us,” and “all” at the corner of Michigan Street and Mass Ave. is one of the best examples of Russell’s public art.

Straight No Chaser comes back home for its 20th anniversary.

If Ram had a signature T-shirt, it might read, “I won a silver at the Rio Olympics, I’m ranked in the top 20 … and all Indianapolis ever gave me was this lousy magazine story.”

From Andrew Luck’s Book Club to Roxane Gay’s Twitter account, here are the Best of Indy selections in arts and culture.

Cheetos. Pulled pork. Oh, and, yeah, the game lineup. Everything you need to have on hand for Saturday’s day-long hoops hysteria.

You don’t have to travel to a galaxy far, far away to experience Rogue One: A Star Wars Story the way it was intended.

“Hello there, ma’am. I’m Nate. These are my children: Mötley, Beowulf, and Metallica’s Master of Puppets Album. We’re here for the birthday pizza party and– BEOWULF NO! PULL YOUR PANTS UP.”

An insane asylum with eight iconic women? Chamber Music certainly has its quirks.

Most lifelong Indianapolis residents over the age of 40 still light up like a twinkling star at the mention of L.S. Ayres’s Christmas windows.