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Friday, Dec. 2, 2005, 6:30 p.m.: My three best friends and I don our best vintage cardigans, converse sneakers and cuffed jeans and head to Old City, a pack of cloves in our shoulder-strap messenger bags.

We rename ourselves as months of the year -- July, August, September, October -- in an appropriately artistic fashion. It's First Friday, and we're ready for anything the Philadelphia art scene can throw at us.

First Fridays occur the first Friday of every month, from 5 to 9 p.m., when all of the art galleries in Old City open their doors free of charge.

For Penn students, First Fridays provide an opportunity to get off campus, get some culture, get buzzed off free wine and laugh at the artsy kids. Mostly, they provide a chance to laugh at the artsy kids.

The artsy kids, otherwise known as hipsters, scenesters, beatniks, bohos, pomos, neo-hippies and more are an undeniable part of First Friday culture. Marked by their spiky asymmetrical haircuts and ironic T-shirts, their presence is so striking that one almost feels the need to dress the part or else feel out of place.

For my friends and I, the opportunity to drown in vintage is quickly seized, but, for many, the saturation of thick black glasses and body piercings is overwhelming, if not repelling.

According to the Old City Art Council, the purpose of First Fridays is to "bring together city dwellers and suburbanites ... aficionados of classical and contemporary design and theater and performance buffs."

First Fridays attempt to make art accessible to the masses by erasing the discomfort and pretension typically associated with art galleries, yet the pretension of modern art students at this very same event is actually making the art inaccessible.

The week of Nov. 9, 2005, Philadelphia Weekly ran a cover story entitled "The Trouble With Hipsters: Why We Hate Them," in which they criticized the "crazy, malnourished, bespectacled, follicly challenged, hipper-than-thou little fucks" for their "cultural fascism and the belief that populism is somehow inherently evil."

Not only does the hipster population frequent First Fridays, but they've also, it seems, gained control of the art scene, and by doing so, turned the "art" galleries into an odd collection of paintings and sculptures unappealing to the general public.

Examples include the Third Street Gallery's January 2005 featured artist, Justin Snow, whose art resembles something a kindergartner created with finger paint but has names such as "The Foolish Puppet" or "People of the World."

Equally bizarre was Larry Spaid's October installation in the Snyderman Gallery on Third and Cherry streets, which featured a room of canvases covered with squares and lines, eerily reminiscent of my eighth grade geometry project.

Undoubtedly, art standards have changed in the past century or so, but how do Philadelphia galleries expect to attract a large following with paintings you could find at a back-to-school night? With such exhibits, local galleries seem to cater to a small slice of society.

Yet, while I strongly dislike the hipster influence in galleries, I have to compliment their influence elsewhere. Always creative, many hipsters have used their talents to create stunning works of art all over the city.

The Mural Arts Program, for example, started in 1984 as an anti-graffiti campaign, created 145 new murals around Philadelphia in 2005 alone. These hipsters are modern-day Michaelangelos choosing brick walls over chapel ceilings.

Campaigns to decorate South Street with mirrored gardens are undoubtedly hipster-initiated and beautiful.

In addition, the hipster influence does not extend to all of the city's major art venues -- traditional forums such as the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Rodin Museum and the Woodmere Art Museum remain meccas of exquisite art that everyone can enjoy.

It's hard to tell how long the hipster influence on art will last. Yet until it ends, each month, I look forward to playing dress up, calling myself "July" and heading downtown for First Friday to socialize and act pretentious. Besides, I know if I ever crave "real" art, the Philadelphia Museum of Art is just a cab ride away.

Kate Bracaglia is a junior English major from Basking Ridge, N.J. e-mail is . Static Quo appears on Wednesdays.

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