I recently visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium in Monterey, California. I’ve been there several times before and I’ve always loved it, exploring the wonderful exhibits with Gabe. But this last visit felt unusually soothing and soft. You can see what I mean…Continue reading
Posters are everybody’s art. They gained popularity in the mid-19th century and took off by the end of the 19th century. They announce events, advertise products, or provide information about matters of public interest. The most familiar are those that were designed to advertise absinthe or draw you into a cafe or encourage you to support the war effort.
Some go a little further to tell important stories, envision the future, or present exceptional artistry. Some of the best examples I found all happen to be a part of California history. Except one.
I am sensing that there is a sort of low grade malaise happening out there right now, even in spite of our best efforts. It’s ok. People have been doing the blues for a long time. The blues have made people famous and happy and powerful. Here are some of them.
Growing up in greater Los Angeles (it’s greater than San Berdoo, I guess), I lived near communities that were Chicano, Latino, Hispanic and cholo, so I felt a special kind of nostalgia seeing dozens of low riders lead yesterday’s Carnaval parade in San Francisco’s Mission District. Continue reading
Street art has become a kind of big deal in some cities. It is an early stage experiment in some places, like Bangkok, and an integral part of the architectural landscape in others, like San Francisco’s Mission District.
When I went to China a few years ago, I didn’t think of Beijing as a city with a thriving arts community. More of a temple/palace/Great Wall kind of place. So I was surprised when I got off the bus in Beijing’s Dashanzi Art Zone. Also called “798,” the neighborhood is a virtual Disneyland of playful murals, outdoor sculptures and aromatheraputic galleries.
Springtime in Los Angeles is gorgeous — blue skies, puffy cumulus clouds, bright orange poppies, lush green hills. Every once in awhile, you smell the syrupy perfume of orange blossoms. The traffic is famously slow on freeways that seem to go nowhere but a lot of the cars are awfully nice. Although my first loyalty is to my geographic soul mate in the north, I feel very comfortable here and even a little nostalgic. Disneyland. Vin Sculley. Olvera Street. Surfer boys. Palm trees.
My Dad loved to write about his feelings and his experiences, and eventually wrote a memoir for his family called Dust of My Feet. The title refers to what he left behind and what he took with him. I think. My sisters will have some opinions about this.