Tuesday, November 20, 2007
I just realized I think the show at Junc comes down next week. If you get a chance you should try and see it. (hint hint to my brother and sister) We worked pretty hard on the show. Plus there is a really good pupusa place down the street that also make great juices, so you could have lunch and then sneak to the back of GR/Junc and check it out on a happy stomach.
The address for Junc is 4017 Sunset Blvd. Los Angeles, CA
The address for Junc is 4017 Sunset Blvd. Los Angeles, CA
Monday, November 19, 2007
So Brian and I made the trip up north this weekend. I am so glad we went. Not only did we get a good amount of paintings done/started, I also had a chance to become re-enamored with Berkley.
I just like that people look healthy and content there. Most women don’t wear make-up and are funky and natural. Kids wear bright red rain boots on sunny days. Men smile and carry their babies around. Cars have bumper stickers. Stores are owned by people. Happy things.
Friday, after Breakfast at this electric blue new-revolutionary cafe, Zach, Brian and I took the train to SFMOMA. Luckily we started from the top down. Olafur Eliasson was on the 5th floor across the bridge (which he modified amazingly). His pieces were primarily interactive, which might seem hokey, but since it was environmentally/science based I thought it was interesting. Especially the little hole filled with mirrors that made you feel like you were a million stories up in a dark building at night. Here is a picture of me in the mist cave.
Friday, after Breakfast at this electric blue new-revolutionary cafe, Zach, Brian and I took the train to SFMOMA. Luckily we started from the top down. Olafur Eliasson was on the 5th floor across the bridge (which he modified amazingly). His pieces were primarily interactive, which might seem hokey, but since it was environmentally/science based I thought it was interesting. Especially the little hole filled with mirrors that made you feel like you were a million stories up in a dark building at night. Here is a picture of me in the mist cave.
Following this was a dock with water projected from behind it. As we were standing there, a woman with an older man figured out that if she ran his wheelchair into certain planks she could make ripples. She rammed the chair excitedly about four times while I wondered if this thrilled or annoyed him. It was really dark though, so I couldn’t read his features.
On the next floor we visited the ice car that Eliasson had also designed. I was fascinated by the girls that stood at either ends and importantly called out the temperature of the freezer to each other. I liked the idea of these really young women being entrusted with maintaining the delicate existence of the car. I didn’t stay in the freezer long. Not because of the cold, but because the perfectly formed rows of icicles that made up the car begged me to smash them. I was really surprised no one else had felt the same urge at a more uncontrollable level. According to Zach the incident they did have only involved licking.
The Joseph Cornell exhibit was great but perhaps a bit overwhelming/extensive. I surprisingly found myself wishing it had been edited a little more so that I could spend more time on individual pieces without regretting the hundreds that I had yet to see. He did have an amazing zine like publication called the pultry pages that stuck out for me. It was all about poulty and prizes and appropriated nonsense. Very inspiring.
Though it was a running joke that I see Berkley through rose color glasses, Friday, after we had gone to the Moma I found proof of its undeniable superiority. Zach took me to Berkley Bowl, the hippy market not far from his house (and also near the biggest movie rental place in the world.) It was unbelievable. Every vegetable you can imagine was there, and then for each kind there was a dozen different varieties. I couldn’t even count how many different kinds of mushrooms there were. I did count the sweet potatos. 13 different types. Here is a picture that does not even begin to explain it.
On the next floor we visited the ice car that Eliasson had also designed. I was fascinated by the girls that stood at either ends and importantly called out the temperature of the freezer to each other. I liked the idea of these really young women being entrusted with maintaining the delicate existence of the car. I didn’t stay in the freezer long. Not because of the cold, but because the perfectly formed rows of icicles that made up the car begged me to smash them. I was really surprised no one else had felt the same urge at a more uncontrollable level. According to Zach the incident they did have only involved licking.
The Joseph Cornell exhibit was great but perhaps a bit overwhelming/extensive. I surprisingly found myself wishing it had been edited a little more so that I could spend more time on individual pieces without regretting the hundreds that I had yet to see. He did have an amazing zine like publication called the pultry pages that stuck out for me. It was all about poulty and prizes and appropriated nonsense. Very inspiring.
Though it was a running joke that I see Berkley through rose color glasses, Friday, after we had gone to the Moma I found proof of its undeniable superiority. Zach took me to Berkley Bowl, the hippy market not far from his house (and also near the biggest movie rental place in the world.) It was unbelievable. Every vegetable you can imagine was there, and then for each kind there was a dozen different varieties. I couldn’t even count how many different kinds of mushrooms there were. I did count the sweet potatos. 13 different types. Here is a picture that does not even begin to explain it.
On Saturday we met Brendan and Evah for a late Breakfast at La Note. I thought that ‘note’ meant night, which would have been delightfully ironic, only it doesn’t. Our waitress was really French and unbearably beautiful in a way that makes you believe the French are right to feel superior. The food was good to, but I made a mistake in not getting a savory breakfast. Here we are.
When I told them I was taking a picture Brendan started slo-mo-ing food into his mouth. (Just in case you thought I was being inconsiderate.) La Note has the best potatoes garlic and cooked tomatoes. It made me want to cook. After breakfast we walked through the farmer's market (further proof) and I felt so happy to be with friends and to have had such a nice meal that I spontaneously planned a dinner party while saying goodbye without even making sure it was okay with Zach. (Luckily it was, and we had another nice meal before we left)
After breakfast Zach and Brian hauled out a table into the living room of Zach’s apartment and we all started painting. This was what we did for the next two days (besides eating) and it was really really satisfying. It made me a lot more excited about the show (which we just found out will be the 16th of February). We don’t have a name for it yet. Here are two if my favorites.
After breakfast Zach and Brian hauled out a table into the living room of Zach’s apartment and we all started painting. This was what we did for the next two days (besides eating) and it was really really satisfying. It made me a lot more excited about the show (which we just found out will be the 16th of February). We don’t have a name for it yet. Here are two if my favorites.
Over the weekend I got a chance to read the sequel to my favorite book ever (Youth in Revolt by C.D.Payne). This made me pretty happy. As did the new music Zach introduced me to. Right now I am listening to Kimya Dawson and having a hard time believing I haven’t always been listening to her. On her website she has picture of herself at Cranberry lake, a place my dad would take my brother and I every weekend of the summer when I was in middle school. We would row a rubber raft into the middle of the lake and then jump out and swim around. It was a little scary because the water was so dark, but totally exhilarating. I like the idea of her being there, in that place I loved so much as a kid.
Happy Early Thanksgiving.
Happy Early Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
It has been a pleasant though uneventful week. Now, however, enough small things have happened that I feel like I should write or nothing big will ever happen again. Fiber!!
Firstly, this weekend Mauricio rediscovered a metrolink station that actually runs late on Saturday nights not far from our house. It may seem difficult to misplace a metro station, but it has an odd residential/industrial park/alley like entrance right in the middle of the train tracks, suspiciously disguised as though to prevent anyone from finding it. It cost a lot: 10.50 on a weekend and about 15.00 on a weekday, but with the price of gas and my disdain for driving it seemed worth it. Included in the price was the possibility of seeing one of the most interesting exchanges between two people ever. A bigger girl with a crew cut, whom I had assumed was a guy until I heard her answer the phone, sat next to us while we waited. She was sugar talking someone on her walkie-talkie cell when a gorgeous girl with pink braids and a security uniform bounced up to her and said “I know you don’t I?” I kept trying to figure out why her uniform was so ill fitting when she teased “have you ever been locked up?” The girl said no, but they were both so happy about it that it seemed odd. Suddenly I realize that the security uniform was probably some kind of stripper costume, hence it’s weird seams and overly large and generic badge. At that moment they boarded to a different car and I suddenly felt left out from this whole train riding stripper world.
So we took the metro to Union Station. I love riding the train. We rode the train a lot when I was a kid and I think something about just grew into my bones. When I work late at night I sometimes hear the same train coming through Pomona that my family used ride every summer . Its whistle seems so significant, as though the sound itself materializes the dark moving mass of beginnings and endings on which you can barely sleep for the company of your own life. Someday I would really like to get the Amtrak pass and head around the states before train travel is phased out altogether.
I swear I played with this thing in the late 80's.
Firstly, this weekend Mauricio rediscovered a metrolink station that actually runs late on Saturday nights not far from our house. It may seem difficult to misplace a metro station, but it has an odd residential/industrial park/alley like entrance right in the middle of the train tracks, suspiciously disguised as though to prevent anyone from finding it. It cost a lot: 10.50 on a weekend and about 15.00 on a weekday, but with the price of gas and my disdain for driving it seemed worth it. Included in the price was the possibility of seeing one of the most interesting exchanges between two people ever. A bigger girl with a crew cut, whom I had assumed was a guy until I heard her answer the phone, sat next to us while we waited. She was sugar talking someone on her walkie-talkie cell when a gorgeous girl with pink braids and a security uniform bounced up to her and said “I know you don’t I?” I kept trying to figure out why her uniform was so ill fitting when she teased “have you ever been locked up?” The girl said no, but they were both so happy about it that it seemed odd. Suddenly I realize that the security uniform was probably some kind of stripper costume, hence it’s weird seams and overly large and generic badge. At that moment they boarded to a different car and I suddenly felt left out from this whole train riding stripper world.
So we took the metro to Union Station. I love riding the train. We rode the train a lot when I was a kid and I think something about just grew into my bones. When I work late at night I sometimes hear the same train coming through Pomona that my family used ride every summer . Its whistle seems so significant, as though the sound itself materializes the dark moving mass of beginnings and endings on which you can barely sleep for the company of your own life. Someday I would really like to get the Amtrak pass and head around the states before train travel is phased out altogether.
I swear I played with this thing in the late 80's.
When we got to Union Station I was starving, so instead of jumping to the gold line we ran across the street to Plaza Olvera. The Plaza was all set up for a slick televised concert sort of thing: the stage was fancy, there were huge tv cranes and lights were flashing. Only the a dj was on, but at that volume, and with the lights, it actually felt very festive. What made Mauricio most excited, however, was the cafe on the corner that had champurrado (a cornflour drink with cinnamon and sugar). While we waited in line I ran into a guy I recognized from the midnight ride we took two weeks ago. I thought maybe he was riding downtown again, but he explained they were riding, on bike, to San Diego that night. He was following a guy who's bike was one step up from a fixed gear. I wonder if they had many hills? I wish we could have gone.
We walked from downtown to Chinatown with our champurrado warm stomachs. There, I promptly ruined that good feeling by drinking beer. The brew somehow mixed with the cornflour and then rose in my stomach. Logical right? Like a recipe for bread or something.
Up at Abacott gallery (in Chinatown) is the work of my two old roommates Eric Nyquist and Mike Mattheson. It was nice to see both them and their paintings. I do miss having hard working artists around to motivate me.
Here is a nice pic of them- though their work is pretty to.
Up at Abacott gallery (in Chinatown) is the work of my two old roommates Eric Nyquist and Mike Mattheson. It was nice to see both them and their paintings. I do miss having hard working artists around to motivate me.
Here is a nice pic of them- though their work is pretty to.
We missed our train and ended up spending a good chunk of the night watching the concert. I was into the music of Calle 13- but when he rapped (poorly, I thought) about girls and his sausage sandwich I walked back inside the station in protest. To put salt in my wound, once inside, I started reading the newest Rolling Stone anniversary issue themed "where we're going" based on longer interviews with the visionaries of today. Only 3 of the 25 visionaries were female. Are we really that shortsighted as women? Because the blatant inequity of the it made me wonder if it is not the other way around. Until our 11:30 train came it was just us, a few sleeping guys and the man who polishes those endless shiny floors of Union Station. He really was a powerhouse, more entertaining to watch than calle 13, especially when he nimbly lifted up the feet of those to inebriated to lift theirs themselves.
I have been on an exercise kick, started by our 60 year old landlady who is kind enough to, somewhat forcefully, teach us her calisthenics routine every Saturday. So Sunday night we rode our bikes to the bookstore that is across from Maurico's bus stop, to which he rides every morning. I think Mauricio was excited to show me the boat house on the route. I will have to put a picture since it is hard to explain, but basically there is a large boat on top of a house, with a seperate part towering into a faux lighthouse; all very theatrical. This morning I accompanied him again so I could see it in the daylight. I was coasting back when I saw a man entering seven eleven, counting a wad of money, wearing an un-buttoned plaid flannel that revealed an entire set of keys hanging from his pierced nipple!!! I felt like it was shiny reward for having exercised.
As far as art work… This weekend I am headed to San Francisco to work on collaborations with Brian Rush and Zachary Rossaman for the show in February at GR2. I am really excited about them.
I have been on an exercise kick, started by our 60 year old landlady who is kind enough to, somewhat forcefully, teach us her calisthenics routine every Saturday. So Sunday night we rode our bikes to the bookstore that is across from Maurico's bus stop, to which he rides every morning. I think Mauricio was excited to show me the boat house on the route. I will have to put a picture since it is hard to explain, but basically there is a large boat on top of a house, with a seperate part towering into a faux lighthouse; all very theatrical. This morning I accompanied him again so I could see it in the daylight. I was coasting back when I saw a man entering seven eleven, counting a wad of money, wearing an un-buttoned plaid flannel that revealed an entire set of keys hanging from his pierced nipple!!! I felt like it was shiny reward for having exercised.
As far as art work… This weekend I am headed to San Francisco to work on collaborations with Brian Rush and Zachary Rossaman for the show in February at GR2. I am really excited about them.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Joshua Tree
Mauricio and I took our teenage nieces camping at Joshua tree this weekend. It turned out to be an excellent trip despite all the trials that plagued us at its beginning. We left Saturday (the oldest had Saturday school) and could not seem to get on the road. The check engine light had gone on in the car, then the battery died and we had to go buy jumper cables and jump it. We didn't have nearly enough room for all our stuff- and by the time we arrived (around 3:30pm) all the regular camping was full. groan...
It turns out the overflow camping is north of the park on a dried up lake bed. It is a vast nothingness of dirt. The directions actually have you follow electric poles because the makeshift roads are not marked. When we got the lake-bed we drove over to where we saw a port-a-potty and a couple of hippy vans and almost exploded out of our car. Soon after we had all used the facilities, a man with a grateful dead shirt hiked over to tell us that they had rented the port-a-potty for a private party, that they were going to be very loud, that there was going to be a live band and that they would shortly be shooting at a makeshift range: we might want to move. We agreed- gave him eight dollars so we could keep using their bathroom and then drove to the other side of the lake bed and set up camp.
This turned out to be very spooky. The walk to the bathroom was a little under a mile and in the dark the flashlight would have nothing to land on for most of way besides pieces of scrap and funny shadows in the dirt. Then bouncy lights came up on the other side of a nearby mountain. (maybe there is a millitary base?) This would have been strange enough but then blasts started from where the lights had been that shook the lake bed and made us all go very quiet in anticipation. The girls were ready to get out of there and Mauricio and I had to pretend like we weren't worried.
Since I had hardly slept the night before, I did fall asleeep before they all went out to greet the strange parade of police, motorcycles and cars that passed our tent and went up the mountain; we assume to investigate. Ironically, we had offered to take them camping in place of a promised trip to knott's scary farm. In the end they decided this had been a lot scarier.
The next day we fooled around on some of the big rocks and then finally hiked Ryan mountain. This was really a challenge for the youngest- and made arriving at the peak feel truly triumphant. I am posting some completely cheesy photos as proof.
(mauricio insisted on buying firewood ahead of time...)
This was going to be the great group photo of the trip- only I managed to "kill" it by poking Mauricio in the eyes. I though he was giving me horns but he had actually leaned his head on top of mine. Afterwards he gave me a big lecture about using my five senses; a speech which my nieces found endless opportunities to repeat back to him. It became a pretty big joke. I still feel bad- but can't help cracking up at how awful the photo is.
It turns out the overflow camping is north of the park on a dried up lake bed. It is a vast nothingness of dirt. The directions actually have you follow electric poles because the makeshift roads are not marked. When we got the lake-bed we drove over to where we saw a port-a-potty and a couple of hippy vans and almost exploded out of our car. Soon after we had all used the facilities, a man with a grateful dead shirt hiked over to tell us that they had rented the port-a-potty for a private party, that they were going to be very loud, that there was going to be a live band and that they would shortly be shooting at a makeshift range: we might want to move. We agreed- gave him eight dollars so we could keep using their bathroom and then drove to the other side of the lake bed and set up camp.
This turned out to be very spooky. The walk to the bathroom was a little under a mile and in the dark the flashlight would have nothing to land on for most of way besides pieces of scrap and funny shadows in the dirt. Then bouncy lights came up on the other side of a nearby mountain. (maybe there is a millitary base?) This would have been strange enough but then blasts started from where the lights had been that shook the lake bed and made us all go very quiet in anticipation. The girls were ready to get out of there and Mauricio and I had to pretend like we weren't worried.
Since I had hardly slept the night before, I did fall asleeep before they all went out to greet the strange parade of police, motorcycles and cars that passed our tent and went up the mountain; we assume to investigate. Ironically, we had offered to take them camping in place of a promised trip to knott's scary farm. In the end they decided this had been a lot scarier.
The next day we fooled around on some of the big rocks and then finally hiked Ryan mountain. This was really a challenge for the youngest- and made arriving at the peak feel truly triumphant. I am posting some completely cheesy photos as proof.
(mauricio insisted on buying firewood ahead of time...)
This was going to be the great group photo of the trip- only I managed to "kill" it by poking Mauricio in the eyes. I though he was giving me horns but he had actually leaned his head on top of mine. Afterwards he gave me a big lecture about using my five senses; a speech which my nieces found endless opportunities to repeat back to him. It became a pretty big joke. I still feel bad- but can't help cracking up at how awful the photo is.
Friday, November 2, 2007
illustration
Since I haven't put up any art since the show announcement I'm posting an illustration I just finished. It is for a flaunt article on bio-diesel and its celebrity promoters. I wish I could do more stuff like this, since it let me research a bunch of stuff I am interested in and paint something that I almost might have painted anyways.
