Erasing the "Huh?" from Abstract Art

I recently visited the MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art) for the first time and loved it. If you go, go to the downtown location on Grand Ave. The MOCA has two other locations in L.A. besides the one on Grand - one is currently closed, and the other one is in WeHo next to the Pacific Design Center.


The WeHo one is free but it only has one small room that at this time has only one large piece of art (seen below).


I was ready to go in about 2 minutes, but my Dad sat and stared at it for at least thirty. It was actually quite cute - he would look at it with a very pensive look on his face, scanning it as if doing some sort of mathematical equation in his head.

After that, we headed over to the one downtown. Below is the sculpture they have out front, made from the parts of planes and other industrial things.



The exhibit inside was great - they have a temporary exhibit from one artist and a more permanent collection from several different ones. The best part was the tour we went on for the temporary exhibit - it really gave us a perspective on how to look at the art and what ideas the artist was exploring with his work. What I learned most from the tour was learning how to appreciate art as an experience and not necessarily as an intellectual exercise.

For example, when looking at a Jackson Pollock (the guy who dribbles paint on a canvas), don't necessarily think "What does this mean? What is the artist trying to say?" Look at it and feel something - the passion, the energy, the movement. The way the artist seems to erase all barriers between himself and his work - his experience painting it becomes what we see in the work. Of course, there's more to his notoriety in terms of doing something groundbreaking in the history of art, but I think the art should be more than just something "never done before." I think what matters is how I feel when I look at it, and any art class I've taken has always shied away from teaching that. I understand that you can't tell me what to feel, but it helps to be guided through the process by which we can discover what we feel, other than a simple - "Huh?"

When the process of looking at art starts to become an exploration of an experience, taking an idea and playing with it, being delighted by it, surprised, amused, entertained, or curious, it begins to resonate for me. As with the pottery exhibit in the picture above, I looked at it and just saw pottery - my Dad had an experience. Just as I started to have an experience as I explored an exhibit downtown that was comprised of glass, mirrors, and reflections - it's as if you start rediscovering and looking at the world as a child - everything is new and different. And when I go back to the MOCA I will be sure to take a tour of a new exhibit to gain some more perspective on the whole thing.

HOLLYWOOD Land

Last week I did a small video shoot up in the hills near the Hollywood sign. It was an interview for Environment California, and we wanted a nice view of the trees and hills. While it's illegal to hike to the sign, you can get fairly close, and there's a nice view from the top.





Some interesting facts about the sign, compliments of wikipedia -

- Originally constructed in 1923 out of wood, it was so badly deteriorated by 1978 that all the letters were replaced with white-painted steel; at that time, each letter cost $27,777 to replace, which was half the amount of an average-priced house.

- Nine people donated money for the restoration, with each person being connected to a letter. Gene Autry is the second L, Hugh Hefner is the Y, Andy Williams is the W, Alice Cooper (in memory of Groucho Marx) is the third O.

-The original sign was put up for sale on eBay in 2005 (although I don't know what it sold for)

- A motion sensor and closed circuit cameras were installed in 2000, and notifies the police of any movement within 50 yards

- The shape of the hills give it its wavy appearance, but when observed at a comparable altitude, the letters appear straight-across

I Love L.A...?

My mom tells me that my dad thinks/hopes I will one day move to live near them and my sister's family in Missouri (they moved to the mid-west from CA after I went to college). She's tried to talk some sense into him, but he tells her to keep an open mind about it. Not that he's ever mentioned it to me, and he probably knows better than to even try. No offense to anyone in Missouri because I do know several cool people that live there and I'm sure they're happy. But everytime my mom tells me this (and it's been at least twice), I think - REALLY?? SERIOUSLY???

OK, so it's sweet. It's sweet to want to have the family all live near each other. But my family does not live near a city like Kansas City or St. Louis, but rather near the Arkansas border and a notorious little place called Branson, which is like Vegas without the gambling, booze, and titties (uh, so what's Vegas without the gambling, booze, and titties? Riiiiight... Think "good clean fun" with lots of fiddles, corny jokes, and patriotism).

Not to sound like a snob, but there are few places that could begin to satisfy me socially, culturally, and professionally. Even here, with everything this city offers, I have yet to fall in love - really fall in love with Los Angeles. I've lived here for 6 non-consecutive years (4 and then 2), but I still think it can one day happen.

Lately I have found myself thinking that I'm really lucky to live here, and that there are not many places in the world where I can do or see ____. Case in point. I recently joined a radical spirituality group. And it's...radical. Last time we met, a body artist came to share with us his experiences on the intersection between pain, ritual, and spirituality. Then with several candles lit and a couple of people drumming on some bongos, he carved a flower design with a scalpel into a woman's back. "Do they numb the back first?" my Mom asked me. "No, Mom - that's the point. Using pain and ritual as a transformative process. A spiritual transendence." OK, so I don't expect everyone to get it. But that's the point; there's enough people in L.A. who do, and who can come together and support such an endeavor.

My mom and I were walking near my apartment during this "Why I will not move to Missouri" conversation. "You see that building over there?" I pointed out to her. "That's the Writer's Guild of America. I live two blocks from the Writer's Guild. On Thursday they're having a panel on GLBT projects in Hollywood. Where else in the world could I go to such a thing?"

The panel was called "Gay Today in Hollywood: A Status Report." Writers, producers, and agents, most of them from the GLBT community, spoke on the panel. The highlight for me was Dustin Lance Black (Academy Award-winning writer from Milk), and hearing him talk about getting his project made. He shopped his script around for a long time, hearing "no" after "no" after "no." Then someone said "Maybe this could be a TV movie..." and it was Mr. Black's turn to say "no." He held on to his script until he was sure that it was in the right hands. He knew how great the movie could be and how much impact it could have. So he waited, held onto his idealism, and it paid off.

Another person on the panel was Liz Feldman, who writes for the Ellen Show. She's currently shopping around a sitcom with a lesbian lead. She's also gotten a lot of "no"s, but she told us that she's committed to sticking with the project until it gets picked up.

I found the panel inspiring to go to. This city, with everything it offers, can be a very inspiring place to live. There is so much to be found, if you look hard enough and if you know what you're looking for. I don't know if I will live here forever. I do have fantasies of moving (mostly because my curiosity loves to contemplate new territory). But as far as I know, it's the closest thing I've ever really found to begin to call home.