strange days

This morning, I survived my first earthquake. It was almost over before I realized what it was....I guess I'm just not hardwired to think "earthquake!" when I hear strange grinding noises or feel a shimmy around me.

I was at the museum for a meeting, and we were in the galleries (at MOCA, these are at least partially underground). The rushing, gravelly sound made me think of the beginning of a hot & bothered summertime thunderstorm back home, when the rain starts hard and sudden out of a black sky. Or maybe the flushing of a giant toilet in a second-storey bathroom in an older house, water whooshing through the pipes. But outside the glass doors of the museum lobby, I could see the streetlights and buildings swaying, and the folks around me knew what to do. We stood in a gallery doorway until security had us move to the official gathering spot in the basement.

Turns out a relatively-new art museum is a pretty good place to be during a quake. It's built like a bunker, reinforced to hold up the artworks as well as to withstand the elements. And I learned that many of the newer high-rise buildings in downtown LA are built on a rolling mechanism, so they ride on the earth like huge boats. M, who works in one of these high-rises down the street, said it felt like being in a Chicago skyscraper on a windy winter day. So no biggie. An hour later, we were all back to work or out to lunch.

But the air vibrated with....strangeness. Downtown workers were out, on the street, talking on the phone, eating take-out, smoking, drinking coffee, and talking on the phone. They were taking it easy, like a Friday afternoon, but in a vigorous, amped-up way. It reminded me of snow days during high school, when we all scrambled to get home before the storm began. A free-for-all, an excuse to be frenzied or giddy, to step outside your normal behavior and do something a little bit uncharacteristic. I noticed this on my drive home as well. Folks walking in the middle of the street, folks who look like their faces don't normally feel the noon-time sun; the coconut juice man's upside down sign; cars running red lights, making left-hand turns into on-coming traffic. We are shaken awake, made a bit bold and crazy.

I was happy to get home and shut the door.

Table for One, Please

My mother is considering a trip to China with her college's alumni group. However, my father doesn't want to go, and this is holding her up. I've been trying to convince her that traveling by oneself can actually be enjoyable, if you're prepared with a good book and a good map. I've been in a few different cities by myself (London, Paris, New York, Munich) and remember having a very different experience from when I was going someplace with a friend.

I was reminded of the pleasures of traveling solo a couple of weeks ago when I went to San Francisco to install some artwork (more about that in a future post). Here's what I noticed:

-I was more adventurous, because I was not able to rely on someone else to figure things out or to make choices. Everything was up to me.
-I treated myself to things I do not do at home, such as hot baths at night, eating lunch out, and drinking coffee whenever I felt like it (also purchased, not made by me).
-I wasn't being rude by reading at the table....after all, I can't talk to myself (not in public, anyway).
-I was more likely to have conversations with strangers.
-My attention was on the world around me, not on a companion. This made me much more observant of the people, architecture, weather, sights, tastes, and sounds around me.
-I could eat exactly what I wanted, even if that meant going to the same restaurant for dinner every single night.
-I felt very free to sit on a park bench, or in bed, or in a cafe, and do absolutely nothing. I realized that I never take the opportunity to do this at home.

Those all seem like compelling arguments to me for giving solo travel a shot. So come on, Mom, give it a try.

diggin' in the dirt

tomorrow morning i head up to san francisco to install some work for a small solo show at The LAB. so in preparation, over the holiday weekend, i gardened (instead of packing, washing clothes, or getting my ducks in a row)!

we have a beautiful backyard spot, but it has some serious gaps in the plant department. i started the greening process by the path up to our front steps, with the help of some succulent cuttings from my mother-in-law and some cactus parts i found around in the neighborhood yard trash. turns out prickly pears are really easy to root.

grow, my pretties! quick, before the landlords come back! :D

We Are All Well and Fine

My first solo show in LA closes a week from tomorrow. It comprises works on paper, two small sheet sculptures, and a large sheet window installation. I feel really proud of all of this work. Go see it if you're in the neighborhood.

We Are All Well and Fine, at LittleBird Gallery, 3195 Glendale Boulevard in Atwater Village. Through July 9.