Life changes have left me away from my precious outings. I am getting married, folks, which means some of my explorations are thwarted by being put on hold with a caterer.
Some interestingness:
*Inspired Women of Los Angeles is having an art show I hope to trample into soon.
*Jodorowsky. Need I say more?
*Food project: Kosherwalk 2014. Details to follow. Delicious, delicious details.
I'm sorry I'm a bit preoccupied with flowers and taffeta, but don't worry. All the cakes and bells won't tear me away from the creative underbelly of Los Angeles.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
I went to a (probably) illegal opera in a secret location that made me change my mind about boulders
"Are you the type of person who has both Tom Waits and Steve Reich on your playlist?" I cleverly thought to myself, pre-emptively mind-blogging during the first half of the show. You can't blame me. Following my LA Sonar to a random block in the warehouse/ manufacturing/ sadness-stripper district of Downtown LA to a completely transformed warehouse turned arthouse was too novel to allow for immediate suspension of disbelief.
Like being in a dream, we watched the actors shift in and out of a sandbox, but not a messy sandbox. It may have been a "junkyard opera," but it wasn't haphazard. The music, too, was accessibly complex. Some songs were fun and even broadway-esque, others more like a John Adams/ Sondheim collaboration. Some were even funny. I laughed at Cerberus that was a stickler for rules. I sat and watched precise blocking and choreography with live accompaniment in this strange environment. It struck me as odd that these total outsiders were doing what we all thought we'd do once we got to LA: they were taking advantage of the Wild West maze of decrepit buildings and staging illegalish art events. "How did you pull this off?" the locals asked the woman at the door. "We rented it on craigslist."
It wasn't until Orpheus got to Hell that I really snapped out of patting myself on the back for my assured future cleverness and started really wondering if he was going to snatch his blonde bride out of there. We all love the ancient Greek Hell because we know that Hades, like all Greek gods, can be pleaded with or tricked. A lovable villain, he charmingly appears here as a sort of Nietzche's-bureaucratic-brother. For a musical that is whimsical and pretty and dreamy, there were moments of bite and wisdom. Orpheus is urged to look at death from another perspective. From one angle, there's the terror of the finite, tilt your head and the same thing appears to be peaceful endlessness. I was touched by Persephone in a genuine way, who had clearly reached a level of understanding about death that Orpheus was too naive and Hades was too jaded to grasp. Just a novelty this opera was not, although I'm sure most of the buzz will be on the novel aspects.
Even the cliches in my mind about Sisyphus shifted. Maybe it's not so bad that he does this task over and over again, that mankind itself is doomed to repeat its struggles. Isn't there some kind of beauty in the cycle? In the struggle itself? I mean, what else is he going to do with that rock?
There you have it, folks. The underground art scene is high brow these days. But then again, a decade ago, I was writing papers about LA's own Bukowski being elevated to the mainstream canon. Low to high, high to low, Opera to Warehouse, direct to you. If you ask me, these guys are doing LA right.
Like being in a dream, we watched the actors shift in and out of a sandbox, but not a messy sandbox. It may have been a "junkyard opera," but it wasn't haphazard. The music, too, was accessibly complex. Some songs were fun and even broadway-esque, others more like a John Adams/ Sondheim collaboration. Some were even funny. I laughed at Cerberus that was a stickler for rules. I sat and watched precise blocking and choreography with live accompaniment in this strange environment. It struck me as odd that these total outsiders were doing what we all thought we'd do once we got to LA: they were taking advantage of the Wild West maze of decrepit buildings and staging illegalish art events. "How did you pull this off?" the locals asked the woman at the door. "We rented it on craigslist."
It wasn't until Orpheus got to Hell that I really snapped out of patting myself on the back for my assured future cleverness and started really wondering if he was going to snatch his blonde bride out of there. We all love the ancient Greek Hell because we know that Hades, like all Greek gods, can be pleaded with or tricked. A lovable villain, he charmingly appears here as a sort of Nietzche's-bureaucratic-brother. For a musical that is whimsical and pretty and dreamy, there were moments of bite and wisdom. Orpheus is urged to look at death from another perspective. From one angle, there's the terror of the finite, tilt your head and the same thing appears to be peaceful endlessness. I was touched by Persephone in a genuine way, who had clearly reached a level of understanding about death that Orpheus was too naive and Hades was too jaded to grasp. Just a novelty this opera was not, although I'm sure most of the buzz will be on the novel aspects.
Even the cliches in my mind about Sisyphus shifted. Maybe it's not so bad that he does this task over and over again, that mankind itself is doomed to repeat its struggles. Isn't there some kind of beauty in the cycle? In the struggle itself? I mean, what else is he going to do with that rock?
There you have it, folks. The underground art scene is high brow these days. But then again, a decade ago, I was writing papers about LA's own Bukowski being elevated to the mainstream canon. Low to high, high to low, Opera to Warehouse, direct to you. If you ask me, these guys are doing LA right.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Things To Do
* climb the stairs in the Cecil Hotel
* count the number of manifestations of Pilates that exist in LA
* walk from here to downtown, shoot photos of strange miniature mannequins
* scream every time a dream dies
* do "inner soul" caricatures at Venice Beach boardwalk
* offer Pet Paw Readings/ Pet Tarot and see if anyone bites
* count the number of manifestations of Pilates that exist in LA
* walk from here to downtown, shoot photos of strange miniature mannequins
* scream every time a dream dies
* do "inner soul" caricatures at Venice Beach boardwalk
* offer Pet Paw Readings/ Pet Tarot and see if anyone bites
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
clothespins on the face
I don't know about you, but Wednesday Night is the night I usually cry and scream into a bucket.
I feel defeated-- money defeated. That feeling like I'm sucking more out of the world than I'm putting into it because I can't afford the most basic parts of my existence, despite the fact that I appear to be tall and wearing shoes.
There's only one thing to do: go see Armenian Comedian this Friday. I need to remember that weirdos are still here and they're still not homeless.
At The Mint at this holiest of Shabbats. Be there with your lavosh.
http://kroq.cbslocal.com/tag/sam-the-armenian-comedian/
I feel defeated-- money defeated. That feeling like I'm sucking more out of the world than I'm putting into it because I can't afford the most basic parts of my existence, despite the fact that I appear to be tall and wearing shoes.
There's only one thing to do: go see Armenian Comedian this Friday. I need to remember that weirdos are still here and they're still not homeless.
At The Mint at this holiest of Shabbats. Be there with your lavosh.
http://kroq.cbslocal.com/tag/sam-the-armenian-comedian/
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Who Is Dorian Wood?
It's an egotistical venture to proclaim someone else a genius; inherent is the implication that I, Pam, have the knowledge necessary to weed out the genius from the everyday. However, despite my crippling self doubt, I am confident in my ability to call out the geniuses, and so I begin with Dorian.
The first time I met him, I was talking about bees. He'd mentioned that he admired them and that if we were all bees we'd "never leave each other" and would be compelled to work toward the greater good of the community. It wasn't his insight per se but his ability to put his thumb on the zeitgeist; for weeks I'd been wiping my cheek about my own isolation and he'd been able to understand what I was going through simply based on my choice of conversational insect.
Saturday March 22 I had the pleasure to see him at Human Resources, an art gallery in Chinatown, with a gorgeous chamber orchestra. Dorian Wood is hard to categorize because he doesn't chase categorization. Rather than figuring out an easy way to brand/ market himself, he chases quality and that otherworldly transcendence that real art can provide.
What every performance does have in common, however, is a "religious" experience. Like a preacher leading his congregation, Dorian's music can send chills down the spine as he contemplates the guts, blood, mess and gore that necessarily come with atonement, apocalypse, faith, love, and everything else we want to ascend to.
Keep an eye out for future performances. Seeing Dorian Wood is a prerequisite for Angelinos on the lookout for emerging experimental artists.
http://www.dorianwood.com/
The first time I met him, I was talking about bees. He'd mentioned that he admired them and that if we were all bees we'd "never leave each other" and would be compelled to work toward the greater good of the community. It wasn't his insight per se but his ability to put his thumb on the zeitgeist; for weeks I'd been wiping my cheek about my own isolation and he'd been able to understand what I was going through simply based on my choice of conversational insect.
Saturday March 22 I had the pleasure to see him at Human Resources, an art gallery in Chinatown, with a gorgeous chamber orchestra. Dorian Wood is hard to categorize because he doesn't chase categorization. Rather than figuring out an easy way to brand/ market himself, he chases quality and that otherworldly transcendence that real art can provide.
What every performance does have in common, however, is a "religious" experience. Like a preacher leading his congregation, Dorian's music can send chills down the spine as he contemplates the guts, blood, mess and gore that necessarily come with atonement, apocalypse, faith, love, and everything else we want to ascend to.
Keep an eye out for future performances. Seeing Dorian Wood is a prerequisite for Angelinos on the lookout for emerging experimental artists.
http://www.dorianwood.com/
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