Pasadena Chalk Festival 2009

I generally dread summer heat. This year I didn’t bother. Why dread it when it is inevitable? Why waste a good, cool spring dreading the white sky and hot temps of Southern California?

2009 Best in Festival, 1st Place – Mucha by Arlou Somo

If you’ve never been, the Pasadena Chalk Festival is a lovely event. Taking decent photographs of the artwork is nearly impossible, because even if you get up high enough you’re still at an angle. You’d have to be suspended over the sidewalk to get a really good shot. But never mind, lots of us took lots of photos anyway. Even the UK’s Telegraph!

I like going toward the end of the event, when the art has been completed and the artists are sitting around, covered in chalk. Some of them have that zombie look, like they’ve just pulled an all-nighter and they can’t quite believe they made it through.

Since taking a decent photograph of a whole work was not possible, I focused on details (text above added by me).

2009 Best in Festival, 2nd Place – Green Dame by Eric Sisley

Pasadena’s very own PIO was on hand. During the awards ceremony, she said lovely things about public art, about how the Chalk Festival is impermanent public art—much like a live performance, or improv, or the GuerilLA folks who do site-specific improv.

What is the relationship between art and permanence? I think of the Mona Lisa, hanging there in the Louvre. She’s the epitome of western art world permanence, no? But we can’t be with her all the time. Whether we’ve seen her in person or not, she lives in our minds, hearts, memories.

2009 Paseo Colorado’s People’s Choice – Let It Be by Shuji Nishimura

Music is another art form we carry around in our heads.  I like having an internal jukebox, even if the record gets stuck on one song (or part thereof) during a bout of insomnia.

I’m glad I went to the Chalk Festival—happy to have those images to carry with me.

Fussing and Fighting, My Friend

This is the post you’ve been waiting for.

I have bad news. We are all racists.

I know, I know. You don’t want to be a racist (I don’t either). You think it is despicable to demean the humanity of another person, or to think of an entire group of people as inferior. Or perhaps you are a member of a group that has been victimized by another group, and you carry hate inside you, even though you don’t want to.

You Do Not Have…

…because you do not ask.

Well, I’m here to ask. I’m asking you to make a small any size financial donation to help my friend A.

I will accept a yes or a no.

Here’s why you might want to say yes: You will be directly assisting a strong, hard-working woman with her goal of keeping her children occupied this summer. She’s got them signed up to go to El Centro de Accion Social’s Summer School in the Park program.

It costs $100 per kid, and she’s got 3 kids who are the right age for the program (the youngest is too young, and believe me, that bugs her).  So the goal is to raise $300 by July 4.

There are two ways to give:

1. You can give your donation to me via Chip In. (WordPress.com doesn’t allow the widgit, so please use the link.)

2. If you want a win-win with the US Government, you can make a tax-deductible donation to Church of the Angels:

Church of the Angels
Attn: Summer School in the Park
1100 N. Avenue 64
Pasadena, CA 91105

Be sure to include your name and address so we can send you a receipt.

The fun thing about giving is that no donation is too small. Do what you can. Thank you.

I‘m thrilled to report that two generous souls have already contributed a total of $60! Only $240 to go! Yay for generous souls.

Health Care Reform

1. I don’t know if you’ve been on the bus lately, but I have. There are a lot of crazy people on the bus. Oh, I get it…that’s why you haven’t been on the bus lately. You went on the bus that one time and encountered the crazy people and you haven’t been back.

Found Poem at the DMV

Best when read aloud. Insert your own vowels to suit.

My Trip to Vegas: Part 3

First, a tamale alert for fellow Angelenos: Adela is selling her fabulous homemade tamales on Tuesday, June 2 and Wednesday, June 3. Place your order by calling 323-691-0073.

Back to Vegas: Somehow I want to respect the ‘achievements’ of Las Vegas (big, bigger, biggest), but I’m so bugged by the architecture that I can’t.

To wit:

Took this out of the car window, car moving. Something about that building strikes me as foreboding. It’s so tall, so not proportional, so contemporary federalist on acid.

My Trip to Vegas: Part 2

I got caught up with the idea that the only way people can interact with a place like Las Vegas (or the Bellagio) is through a camera, so I took pictures of people taking pictures of people.

The camera is also the way people interact with each other. There’s a lot of bossing around involved: “Stand over there!” “Smile!” “Johnny! Quit making that ridiculous face!”

Why is it that so many of us are compelled to record our outings? The camera records the experience, but the very act of having a camera in your hand while having the experience changes the experience.

Do you find there’s a difference between being in a place with a camera vs being in a place without it? I like to take pictures, but I also like to go to a place, say, the Acropolis or something, and just be there. You know, feel the ancient vibes.

The vibe in Vegas is weird because the place ate its own history. Old Vegas is gone, and new mega-Vegas with its monstrously large hotels is here to stay. You can read about the tiny shreds of Old Vegas still intact here (appropriately called the “Nostalgia Tour”).

What he saw through his lens (from my angle):

A couple who truly look happy.

This actually may be THE hand that the Beatles wanted to hold.

Only in Vegas? Especially in Vegas!

We did the buffet thing. The Scout generally beelines for the prime rib, then mixes straight horseradish with creamy horseradish to go with it. His sinuses enjoy the experience.

In the last couple of trips to Vegas, we’ve tried the buffets at the Mirage, Planet Hollywood, the Bellagio, and Mandalay Bay. So far, the Mirage wins for best overall quality. Plus, you get to see their 20,000 gallon saltwater aquarium, which is an awesome Vegas freebie.

The Bellagio’s buffet serves champagne in wine glasses. We managed to arrive the end of the brunch session, and watched them bring out the dinner stuff. The Scout had a crab leg for desert. Vegas!

To be continued…

My Trip to Vegas: Part 1

Lakenheath High School

I’m interrupting my Vegas series because I just found this photo over at the Lakenheath ning site.

Lakenheath High School, ca. 1977. This is what my high school looked like, people! (Same photo but bigger, better here.)

Kathy Soden Grant posted this photo with the caption: “The Smoking Area – Can anyone tell me how we got a smoking area?” I supposed we had a smoking area at school because we were all given ration cards to buy cigarettes when we turned 16…just another iteration of the relationship between the military and the cigarette industry. Of course, most of us dabbled in smoking cigarettes or became outright addicted long before turning 16.

I gave up smoking when I was 14 because Kevin Foley didn’t like it. It didn’t help with my relationship with Kevin, but I’m a happy non-smoker to this day.

I do believe that Phil Mason is the guy on the left (in the letter jacket) walking toward the camera. And to the right–the center person in the group of 3–Peggy Gralish?

Ahem. Pardon my nostalgia. I have a clinically certifiable case.

My Trip to Vegas: Part 1

The Scout worked in Las Vegas over the weekend (Lexus commercials), and I went along. He shot photos of the Super Arterial (love that name).

Looking west. Photo by The Scout. Reminiscent of OJ’s slow-speed chase. Gosh, was that really 15 years ago (or almost – June 17, 1994)? Happy 15th Anniversary, OJ! I don’t feel sorry for you! You’ve had a great life! (Wikipedia article.)

I drove while The Scout crawled in the back seat and took photos out of the back and side windows of the car. This made me feel somewhat useful…well, for the five minutes or so that the Super Arterial location was going to be used. It has now been axed from the spot. “They also serve who only stand and wait.”

The Scout doesn’t much care for Vegas, and I suppose I don’t either except I have a horrible penchant for kitsch. It goes from old neon (the arty end) to…to…to…Oh, I don’t know what to —probably because I suppress my inner kitsch-lover fearing the wrath of the ‘truly arty’—when I should be defining the fine line between the good kitsch and the bad kitsch, so I can defend myself against haughty minimalists.

Detail of the exterior of Planet Hollywood. Photo by me.

In my effort to understand the allure of Las Vegas, I find myself at The Bellagio. Look! It’s the happy couple!

One senses great forces of sadness and evil have brought this couple together (parents?). Or is he simply upset about the pink vest and tie?  Never mind…the picture taking must go on!

And on!

And on…

Dear Bellagio, Please move the cherry picker away from the happy couple!  You don’t want to ruin their special day, do you?

To be continued…

Photo Friday

Blah, blah, blah. I’ve got too much work to blog properly, but I owe you an update. My friend A is doing well, though she will never return to her doctor again (she’ll get a new one). Sample conversation with Doc prior to recent surgery:

A: But I’m still having pain—something isn’t right.

Doc: Oh, everything is fine. You’ll be fine.

A: But I don’t feel well. The pain comes and goes, and sometimes I’m nauseous.

Doc: Don’t you know how many of these surgeries I’ve done? You’re fine.

A’s ovary had become engorged with blood and she had a small cyst. So they took out the ovary and the cyst. In a subsequent visit to the ED, the physician there (different guy) told A that they didn’t take out the cyst, but that it is very small. A was (quite understandably) very upset to hear this news, so she jettisoned her doc and has been going to County for her follow-up.

-*-*-*-

It’s the economy, stupid: Today is trash day on my street, and in the 10 minutes that it has taken me to write this, two guys have come by to rifle through our bins. I heard a couple more people earlier—You locals (or anyone with curbside recycling) probably have had the experience of waking up in the early morning light to the sound of your empties clinking their final farewell to you. The last guy had long arms and gloves…essential for reaching down to the bottom where the last two plastic bottles were lurking (tonic water, if you must know).

And now, as promised, the photo (courtesy of The Scout):