Modern Art Still Sucks

If there's one thing the government shutdown has taught me it is this: MODERN ART STILL SUCKS!  The connection isn't intuitively obvious so let me lay this thing out.

As I often do when I'm in Marin County, I made a point to drive up Conzelman road in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area (GGNRA) known as the Marin Headlands.  This road is about a 3 mile climb that allows various overlook points of the golden gate bridge.  It's a gorgeous drive and it never gets old.  As I approached the bottom of the road I could see steel barriers blocking the route.  This isn't uncommon because the road has been under construction for about a year and it's been closed at different times during that period, but I was suspicious because I couldn't see the tell-tale signs of bright orange construction vests milling about.  I drove up to the barriers and sure as shit there was a sign taped to the barrier telling me it was closed due to the government shutdown.  "This is a PAIN IN THE ASS!! (PITA),  I screamed in my head and symbolically shook my fist like an 80 year old. And a bunch of bullshit too....I later added meekly, because it seemed appropriate. 

 By the way, in addition to learning that MODERN ART STILL SUCKS (more on that later), I also learned this about the government shutdown:  It was nothing more than a bunch of meat helmets finding various petty ways to show each other their middle finger after not getting what they wanted.  I'm not sure who the culprits are in the Conzelman road case, but somebody was giving the double bird business to somebody else.  Here's how I know it's true:

The Golden Gate National Recreation Area includes vast amounts of lands located around the San Francisco and Marin County area and includes the Marin Headlands (Conzelman Road) and Point Bonita Lighthouse.  Miles and miles of road run through the area, but only the  2-3 mile stretch of road that gives access to the most breathtaking views of one of the most treasured architectural creations in the world was closed.  This road isn't manned, there is no ranger station, and there is absolutely no employee required for this section to operate.   I drove around the backside to check on things and I had access to the lighthouse and the beach.  There was no other road closed.  Cue the middle finger.

"When viewed from either side, the sculpture frames the landscape almost like an oversized picture frame. When viewed from either end, however, the work is a study in formal complexity..."

Now that I was good and pissed, I decided to cross the bridge and check on Crissy Field (part of the GGNRA) on the San Francisco side and see if access to the grounds were also blocked.  Much to my relief the entire area was open.  I pulled out my camera to snap some shots of the bridge and.......... WHY THE HELL ARE THERE D-DAY TANK OBSTACLES BLOCKING MY VIEW OF THE BRIDGE??  Maybe these abominations are twisted metal used from the 911 rubble to honor the victims, I thought.  They're blocking my view, but I'm alright with it in this scenario.  I hurried my way over to the placards to read about the inspiration for and the haunting history of these beasts.

The first one I walked up to was "Magma".   I knew it would be a tough to read so I steeled myself and began.

"Magma, a recently completed work that has never been shown publicly, continues di suvero's exploration of motion and counterbalance. Its composition is dominated by a horizontal I-beam that is balanced between two X-like steel forms. The cut steel rings that encircle the beam are movable rather than structural, and respond to shifts in the wind. When viewed from either side, the sculpture frames the landscape almost like an oversized picture frame.  When viewed from either end, however, the work is a study in formal complexity, its angles, discs, and lines resemble intricate, interlocking layers."

I didn't make that up, I promise.  No honor or meaning to the structure, just another jumbled mass of nothingness passed off as modern art, blocking my view of the golden gate bridge.  

Just in case  I wasn't giving the "art" its due, I decided to use Magma "like an oversized picture frame" for the truly beautiful golden gate bridge.  What do you think?

"This exuberant gesture, which echoes the expressive possibility suggested in much of di Suvero's art, is here reinforced by the work's title: Huru is anAustralian aboriginal word that means both 'hello' and 'goodbye'".

"When the sculpture was  exhibited outside the Alameda County Courthouse in Oakland in 1974 it was highly controversial, and was ultimately removed".

"In the context of the work's delicately balanced asymmetry, the buoy reads as a nautical reference and as a guide..."

I tried to use some of the other sculptures to frame the bridge.  Alas, they all sucked, confirming my belief that the descriptions are pure crap.  I have to admit I enjoy reading the descriptions of the artwork because they are so disengaged from the actual art as to be ridiculous.  Surely these things are written after the fact to justify the time and effort. There's no way the artist started with the description and then created the structure.  To be fair to Mark Di Suvero, these sculptures would probably look great displayed in front of some modern buildings in downtown San Francisco.  The curator, however, decided to create a scrap metal recycling yard in front of one of the most recognizable and beautiful structures in the world and pass it off as art.  I can't prove it, but my theory is this:  The curator is a federal employee working in D.C. (senator?) who coordinated his "middle finger" gesture with the dude from Conzelman road by putting these heaps in front of the Golden Gate Bridge.  "Delicately balanced symmetry", as it were. 

  I crossed back over the bridge I stopped again on the Marin side to eat my lunch and was relieved to come across the site below.  Real modern art needs no description.

Taken from the other side of the water immediately after.

Ayahuasca In Santa Barbara

An ayahuasca vision.

I'd never heard of ayahuasca until we showed up at the vacation house in Santa Barbara.  Gavin, the owner, greeted us, helped us with our bags, and proceeded to tell us his wife was in L.A. doing an 

ayahuasca ceremony with a group of others including a shaman.  It's best not to do these ceremonies without a shaman lest bad spirits infect the process.  Gavin told us he did it once and saw a city and then shit his pants.  It wasn't from fear, but rather from a natural side effect of drinking ayahuasca.  Apparently you purge from both ends.  I made a mental note to take a portrait of this character, but I didn't want to bother him at that moment, plus I didn't have my gear set up.  What a stupid mistake that turned out to be.  The next day, while tending to his rugged landscape, he moved a small rock, which dislodged a sizable boulder, which landed on him and broke his femur, thus destroying my portrait dreams.  Note to self:  Take the damn picture!  That goes for everything else.  Stop waiting to do what it is you want to do.  Tomorrow you may be lying on the ground, with an immovable boulder pinning you down while you scream in vain for medical attention while the young whippersnappers are out merrily tasting wine.  At least that's how we heard it went down.  This from the mysterious neighbor with an accent, who rides horses through the national forest with his two dogs in tow.  He also told us Joe Cocker lived over there, Jane Fonda owned the horse ranch over there, and this area (Padres National Forest) is a big, bohemian enclave.  What's the point of all this?  Make sure to use airbnb.com when making vacation arrangements, of course.

Nikki observing heaven.

Decks overlooking heaven.

Hang out room.  Look to the the left and you see heaven.

Center piece.  Look to the right and you see heaven.

 This is the second time we've used this service and it totally changes the vacation experience.  Instead of going to a protein infested hotel room at 6:00, you get to sit and relax with friends and grill your own food.  No tipping, no bad service, and not any more expensive than two hotel rooms would be for two couples.   Both of the houses have been cozy, clean, and peaceful.  This one in Santa Barbara was otherworldly.  We were literally above the clouds.  The marine layer rolled in every morning and was at least several hundred feet below us.  It looked like heaven.  The inside of this house looked exactly like you would expect from someone who engages in ayahuasca ceremonies.  And we loved it.  So far, both owners have been very artsy and bohemian and extremely interesting.  Gavin is a scrabble expert, and Josie has her own traveling, one woman show.

Wooden deer head on the wall.

Multi-Disciplinary prayer thingy on the wall.  I prayed to several of them, to no avail.

Will and Jen

Nikki surrounded by a lot of crazy art books about dead people and ghosts (from what I could tell).

A side benefit of the place is that there were numerous large windows letting in tons of natural light, which was perfect for taking portraits (assuming of course you take the damn portrait before some tragic, life altering event befalls the subject).

This represents the photo I didn't take of the owner.

One of the main reasons we decided to go to Santa Barbara was to do some wine tasting in the Santa Ynez valley.  That decision, of course, was majorly influenced by a cinematic gem called "Sideways".   The lines from that movie reverberate in my head on a daily basis because of my proximity to wine country.  Every time I smell a wine, it's "oakey", then I ask myself, “when do we drink it”.

Before we set out on the first day, we made a pact that we wouldn't use any of the movie lines with the servers.  That would be too douchey and touristy.  We found the main winery road on a map and headed out with no set plan.  The first place we passed is Andrew Murray, which appears in the movie.   We immediately head in, movie line pact firmly in place.  No sooner do we belly up to the serving table than "Maya" walks over and start pouring wine.  I'm serious, check the photo.  Not only does she look like her, but her mannerisms and speech pattern are eerily the same.  I had to do a quick look around the room to make sure nobody was messing with us.  I was waiting for the candid camera (holy shit I'm old.  That's an old reference.  There have been 15 iterations of that show since then) crew to roll out.  It was only after we left that we all agreed the experience was surreal.

"Andrew Murray, well alright" - Miles (Dammit, I used a line).

Maya's clone.

Will and Jen

Us not using any lines from "Sideways".

Sanford Winery. There's no shortage of rusty green trucks in wine country.

We spent the next day touring the main Santa Barbara area, including the mission and pier area.  

My favorite part was the propoganda historical short film about the mission and the converting of the local Chumash indians.  According to the film the locals LOVED the benevolent and merciful teachings of these kind Spaniards and were thankful to be blessed so richly.   Nobody was publicly beheaded and ridiculed for refusing the new and foreign teachings.  They eagerly rushed to the steps of the mission with babies in tow to receive the new covenants.  It was strange, though, that the Chumash all ended up being manual "skilled" brick laborers for the Spaniards while the Spanish stonemason was paid to teach them.

The rest of the day was eating and sightseeing and then we got to return to the house and cook, drink wine, and talk with good friends.  Pure heaven.

What do Skull and Crossbones on a Catholic Church mean?

Sidewalk art at the Mission. Nikki's favorite.  I have no idea why this has anything to do with a mission.

Rider and Dog on the Santa Barbara Pier.

Palm trees.  No shit.

The owner of a small restaurant where Will and I stopped in to have a beer.  He appears to be the epitome of what an Irish man should look like.  His daughter was mean as a snake.

A dog in the public restroom.  His owner was 12 hours post-ayahuasca.  Either that or taco bell.

Our Legacy

"I like playing music, it makes me feel relevant, like I matter".  My dad spoke these words to me when I thanked him for playing on my birthday, he on his guitar and me on my new cajon.  I haven't been able to get them out of my head ever since.  My dad was a full time entertainer in my early years, so listening to him play is as comfortable a feeling as I know.   Eventually he moved on to writing and became a successful journalist, but I don't think I fully understood how much music meant to him until he said those words.  It's his legacy.  We all want to feel like we have an impact while we're living, and especially after we're gone.

This Christmas has been a time of reflection for me.  A reflection on legacy, of people that have passed, and what it means to be amongst others and have an impact.  My mother's memory has weighed heavily on my mind as this year marks a milestone for me:  She has been gone for as long as I knew her (21 years).  I've done the math in my head for several years and knew it was coming, but I was always able to banish it to the hinterlands of my mind because it hadn't arrived yet.  This year it smacked me square in the face and reminded me how relentless the march of time is.  Surprisingly, it had a positive effect on me.

My mom loved Christmas and the most tangible artifact we have are her ornaments .  Some were hand-made made and others had been in the family for years.  All of them were an integral part of our Christmas trees as kids and after she died it was difficult to see them.  My sister had them for awhile and then she gave them to Nikki and I.  We've had them on our trees since 1995.  I felt a strong desire to document them before they disintegrated or were damaged.  I made a photo book and gave copies to my dad and sister.  We looked through the book and cried a lot, but it was positive.   The amount of time that had passed healed the hurt enough. I felt like it was the first time we could openly discuss her memory and talk about the the things she loved.  Before, we simply couldn't speak about it. We talked about her love of Christmas and the things we remember about her.  We talked about her legacy.  She was incredibly strong, loving, generous, and loyal.  I don't think I realized the depth of her strength until recently.  Time gives you that perspective.

A hand-made ornament from my mom

A family favorite, it's been around for at least 40 years.

My grandma Pacheco was able to visit us again this Christmas.  I've written about her before here. When I dropped her off at the train station I couldn't resist taking the shot below.  She needs assistance now, but she remains extremely tough.  She's 87 and she hopped on a train by herself from Grand Junction, Colorado and rode 22 hours to see us.   She lived through the depression, then WWII, then forged a life after that and raised three kids.  I fear we Americans aren't as tough anymore.  I suppose the times dictate much of that, and we don't struggle for anything now.  She's tough and she has a tremendous work ethic and she has character.  That's her legacy.

Before she left she gave me one of my grandfather's pocket knives.  She estimates he got it in the 1970's and carried it with him every day until he died.  It's scratched, rusted, and weathered, and it's perfect.  I'll keep it in a safe place and look at it from time to time to think about the legacy of the man who owned it.  He fought in WWII aboard the USS Oakland.  He was a part of the "Greatest Generation".  He was strong, patriotic, funny, and he had an incredible work ethic that puts me to shame. That's his legacy.

And so we arrive at the obvious question:  What is my legacy?  The troubling fact is that I don't know what it is.  I don't have kids, so there's no obvious answer in that regard.  Perhaps that is for other people to decide.  I know for sure, though, that my parents legacy lives on through me.  The person I am and the things I love came from them.  I feel them every day in the decisions I make and the way I interact with people.  My mom's strength is always with me, and although he doesn't play music as much, my dad's song still plays in my head every day.  It's important he knows he's still relevant in this man's eyes.