One Stop: Pain, Joy, Wanderlust

SINK DEEP ENOUGH into Los Angeles and uncanny vibrancy will arrest the mind with outlandish fantasy. Curiosity pulls one deeper into the unforeseen. The depths of this rabbit hole mystify and the marvel of discovery compels one further. Down the quiet Washington corridor of Culver City the stylized neon beam of a Victorian crown welcomes curiosity—the Royal/T presents its guests to the splendor of the L.A. art scene. Culver City’s manga-spliced J-pop anomaly housed “The Never Ending Story: Fairytale, Fantasy, Obsession” exhibit on the fourth. New York-based curator Laura Hoptman designed a space where the mind-altering aesthetics of surrealism, an acid-trance through “Alice in Wonderland”, and the animated silliness of Akihabara culture could legally find its way into the imagination.

Elegant hors d'oeuvres were balanced by tiny Japanese women dressed as French maids who made their precarious rounds through the evening’s frenzy of “wonderland” cos-players and art house junkies. Stylized blank smiles followed trays of unpronounceable French delicacies as they presented themselves to multi-faceted crowds of “Alice” impersonators. Each costume featured a personal Goth sensibility—pale blues, matte-black lace, and death metal eyeshadow accented curious conversations throughout. This mob of steam-punk psychedelia bridged the boundaries between the life in this L.A. art scene and the contorted displays of surrealist abominations decorating the walls.

The old-world class from steam-engine romances was celebrated in the hand-crafted collections of Jared Gold. A corner of the Royal/T was devoted to the designer’s rich composition of contrasting pastels and 19th century luxury. Gold blends history and modern ideals into a signature—his stylish sense of nostalgia seems to recreate the romantic notions of individuality and expression.


Anthropomorphic phantasms from the most primal reaches of Wangechi Mutu’s day-dreams frolic and haunt the walls of the Royal/T. The divine dreariness of a purgatory creates a space of uncomfortable self-reflection in Mutu’s “Your Story, My Curse”. This mixed media cerebral assault invites the psyche to relive past jealousy, lust, obsession, and fruitless romances. It’s a living nightmare that no one wants to leave. Mutu’s color palette is deceiving—brilliant patterns scattered across each figure recall Gustav Klimt’s charm, but their appeal undermines the menacing drama and growing tension running through the canvas.

Susan Hancock has spent the last ten years bringing together a culturally diverse cast of contemporary artists into a respectable collection of eclectic style. She has spent the last five owning and operating the Royal/T as a means of immersing herself deeper into the art world. The pieces of her collection on display at the Royal/T represent the human facets of suffering, vulnerability, wanderlust, joy, pain, and love in a vibrant dreamscape of vivid ferocity. The fortunate wandering souls that make their way into her gallery have the opportunity of traveling through unique visions—those projecting an aura she takes to, may even have their spirit cards read.

This city grows curiouser and curiouser. For those looking to appreciate the space royal-t.org has everything. The show will continue its outlandish parade through August fourth and can be followed on Twitter and Facebook at RoyalTCafe.

-- Jesse Alvarez
(photo credit: jslander, flickr creative commons)

Iconic L.A.: Road, Music & California Love

DRIVING TOWARDS THE beach meant double-sided cassettes spinning verse about “California Love”. Bass-treble gangsta’ anthems that inflated my brother’s bravado as he and his friends took in the babes and waves on either side of that caramel-colored Regal. Gustavo spent these days looking through his rear-view at the chubby mess of bashfulness sitting by the window. In his mind, the over-confident charm he and his friends worked over the sun-soaked girls on each of those trips were actually attempts to mold me. The Aztec gods, Olde English, black and white brown pride engraved on his arms, afternoon rides by the beach, and Tupac’s voice all seemed to influence me—this imagery would prove to shape my sentimentality of Los Angeles, whenever I would acknowledge its claim over my memories.

Tupac as a poet acts as a historian of my time in Los Angeles. His voice has the uncanny ability to surface images and senses that remind me of my first impressions of the city. Growing up I spent most of my time with my older siblings—hanging out, parties, fights, rides and rides and rides all took place within the limits of Manhattan Beach, Inglewood, and Hollywood. Tupac, as well as his friends in the genre Snoop, Ice Cube, Dre all seemed to come together to make a distinctive sound that makes me envision my family at a younger time in their lives. To me, Los Angeles represents my family growing up and driving through it with me. These times shaped my understanding and reinforced their memories with the music that surrounded. It has an aggression that represents the real struggle people face every day in this city, it illustrates the strength that people have developed after dealing with it, but it also reflects the excitement to be had within it.

Take “Dear Mamma” for instance. It reminds me of how my mom would take the bus home from work every day—trying to forget the tension in her soles with each glimpse of L.A. life on the way home. Then there’s artists like Ice Cube who remind me of fights breaking out at barbeques in Inglewood over the stupidest machismo reasoning. A song like “I Get Around” or “How Do You Want It” makes me smile at the thought of laughing with my siblings on the beach. My understanding of what makes Los Angeles L.A. is completely personal. I imagine this to be the case with any local. For my experience, I am left with songs and artists that really represent the impressions that my family created throughout the city. Even though my music taste has grown and developed on its own accord, I still keep these songs dear to my heart because they remind me of myself, my roots, and my relationship to this city.

-- Jesse Alvarez

(photo credits: bixentro, my_tats, didoro flickr photo stream)