Hidden Venice Beach

MY FRIEND THOM moved from Venice Beach to New York a few months ago, and this weekend he was in town to visit my roommate and me. On Friday morning, we were craving a tasty sit-down breakfast but wanted to find a somewhere walking distance to avoid warm weather parking frustration. We thought of all the places on Abbot Kinney Boulevard since it’s the closest street from our apartment, but Thom knew better—he had a secret up his sleeve that would surely meet our breakfast needs.

Without telling us the specifics of where our destination was located, we followed Thom up and down different streets, to an area that seemed more like a residential neighborhood than a restaurant location. But sure enough we turned one last corner and there it was—The Brick House, literally a red brick building with a small patio facing the street. “This place has great breakfast” said Thom as he looked inside and signaled a waitress.

He was right, the food was great and the patio was as sunny and comfortable as could be. There was only one other group seated outside with us; they wore urban-hipster-style duds of plaid prints and skinny jeans - a common style in Venice. They also had a small dog with them, resting underneath the table as they ate. Wearing sunglasses throughout their meal, they talked with one another over coffee and eggs, and had a cigarette before paying the bill and leaving.

As I looked out at the streets surrounding the restaurant, it reminded me of “Hidden Los Angeles” and all the places that exist here that remain unseen or underappreciated. I have lived in Venice for a while now, and I had never even heard of The Brick House, much less had the urge to give it a try.

I ordered the Venice Eggs Benedict, and was completely satisfied with my choice as it contained one of my favorite foods—artichokes. The more I thought about it, the more this restaurant seemed to epitomize what I love about living in Venice Beach. It’s owned by Venice locals, the best way to get there is on foot, and it’s one of those places that must be found, explored and appreciated, unlike the more popular (crowded) trendy restaurants along Abbot Kinney.

Now I find myself wanting to go there more often and take people there who do not know about it already. It’s close, comfortable, and the food really is wonderful—from a wide assortment of omelets and waffles for breakfast, to burgers as pasta dishes for dinner—The Brick House is truly a hidden treasure in Venice Beach.

-- Lauren McHale
(photo credit: lauren mchale)

Los Angeles Loves Coachella

ON APRIL 16, 2010, hundreds of thousands of people flooded the Empire Polo Fields in Indio, CA for the annual Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival. People travel from all over the U.S. to spend three days listening to their favorite bands, DJs, and Indie-Rock performers. Yet this year I realized that Coachella has increasingly become a festival where Angelinos escape the day-to-day dreariness of city life and run around a field for three days as if their professional lives are a thing of the past.

Every friend of mine in Los Angeles goes to Coachella, with the exception of maybe one or two. During the days leading up to the event, LMU buzzes with excitement and anticipation to get out of the city for the weekend of the year. “Are you excited for Coachella?” is never an easy question to answer. Most replies consist of ear-to-ear grins and uncontrollable laughter as Coachella-goers fantasize about the fun about to ensue. It’s difficult to concentrate at school or work for any Angeleno preparing for Coachella, as daydreams of sunshine, palm trees, and amazing live musical performances consume their thoughts.

For one weekend, Angelenos escape the smog, throw on some bohemian-style duds, and take to the grassy fiends where negative vibes are inexistent. Once the lineup is published, it’s hard for any Angelino to say no. Venice Beach hippies, Silverlake hipsters, Beverly Hills divas, and Pasadena valley girls, and famous celebrities all have a place at Coachella, whether they choose to camp, stay at a hotel or Palm Springs resort.

There is a performance for everyone at Coachella; from the legendary hip-hop stylings of Jay-Z, to the electronic beats of DJ Tiesto, to the soothing melodies of bands like She & Him; everyone in Los Angeles has a reason to go. For most people, getting to Indio is a mission—a long, tedious drive or expensive flight. For Angelinos, it takes a drive of up to a few hours, and the experience is always worth it.

-- Lauren McHale
(photo credit Lauren McHale)

Urban Legends of Venice Beach

AFTER MOVING into my new apartment in Venice Beach, I took a walk with my roommate who had already been living in the apartment for a semester, so he knew the ins and outs of the neighborhood. What was interesting was the first story he told me about a man living in a house across the street from us.
“The guy who lives in that house is crazy” he said. “What do you mean, crazy?” I asked. Apparently the man has been living in Venice Beach for over 50 years, and rumor has it that he once went to the Venice Beach boardwalk where he invited a homeless man and a drug addict to live in his home with him. As my roommate explained this story, I stared across the street at this man’s home. Surrounded by a metal gate, the front yard is covered with old, broken chairs, tables, and shrubs that look like they haven’t been attended to in years. It was like a game of I Spy; I found four American flags hanging in various areas, a large mirror on top of the house, a clock displayed next to a window, and an old bike covered in dirt. His car sits in front of the house, an old blue VW wagon with all of the windows rolled down as if he has no concern for the car being robbed or stolen. As we walked back to our apartment, the man was leaving his home with his three dogs, all of which are of some mix of Pitbull—all without a leash. One is wearing a cone around its neck, and one has lost the functioning of its back right leg. The third dog, with a fatty tumor on its back the size of a baseball, has crossed paths with a smaller dog and is barking furiously in its direction as the man walks ahead, seemingly uninterested in the conflict.
Soon enough I believed the rumor to be true—this man must be crazy, yet there also must be a story there. How true are the stories we hear about “crazy” neighbors? With so many American flags, could he be a veteran? Has he created a halfway house for the homeless and the addicted? Venice Beach has always steered clear of being considered a stereotypical Los Angeles community, and he is the epitome of this ideal. Taking the advice of Professor George, I have resisted the urge to walk up alone, knock on his door and talk to him, but not a day goes by that I don’t look at his cluttered yard and wondered what his LA story is.

-- Lauren McHale

(photo credit: Lauren McHale)

Mythmaking in L.A.: Wear Clothes, Don't Speak

WHAT DOES it take to be a working model in Los Angeles?

There are currently hundreds of girls living in LA believing the false hopes and empty promises of the modeling industry. About four years ago, I too fell into the trap of believing I could become the next ‘supermodel.’ But it only took a taste of mega-dysfunctional hypnosis that eventually led to a rude awakening.

One day while shopping at a local mall, a man came up to me and asked if I had ever considered a career in modeling. “Not really” I said as my cheeks turned red. “Here’s my card, give me a call so we can talk about your future.”

I was a junior in high school, and a varsity swimmer and basketball player, but a model? I bought into the lure of superstardoom and quit sports because I was told they make me “bulk up” and learned how to starve in the name of potential. At my first “test shoot” in New York, a photographer laid on the floor aiming the camera upwards, a trick used to make my body appear longer and leaner as he told me to “look sexy” and “seduce the camera.”

A few months later I am a “new face” with two modeling agencies in Los Angeles. Going to castings was miserable; I would drive for hours in traffic just to wait several more hours before being called into the room. There seems to be this myth about LA that models are these glamorous prototypes for beauty and fashion which every woman should aspire to become. However, in reality the working models I waited with at casting calls were a far cry from what anyone should aspire to look like; cheek bones protruding from their face, eyes sunk so deeply into their skull it’s impossible to tell their color, knees are the widest part of their legs, and their concave stomachs make you hungry at the sight.

When it was my turn to meet the client, they would take my comp card instead of asking my name; then holding a camera, ask me to face forward, click, turn to the side, click, turn to the other side, click, then they would take my measurements and ask me to leave. Two minutes was all it took for them to determine my fate and the fate of every girl who walked in that room.

As a working model, I was always imperfect to the modeling industry. “Just another five pounds” they would say, but when five pounds were shed, “just five more” was all I would hear. After four months of wasting my first year of college trying to become a professional hanger, I finally broke through the shiny plastic cover of that dark, cruel world of self-hatred and mutilation—I quit, escaped, ran away and only look back in sympathy for those hundreds of girls still blinded by the stars in their eyes.

-- Lauren McHale

(photo credit: Seth Sebal)

With So Much Sunshine, Who is Left in The Dark?

AFTER WATCHING the various videos about Los Angeles’ past, I was most inspired by the Chavez Ravine story. Throughout our discussions in class, there has been a lot of emphasis on what it means to be from LA or move there from somewhere else. Many themes that arise are pursuing fame and fortune, endless opportunities and possibilities, and the LA “boosters” who marketed Los Angeles as a place of beautiful weather, agriculture, and growth. After watching the story about Chavez Ravine, I could not help but think about how so many people—who were forced to move out of their homes so that the Dodger’s Stadium could be built—were completely left out of this picture. As I researched further information about this event, I realized how much of a façade was placed over Los Angeles to make it look like the city where dreams come true, while many residents who could have used the “endless opportunities” the most, were denied them and suffered from Los Angeles’ growth while others prospered in their place.
Reflecting on this aspect of Los Angeles history, I thought about if there has ever been a time when I or someone I know has experienced such injustice—I couldn’t think of a thing, nothing that comes close to what Mexican-Americans faced during those times. This, I thought, is the prejudice reincarnated. Although my peers and I have not directly experienced Chavez Ravine or the Zoot Suit Riots, there is something to be said in that it happened not too long ago, and it is an issue that is regarded as being something of the past; yet many of the Chavez Ravine residents could be alive and well, maybe even living in Los Angeles to this day. It seems as though the story of Chavez Ravine has been considered a ‘blip’ in the image of “The City of Angels” which must be forgotten to preserve face. Artists like Vincent Valdez have attempted to make the Chavez Ravine story present in the Los Angeles mindset, yet it seems all too clear that LA prefers rejecting negative history and replacing it with another shiny billboard of how much better it is today from yesterday.
Had I not taken a class which emphasizes these historic Los Angeles events, I may have never known the tumultuous past of the people who believed in the LA dream and were betrayed by it. It is extremely important for those living in Los Angeles to remember where our population has come from, and the suffering that has occurred for those in pursuit of taking advantage of what LA promotes and claims to offer everyone. With so much sunshine, no one should be left in the dark of Los Angeles’ past.

-- Lauren McHale




(photo caption, top: Aurora Archega, carried out by the police, with all of her belongings, on May 9, 1959, photo caption middle: photo caption: Chavez Ravine is now the home of Dodger Stadium, which was built for the L.A. baseball team in 1962.
Credits: The City's Project, Flickr Stream
photo caption, bottom: Artist Vincent Valdez and "El Chavez Ravine"
photo credit: Genaro Molina, Los Angeles Times )