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)

Defining Modern Art

THIS WEEKEND, I had the pleasure of visiting the Grand Avenue location of the Musuem of Contemporary Art downtown, which forced me to reflect on the relation of graffiti to modern art and the way space is used. Many of the paintings and sculptures that line the walls of M.O.C.A. are ones that would probably be thought of to be universally thought-provoking, but there were a few that I found to be strange additions which seemed to focus more on the process of making the art than the art itself, such as a completely black canvass that was untitled. How are these better than graffiti, and why are these things backed financially? As I walked through the museum, I found myself enamored with the descriptions and the way in which artists pitch themselves, specifically, a modern artist named Pierre Alechinsky who wrote, "When I paint, I liberate monsters. One does not chose the content, one submits to it." With each work of art, I found myself more interested in the writing and attitudes that artists hold towards their work than the work itself.

Upon leaving, I noticed a series of chalk drawings that someone had created on the sidewalk near the parking garage that looked like a series of intricate crop circles. How was this not art? It didn't have the artist's instruction manual. Maybe everything is art, but pitching yourself as an artist is half of the battle. The chalk circles didn't get a description about inner demons, and therefore, people weren't going to pay to ruminate over their meaning. This forced me to conclude the hierarchy at play: perhaps the most talented artists (specifically in graffiti) making statements are not recognized simply because they don't get the chance to pitch themselves. All of the artists in the gallery were supported by huge financial donors, but how does one even get a meeting with these donors? Knowing people.

Maybe the real artists are ones like Prime as featured in Ruben Martinez' "Going Up in L.A.," whose vision for art was not selfish, and even actively wanted to involve other people: "I want to have a big lot when I grow older," he said, leaning forward, a small gold crucifix swinging in front of his dark blue sweatshirt. "It'll have big, long, movable walls. I'll put canvasses up, and have kids and artists there, have it be like a big maze of art. Then, with the money I make in one day, I'll buy some more canvas and change the maze." For "contemporary art", few pieces in the musuem actively involved the spectator, and the descriptions definitely catered to crowds with their undergraduate degrees. The purpose of art is that it is supposed to be universal: it can mean something to anyone. Graffiti is easy to see. It is in our faces every day as we drive to school, work, the daily grind. You don't have to pay a price for it, and you definitely have an opinion on it, good or bad, without needing a paragraph written about it. It just breathes a life of its own without explanation.

Although graffiti art is rapidly gaining recognition with an upcoming documentary on British street artist Banksy, graffiti tours, and new styles popping up everywhere, why aren't these artists getting paid big bucks too?

--Thea Green

(photo: banksky, credit: cannon snapper, flickr creative commons)

L.A.: The Unfinished Sentence

THE PHOTO at right is not spot news. Neither is it a lost-now-found record of a forgotten L.A. disaster. Rather, it documents the beginning. Long before L.A. became a breathless, run-on sentence, it was an unfinished thought, a smattering of neighborhoods yet to be connected. To see Los Angeles before its super-structure of elevated roads -- its freeways -- creates a different sort of narrative. Richard C. Miller was there to watch L.A. transform. Lucky for us, he brought his camera with him. A new show that opens next Saturday, at the Craig Krull Gallery, features Miller's six decades of work in and around Los Angeles. Many of these pieces are "snapshots" he made with his 35mm or 4-by-5 while tooling around town between his paying gigs. Miller, now 97, arrived in Los Angeles early last century and copiously documented incidental details -- parking lots, street corners, traffic lights, Good Humor Ice Cream trucks and, most dramatically, the construction of the Hollywood Freeway -- the four-level and all. Miller saved everything and we benefit from the gift of it. I'm in the midst of finishing up a piece for the Times about the show. A couple of years ago, I was lucky enough to be able to spend a good portion of the day in Calabassas with Miller and his daughter and some close artist/photographer friends. They were packing him up and moving him to New York's Hudson River Valley.
I saw stacks of prints, pillars of boxed negatives and transparencies packed into closets and beneath beds. Everything was being cleared and sent to a air-controlled vault -- blessedly. Also, since then Miller has had some work hang at the Getty and is flying back here for the gallery opening. Imagine, coming of age when L.A. came of age. Imagine, riding back-and-forth on the freeway just for the thrill of connecting the dots faster. Miller's work allows us to visualize those transitions, L.A.'s own there to here story. Arguably, connecting the dots of the city put fine punctuation on another era, a pastoral quality that so many older Angelenos recall. His work speaks to that, diagrams that complex sentence.

Show information:

Richard Miller: Over the Long Run
Vintage Carbro Prints, The Hollywood Freeway and L.A. in B/W

February 27 - April 3, 2010
Reception: February 27, 2010 4-6 PM
Bergamot Station
2525 Michigan Avenue, Building B-3
Santa Monica, California 90404
Tel: (310) 828-6410
info@craigkrullgallery.com

-- L.G.


top photo caption: "#37"
middle: The Four-Level
bottom: The Cahuenga Pass
Photo Credit: Richard C. Miller