Lessons in Art, Adventure, Earthquakes and Eggs

Brought to you by today's 6.9 earthquake which I did not feel on the 405 freeway.  Thank you, Already Fragile Road.

It is Easter Weekend and for some of you that means new dresses and lots of Honey Baked Ham and definitely family and probably family fights if not family tension.  Well, for me, it's Adventure Weekend.  Time to say yes to things and not no to things and see what the weekend holds.  And hopefully, by the end of Sunday, I'll learn a few things that will make me less annoying and a bit cooler. 


1.  An hour at a museum is a massage. 
Well, it might not be a museum that "massages" you and I'm sort of hoping it's not some lady in Garden Grove that takes her robe off before she starts the clock.  What I mean is an hour of creative time is like a massage and will do wonders for your brain and your body.  It might not have a happy ending, well not the kind you're thinking of.  Dirty Bird, You.


2. Driving to and from places is part of The Adventure. 

Remember when mom and dad, umm, when they weren't fighting about taxes or who dad talked to at THAT party or something like that, umm...okay, let's start over.  Remember when mom and dad would tell you to look out the window when you were driving to and fro on vacation and you would see that tall thing that people called ....a tree?  That is part of the adventure.  And even if you're only going from one city or county to the next, you can still look at all the signs and watch the people and slow down at the lights and maybe even pull over and take a couple pictures or write some notes about some interesting colors you see.  See?  I did that today and ran straight into The LA Public Library.  My mom and dad fell in love (and war) in a few places throughout southern california.  The LA Public Library was one and Balboa Beach was another.  And me, just driving slow enough and paying attention enough to cross the street and run into it and stop and notice a couple taking pictures in that very "in love and girl rolling her eyes at her lover" state, well, it was exactly  the way the library should be. 

3. Don't roll your damn eyes at your lover.
Just.  Don't.  You love them.  Get it?  I saw Library Girl standing in front and she looked so hip and her guy was taking her photo and you could tell he was enjoying taking it and she kept eye rolling.  One day, she's going to regret the eye rolls and long for the time when a man that loved her wanted to take her photo.  I know it's a holiday and all, but...Dumb Ass.  That's all.

4. Check your foundation every once in awhile.  Just in case.
So, yah, we had a big earthquake today and if you're not from California you probably cried and that's okay.  We won't judge you. If you're from Callifornia then you froze for a brief moment, assessed the quake and kept Facebooking.  You're cool like that.  I was in downtown la when it happened and noticed a grip of LAFD trucks all over the place and realized they were quickly doing structural checks on some of the buildings.  Sure, maybe everything was okay but still, just check.  And you?  Maybe everything in your relationships, your friendships, your work is okay, but check your foundation in each every once in awhile.  Just to be sure.  Just in case.  You're cool like that.

5. You cannot help what draws you.
Walk into a room.  Just walk. And you'll see it.  It's the one piece that stands out more than the others.  And sure, you could follow in order and go number by number or be one of those sick "tour" people that like structure and do everything by the books and how others tell you to.   You're not everyone else.  You walk into a room and you see what attracts you and you go to it instantly and there is not a thing you can do but enjoy it. 

6. Not every piece is for you. 
Take Lichtenstein for example.  He gives me seizures if I look at his work for more than 34 seconds.  I love the ideas but it's not for me.  And I'm over the idea that I have to look at every single piece and act as if it interests me beyond measure and appear ABSORBED in it.  I'm not absorbed in each piece of art just like I'm not absorbed in each story I read or design I see or song I hear.  Oh, but the ones that get me, now that's a whole different type of seizure.  My brain short circuits in the best way. 

7. The literal insults me in art and feeds me in relationships. 
I'm a little complicated.  I know.  It's been a couple weeks of figuring this out with art but I have trouble with photos that are too clear in their stories or paintings that leave too little to my imagination.  I want a chance to intrepret something for me and my story and for a painting to speak to my heart.  I'm a little selfish that way. 

Don't you dare try that with a relationship.  I need "just the facts."  If you like my ass, tell me.  If you don't, tell me that, too.  (as if......)  If I'm acting like a spoiled brat, tell me.  Be clear.  No ambiguity.  Nothing Rothko about relationships. 

A couple extra weekend lessons for your first full week of April.  Pay attention, Darlings.
1. It is not possible to ever get enough eggs for an egg hunt.  It just isn't. Embrace that.
2. Little Benjamin gave Jordan all his eggs. Jordan gave them all to Ramteen.  Love is fickle.  Age doesn't matter.
3. If you see a woman putting oil in her car or air in her tires and you have a penis, help her to avoid hell.
4. When your girlfriend tells you, with tone, over Moroccan salad that you need to support your boyfriend.  "Support your boyfriend".  And chill.  They know things, Salad Eating Know It All Girlfriends.
5. Talk to people in line.  I wouldn't say annoy them but if they engage you, then engage them.  You might meet some very interesting, giving people and organizations. Orangewood Children's Foundation 
6. There are neat little nooks if you go around the back of tourist spots.  Find them.  Walt Disney Concert Hall
7. Notice who checks on you when there is an earthquake.  Fortunately for me, it was the same person who first wished me a Happy Easter today.  I'm very, very happy about that, and that.

Adventures.  I want them.  I walked into the room with the Rothko's and, go ahead and laugh, it brought tears to my eyes.  It wasn't the paint or the lines or the space but the sheer opportunity to think and to dream which you know I love to do.  And to walk around that corner and have such a surprise like that was the best adventure and gift of the day. 

I want them.  More of them. More corners to walk around and more adventures to say yes to and not no to.  I want to feel things when I turn the corner and take deep breaths and shed tears and live and gasp from experiencing. 

May your week be adventure filled,
Cole

Lessons in Senses

Brought to you by my very tired but perfectly pedicured feet and toes.  I included the toes being that they are attached to my feet.

If you didn't know already by the endless amount of pictures I posted and the endless amount of emotion I expressed, I had a rather big event this past Saturday.  It's over.  My shoulders are returning to their normal relaxed position.  My sleep was not interrupted at five in the morning with thoughts and fears of platforms that needed adjusting and lighting cues and DJs and such.  Once the event ends there is about a week breather and then, well, it's on to the next one. 

There's always a next one and for that, I'm terribly grateful.

The event was new for me.  Sure, it had a big center bar.  My guests require that from me at gunpoint.  And it had sexy music.  This time though, we turned the lawn into a bit of a museum and a bit of performance art and all around the sensory experience was unlimited if you wanted it to be.

So was mine.  Those senses tend to get the best of me.

Lessons in Taste: It takes time to taste food.
The food was amazing and the chef cooking on site went out of his way to make sure I tried the first of everything.  And at the end of the night one of the catering staff set aside a plate for me.  My absolute favorite thing to do once an event ends is to wait for the last person to leave, walk past the wait staff having their cigarettes, take something small to eat and a diet coke and go sit in the middle of the event space and just breathe it all in.

The food tastes so much better when you have time to taste it. Even today, exhausted and barely able to get up to oversee the tent teardown this morning, I came back home to rest and went out for a very late dinner.  Asked for a table in the back and ordered pork chops and mashed potatoes and steamed spinach and took time to not answer calls, to not answer email, to not tweet but to enjoy a very good meal. 

It takes time to taste food.  And doing so in the middle of a gorgeous lit tent sitting on my white museum bench was simply lovely.  And sitting in the back of a restaurant looking back quietly on a great event is even lovelier.

Lessons in Smell: Stay in your moments.
I was going to wear my perfume but I wore his cologne.  Which might end up being mine if I decide to buy it but for now I have this small sample I got so I could smell him when I'm not with him. Groan, such a girl, I know.  And all evening I kept forgetting to reach down to my wrist to breathe him in.  I wanted to have all the important people a part of me that evening. I wore my grandfather's WWII necklace with my mother's name imprinted, my father's worn belt and that damn cologne. 

There are moments to be in rather than waiting for moments.  I should have stopped to smell his cologne.  I would have liked to have remembered that, that night.

Lessons in Hearing: Be honest about what you like to hear.

We were almost finished with set up and ready to start the event when someone went up to one of the artists and said, "You are so talented!  Do you ever get tired of people telling you that?"  She turned around, smiled and said, "No.  I was deprived of admiration as a child so I'll take all I can get."  And then she picked up her brush and kept painting. 

How honest to say 'I like when you compliment me' or 'I like admiration'.  We are so fearful of being honest about our needs for fear of judgement and to witness someone do so with such abandon was attractive.  No wonder she looks 20 years younger than she is.  Hmmmm...

Lessons in Sight: See what you see not what they see.

When MOCA opened years ago, I was very young and my mother stood me in front of Blue and asked me, "What do you see?"  I wanted to move on to the light installation because it had multiple colors and neon lighting and there were all these walls you could run through.  She asked again, "What to you see?"  At the time, I don't think I saw much more than the ocean or the sky but now, oh, now, there are so many stories I see in that same Blue.  I could stand there for hours and tell you layers and layers of what I see and I'm so glad she taught me to see what I see and not to see what she told me to see. 

While we were setting up for yesterday's event, three little girls walked by and wanted to watch the florists designing our art inspired masterpiece.  I asked them, "What do you see?"  And, then, right then it was as if I was my mom standing in MOCA next to these little girls and waiting to see what their new, young, creative, emotional, excited feminine brains would experience and any answer would be right. 

Lessons in Touch: People want to belong and to be loved.
I walked the event over and over last night and saw lots of little groups, not really cliques.  This community is very community-ish and embraces new neighbors rather well.  Still, there are the few that have that hard time moving away from clinging to the cocktail table, getting outside their comfort zone and finding new friends. 

And isn't that what we all want?  Friends.  A place to belong.  Someone to give a damn when we have a cold.  And then hopefully someone to give even more of a damn when things are really bad, like swine flu or a breakup or a breakout? 

It's frequently the case that everyone goes on to the next party and I go home alone.  It's the nature of my role.  I'm coming to accept that.  I don't accept it for the lonely guy standing in the crowd that just needs a handshake or a pat on the back or a touch on the shoulder or someone to say, "you matter."

Well, you matter.  You do. 

At the end of the night, on that museum bench, eating my end of the night plate of appetizers and looking up at my end of the night beautiful lighting that was now lit just for me and staring at those flowers and taking it all in with all of my senses, well, you know.  I cried like a damn baby.

Two of my security guys walked up and asked what was wrong since my head was hung low trying to hide a sensory overload of tears.  I wiped my face with both hands and said, "three months of planning rolling down my face and....I'm a girl."

With abandon, I say it.  Feeling free to experience my feelings I say it and enjoying the touch of the tears on my face I feel it.

Much artistic love to you this fine early Monday.
Cole