Koreatown

There is something about our daily commute these days that is visibly different.  Actually, now that we think of it, the streets of Los Angeles have changed, and we are thinking this change is for the better.

The MAK Center for Art and Architecture at the Schindler House has decided to turn Los Angeles into a gallery space.  Instead of hanging paintings, they commissioned artists to create 21 billboard-sized artworks that will replace normal advertising spots.  So you can get a daily dose of public art without ever leaving the comfort of your car’s leather seats.

The exhibition How Many Billboards? Art In Stead — much like Clockshop’s Billboard Series, which also transformed Los Angeles’ landscape with artist designed billboards — is spread across the city, but is concentrated in West Hollywood and the Pico/Fairfax area.

We are hoping these artist billboards are a habit Los Angeles will keep.

The opening reception is this Saturday, February 27, 1-6pm at the Schindler House.  On Sunday, there will be panel discussions with participating artists from 1-5pm.  Also, make sure to check out their calendar for other programming accompanying the show.  Click here for more information.

Image: Artist Kerri Tribe’s billboard on La Brea Ave., north of Venice Blvd., on the east side of the street, facing north; photo: Gerard Smulevich

Studio Five Productions’ rendition of Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind, which runs until December 19th at the Studio/Stage Theatre in Koreatown, begins in complete darkness.  Not even an exit sign is visible when the blaring, hallow twang of a distorted electric guitar comes roaring over the speakers, and one gets the distinct feeling of being woken up in a foreign hotel room in the middle of the night by an emergency fire alarm—desperately grasping for a sense of place.  This, I believe, is the intended effect: to put the passive spectator actively in the mindset of the show’s central characters, shocked out of their sense of perception.

When the lights at last illuminate the stage, the audience is not given much reprieve.  The soul-quaking guitar gives way to the wails and cries of Jake, as he attempts to explain to his brother Frankie via pay-phone that he has murdered his wife Beth.  Jake’s massive physical presence and gurgling tone of voice, not to mention the freakily realistic scars on his face (the first of many examples of the show’s fantastic make-up work) suggest a definite capacity for violence.  And that’s all the viewer is given—the suggestion of some awful, violent act—before being hauled away on the trippy wagon-ride of Shepard’s twisted, family-grudge tale.

Like most any Shepard play, A Lie of the Mind takes place in that timeless, Western void of manly cowboys and their neglected yet strong-willed women.  But what director John Langs brings out in his cast and the script is the idea that these archetypes are growing sick and deformed beneath the pressures of contemporary psychology. There’s Jake, the gruff, impulsive outlaw, who suffers from a debilitating mental illness, which borders the line of full-on psychosis.  His brother Frankie might be treated as the heroic romantic lead in a more traditional play, but in this one, becomes the helpless prisoner of another’s passions.  Beth, the main female lead and impetus for the sequence of events, undergoes a massive head-trauma, causing her to speak in a poetic tossed-salad of broken sentences.  Throw in an oedipal mother, a robotic Stepford wife, a revenge-obsessed brother, a couple of absent father figures (one literally, one morally), a level-headed sister in perpetual retreat of her past, and you come close to the picture of the post-modern American West set up by Shepard and executed by the cast in this dark, gripping drama.

Lang and his set designer, Dwayne Burgess eschew the easy choice of a more barren or bleak set and go instead with the steroid-pumped, maximalist aesthetic of an eighties hair-metal band.  It’s risky, but it works, and matches quite well with the unrestrained performances of the actors.  A Lie of the Mind does not take place in the reality we know; it takes place in a hyper-reality, where the visible becomes suspect.

Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind runs until Dec 19th at the Studio/Stage Theatre.  For more information, please call (888) 534-6001 or visit www.studiofiveproductions.org.

As a resident of that little nook in between downtown Los Angeles and Hancock Park, Koreatown street parking is the bane of my existence.  To those with a designated parking spot or plentiful street parking, you may not know exactly what I am talking about, but probably have had a taste of the Mad Max-style driving if you ever need some K-Town barbecue.

I spend a lot of time thinking about parking, public space, and temporal ownership as I drive around my apartment in a half-mile radius every day.  Neighbors form coalitions to save spots for each other by parking several cars far enough apart so that an outsider’s car can’t squeeze in.  Everyone involved  makes room for their fellow members to park when needed.  People stake out spots for friends by running outside to stand in a spot until their friend can back in.  It gets dangerous, especially when you are in a Seinfeldian standoff.  It is all about helping each other out when possible, becoming absolutely frustrated when you have spent 45  minutes looking for parking, and knowing that there must be a spot with your name on it…somewhere. 

For those who think that there is something beautiful about making an empty parking spot yours can make their dreams come true in an entirely different way — without a car.  Park[ing] Day LA is a motion to reclaim public space by transforming the key to happiness (i.e. a parking spot) into a park (i.e. even more happiness).  Those who have participated in the past have laid down sod, busted out barbecues, and paddling pools to take advantage of Los Angeles’ best deal when it comes to real estate: the metered parking spot.  Although Park[ing] Day LA is September 18th, the Greensters will be hosting a workshop this Saturday on how to take on such a feat with a temporary park demonstration.

You needn’t lose your parking spot at home though, hop on the Metro and get off at the Vermont/Santa Monica station.  And, if you have time to spare, swing by Scoops, the ice-cream parlor of with one of a kind sweet and savory flavors, which is close by. Click here for more information about Park[ing] Day LA.