Street Art

The early summer haze known in Los Angeles as June gloom was just starting to dissipate when I picked up my friend to go check out the exhibit at MOCA.   Museums in LA remind me of ghost towns, wind and tumbleweed whistling through large open spaces, so I was shocked to see so many people milling about the galleries.  Clearly, the many articles written about this ground breaking display heralding graffiti artists had an impact on residents.  Jeffrey Deitch, the museum's new director, stated,

“One of the goals of this show is to place the best of these artists coming out of street culture into the context of contemporary art history.  I don’t think that there’s some separate category — real contemporary art versus street art."

For this reason I enjoyed and appreciated the exhibit although street art has a greater impact on me when it is in its natural habit and not haphazardly displayed in a brightly light, sanitized, white walled museum.

Reality

When DS and I first started to hatch our plan to form a company it didn't seem real.  It was a dream, an idea between two friends, which we kept confidential for several months.    When the time was right we slowly released the secret like helium escaping from a balloon.  When we left our first meeting with our  future agents I turned to DS and said, "Now it feels real".  Several months later, in the elevator after our first meeting with studio presidents where we discussed our philosophy and goals, the same expression escaped my lips.  Only days before I was battling the fumes and congestion in Hanoi.  The dream was still a notion, but after articulating our vision to executives who are in the business of making television, it started to become very real.  Today we were shown several potential offices on the lot and we immediately knew which one would be our home.  The charming, old suite of offices with venetian blinds and curved windows in a historic building bearing the name Clark Gable.  As we walked back to our cars I  laughed at myself, as I uttered the words, "now it seems real" putting a stamp on the magnitude of the day. I've worked in this industry for 24 years.  I've seen and experienced a  lot from the various positions I've held, and I've experienced some disappointment, so I don't take this excitement for granted.  I love that every moment feels crisp, consequential and real.

The Unknown

Perched in our cozy, satellite office in the shadow of the studios,  my partner and I sit with writers listening to tales of passion, and exploring potential concepts for development.  Some meetings are like mini-history lessons about particular sects, professions or moments in time.  We share topics we're enthusiastic about some anchored by books or articles.  For the next several months we will live in the unknown, a state of pure potential and fervor.  Only time will reveal which encounter will lead to more, which moment will be retold as the genesis of something greater.  I recently read about one of the primary differences between life and the afterlife.  Seemingly, in the astral plane the soul is all knowing.  The soul has complete memory and awareness and can manifest anything in an instant.  When the soul is in the body this knowledge is veiled.  It's only in the human form that we can experience the now, and embrace the beauty of not knowing.  Although waiting can frustrate me, so many wonderful moments in life are about the unfolding.  I realized what I love about this time in my life is the joy of anticipation, not knowing which conversation will lead to success, but trusting one or more of them will.

One-Two Punch

Several months ago my friend DS and I embraced our entrepreneurial spirit and started to dream about creating our own production company.  On long hikes we talked about our ideal work environment, the importance of communication and the art of compromise.  Our passion for stories and character lead to lively brainstorming sessions, ideas crowding our space like gnats on a moist summer night.  We kept our plan a secret until the time was right to unveil it.  The planets aligned, and our vision was greeted with enthusiasm.  Next week we embark on our deal at a major studio.  While organizing my home office I stumbled upon a list of dreams I tucked away after my Mondo Beyondo workshop last spring.  Staring back at me from the half dozen entries was creative partnership.  Truthfully, I don't remember writing it, or attaching any specific outcome to this dream, and yet, in hindsight, this collaboration is the quintessential  fulfillment of my wish.

Celebrations

In my book, marking life's milestones with celebratory parties is essential.  Gathering loved ones to share tales over food and drink in to the late hours of the night is what living is all about.  Last evening a friend honored her 50th year with a rocking fete.  Commandeering the DJ's sound system, her teenage son surprised her by performing two songs accompanied by his guitar.  Happy Birthday was sung and wine was spilled.  I enjoy parties where there is a degree of separation among all guests.  It serves as an open invitation to strike up conversation . . .  with everyone.   Even though I hadn't met all of my friends' friends, many of their names, as a result of stories from the past, were familiar.  Thus a casual introduction often lead to recognition and a deeper conversation.  To be able to float through a crowd untethered and with ease is the sign of a good party.  Happy Birthday DS!  May all of your dreams come true.

This Moment

Obesession

Sometimes happiness can be bought.  Several days ago, for $6.99 I purchased a bunch of peonies at Trader Joe's.  Every day this week I have watched and documented the saturated coral buds blossom.  I'm particularly fond of the way the afternoon sun makes the petals translucent.  I can't walk by them without staring, admiring their beauty and grace.  Their presence in my living room makes me happy.  It's kooky, I know, but their splendor brings me joy.  Today the petals parted exposing a core of yellow stamens.  I try not to think about how quickly their prime will be replaced by drooping outer leaves, and instead I write on my to-do list:  Trader Joe's.