GHOST MOUSE RIDES AGAIN and GHOST MICE, READY FOR TAKE-OFF, both on display at Silver Blue & Gold in Laguna Beach

Silver, Blue & Gold, studio jewelry and art gallery – 1492 south coast highway, laguna beach, ca 92651

Where the Sidewalk Ends at Ar4t Gallery in Laguna Beach is an exhibition curated by Chantal de Felice, an artist that in her own work has chosen to celebrate the whimsy and delicate beauty of urban life. Her works are less urban landscapes and more portraits of the energy that becomes infused into houses, alleyways and skylines by the presence of human creativity combined with the persistence of nature. Graphite lines contour small adobe houses of Angelino Heights or render, brick by brick, the facade of a restaurant in San Francisco, conveying a sense of decay, one of the pervasive elements of the natural world. The 8 individual artists and one art collective that she has chosen to include along with her own work, create with gorgeous success the surrealism formed by our constant collaboration with nature. I’ll build it up and you break it down.

In one corner of the gallery, a large-scale cityscape is installed in a pre-existing recess in the concrete walls of the gallery, created by Chantal from the wooden remnants of a shipping crate, complete with telephone poles framing a twinkling skyline and jigsaw windows that form the framing of three delicate watercolors by Allison Peairs. Chantal’s drawings on wood are hung to the right of her city installation in an intimate group like remnants of the city that have floated away.

Along the back wall of the gallery are the collages of Liz Brizzi, strong vibrant mash-ups of buildings and bridges, rendered in a strong graphic style and infused with delicate washes of color. Her work is so steeped in magical realism that the way she flips and inverts the architecture is secondary to all the places she has created for the imagination to go: flat roofs and ladders to penthouse studios, shifting floors and hidden walkways. This sense of magic is a strong thread that runs throughout the show and is maybe the most apparent in the work of Yevgeniya Mikhailik whose delicate watercolor illustrations hold in their depths the power of a personal (and secret) mythology. Her work is less concrete and steel in its architectural sensibilities and more highly textiled like a much-loved and faded quilt thrown over a chair to form a mountain/fort/secret hideout.

One cannot have a secret, much less a hideout, without something or someone from which to hide and in that sense the youth and imagination that create the uplifting aspects of the exhibit are matched by a very adult and even slightly sinister element. Here we are again confronted with the essence of decay as well as facades, but not those that are attributed to buildings but to people, grown up people. A sweet and light-handed grouping of drawings by Nancy Chiu possess the sensuality of rose petals, delicate and almost on the edge of withering. A didactic by Jennie Cotterill of a mountain man on the porch of his charming log cabin becomes satirical when you realize the scene is a self-portrait, the jug of XXX and the doormat that reads “beat it” playing brilliantly against the laundry-line running through the backyard pinned to it an apron and pair of polka-dotted undies.

Meagan Segal too contributes to the grown up side of the equation with arrangements of human organs and bone mixed with florals that possess the sensible beauty of high tea dappled in the soft pink light that will often appear in Southern California at dusk. LCAD student Lauren Molina, participating as part of the college’s Mentoring Program, is a perfect addition with work that utilizes relics from adult life, drafting paper, a magazine clipping, a mid-century style illustration of a girl towering over the treetops, the work entitled “The Tallest Girl In School.” What is an adult but the tallest version of a child?

For the past 3 holiday seasons, Torrey Cook of Ar4t has shown exhibits that celebrate the deep realms of imagination that are sustainable in youth. Where the Sidewalk Ends is a continuation of that tradition with the reference to Shel Silverstein, famed children’s poet and creator of the sustainably absurd. Silverstein was particularly skilled in bringing together sensibilities that could be appreciated on different levels for different reasons by both parent and child. Chantal as curator and Torrey Cook as gallerist have both picked up on these and the result is a highly balanced and collaborative atmosphere that bridges two realms. Every aspect of the exhibit has been meticulously thought through and the opening, happening on Saturday, November 17th from 6 – 9 pm will feature a special performance by artist, writer and all around wit Sophie Kipner and a sound installation by Chantal de Felice specially designed to enhance the work.

Crops of metal flowers created by the non-profit organization CANLOVE are also installed throughout the gallery.

More information on the work they do can be found at canlove.org.

For more information on Ar4t gallery, please visit ar4t.com

Click to view slideshow.

This article was written for the OC Art blog and the OC Artists Republic, published November 16, 2012

As a means of explanation, the term “point of no return” comes from aviation and literally refers to the moment during a flight between Point A and Point B that a plane can only continue towards Point B because the fuel has dipped below the capacity to turn back to Point A. Very well known individuals throughout history have experienced this phenomenon with their feet on the ground,  either in an attempt to fight a land war in Asia or…well, maybe only attempting that.  To choose an obscure example, Xiang Yu was a Chinese warrior that contributed greatly to the fall of the Qin Dynasty around 209 BC. A pivotal moment in Xiang Yu’s military career was the Battle of Julu in 207 BC during which he led an army across a river, sinking the very boats that could have enabled his retreat. The phrase, spoken by Xiang Yu during that moment encapsulates his resolve, “Break the kettles and sink the boats.” In essence, he formulated his own point of no return.

In the case of Xiang Yu, sinking his means for retreat inevitably contributed to his success in the short run. He won the battle of Julu and gained wealth, land and power as a result. However, his always forward, never back mentality caught up with him and he ended his own life after years of struggling to defend and maintain all that he had procured for himself. For every rush forward in prestige, power, technology and resulting monetary gain there is the fight to maintain it. One could say that the major world wars of the past century were in essence this struggle.  All this innovation, all this moving from the village to the city and then. And then. We as a global civilization have made the journey past the point of no return and we must somehow formulate a feasible Point B and hold it in our minds in order to avoid the panic that comes from the knowledge that we, as a society, cannot turn back.

Now more than any other time in history, young people are becoming artists, musicians, and writers, it seems in an effort to restore balance back to the world. Whether or not it is consciously on the mind of the new painter, it is abundantly clear that the world does not need another Xiang Yu, Napoleon, Genghis Khan, “H”, Stalin, Sani Abacha or even Oppenheimer. For those of us born post WWII, anxiety is the foundation on which we have built our entire lives. We know no sense of quiet, no reference to a time when global warfare and mechanized weapons were not an ingrained part of our sense of place and purpose. No one alive today can say that they are not in some way affected, intimately, by the terms and conditions of war. We each and every one of us have family members who were permanently displaced by it, whose minds were scarred by it and whose very culture was broken and reset.

Contemporary art displays this deeply. We are scattered, individualized without a purpose and desperately seeking a voice in which to express this anxiety. Our villages are long gone, dissolved into the roots of family trees that stretch across continents and threaten to encircle the entire world in a network of thirst. The thirst quenching liquid, the so-called Nectar of the Gods is our ability to express ourselves. We need to be able to present endless points of view in a manner that can cross all divides and reverse the mentality that our boats must burn in order to further the success of our campaign as a species. Nothing connected or leading to destruction of any kind will result in success in the long run. We must support more constructive means of effecting civilization. We must create and create uniquely.

Image captions:
Above: Sarah Walsh, UNTITLED, charcoal on arches butcher paper
Bellow: Sarah Walsh, SELF PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST’S HAND, digital photography

This article was written for RAWR magazine published November 10, 2012.

Amongst all this, on the top floor of the largest building, artist Yevgeniya Mikhailik has her own studio, a small and lovingly decorated space. Situated in a room with other small studios, hers is in the corner, against the aluminum framed windows, bursting with golden light that illuminates the moody, earthen drawings and watercolors that lean against the concrete walls. A paper palette filled with pigments of olive green and mahogany rests on a high stool next to a drafting table and there, on a makeshift shelf of cardboard taped along the bottom is a 8 x 8 inch square of illustration board. On the board is an entire mountain, a work in progress.

Mountains take an incredibly long time to create. There exists in every ridge and range a story so deep, so molten, that nothing about that mountain can qualify as being exactly about that mountain. Only of the mountain or around it or through it or upon it. Yevgeniya’s work is no different. Every single creature, structure or geological form she creates, set in forests of line and texture, speak to you. The stories go on for centuries and like mountains you cannot begin to find the beginning or the end of them.

Yevgeniya’s work will be shown along with 8 other incredible artists at the upcoming exhibition WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS…, November 17th – December 22nd, 2012 at the Ar4t Gallery in Laguna Beach. More information on that exhibit can be found at ar4t.com.

www.yevgeniyadraws.com

Pictured above: (1) Yevgeniya Mikhailik, The Monk, 12 x 9 inches, watercolor, ink and pencil on clayboard (2) Yevgeniya Mikhailik, Yetis Blanket, 24 x 18 inches, watercolor, ink and pencil on clayboard (3) Yevgeniya Mikhailik, Hide and Seek, 8 x 10 inches, watercolor, ink and pencil on clayboard / Pictured below: Yevgeniya Mikhailik, House Ghost, 16 x 12 inches, watercolor, ink and pencil on clayboard.

To have such prime real estate fall to waste points without a doubt to something troubling or conflict-ridden in the property’s history, (which is something to ponder when visiting these sites). We level the land and build our houses in a manner that reflects our hopes and dreams of security and a happy future. However, there lies an interesting psychology that reveals itself not in the building of new structures but in the abandonment of the old. The thought being that what we create, no matter how idyllic our intentions, will always be susceptible to decay.

Hangover House or The Richard Halliburton House, Laguna Beach, CA

Designed and built by American architect William Alexander Levy (1909–1997) for his friend, adventure and travel writer Richard Halliburton (1900 – 1939 in the Pacific Ocean), this beautiful 1930’s modern home looms out from the rock overlooking the Aliso Creek golf course with incredible views of the ocean. Sitting abandoned for years due to legal issues, the house was once approachable from the outside where one could peer into its stained and rust-lined windows to see the interior almost untouched (complete with made beds and loaded bookshelves). The concrete exterior and flat roof design outfitted with multiple terraces and stairs made it an especially fun place to explore although a bit dangerous to visit at the wrong time of day, especially if you were unaware of the property – drops to the canyon below were unmarked and you definitely needed to watch your step.

 Writer Ayn Rand once visited the home, at the time a virtual unknown and close friend of Halliburton. It is said that she based the “Heller House” in The Fountainhead on the Hangover House.

The house on the sketches had been designed not by Roark, but by the cliff on which it stood. It was as if the cliff had grown and completed itself and proclaimed the purpose for which it had been waiting. The house was broken into many levels, following the ledges of the rock, rising as it rose, in gradual masses, in planes flowing together up into one consummate harmony. The walls, of the same granite as the rock, continued its vertical lines upward; the wide, projected terraces of concrete, silver as the sea, followed the line of the waves, of the straight horizon.

 The loneliness of the house as it stood all those years abandoned is also eerily foreshadowed by Rand in The Fountainhead through the design philosophy of fictional architect Howard Roark:

 A building is alive, like a man. Its integrity is to follow its own truth, its one single theme, and to serve it own single purpose.

 Hangover House is currently in the hands of private owners that are working to restore the home but are reportedly receiving some pushback from local historic property activists who are concerned that the renovations will alter Levy’s masterpiece. Nothing could have altered the property more however than years and years of neglect. To see the house when it stood empty was to experience the strange power of abandoned places. You cannot imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to rescue such a gorgeous structure.

Image above: Scans were made in 2011 by Anne Frymark, from photographs in a photo album from the Richard Halliburton Collection at Rhodes College. More images can be found HERE

Black Star Canyon Falls, Black Star Canyon

Formed by the combination of natural rock and the abandoned remains of an old mine shaft, this waterfall is a rare and beautiful site and a great destination with elements of the abandoned visible along the hiking trail that leads to it. Until recently you could clearly see the remains of a school bus and quite a few dilapidated wooden structures as well as remains from the mining work. Slowly but surely the abandoned structures are being removed and each hike out has revealed less and less. Regardless, Black Star Canyon is an area of mystery and always will be. With urban legends ranging from secret military experiments to cult groups, the KKK, ghosts and a mining disaster, the depth of interest and rumor is beautiful in its rarity. Much like an abandoned structure, Black Star Canyon has an air of stillness, even loneliness that is attributed to its odd geography but can also be attributed to its strange past and present. All legends aside, the canyon is still not a great place to explore without a plan and always with a partner or in a group. The road leading up to the canyon is technically accessible by the County but is for all intents and purposes private property.

Photo Credit: Joel Robinson

Chateau Relaxo, 1000 Steps Beach, Laguna Beach

This house is a private residence that stands empty much to the annoyance of the neighboring inhabitants of this semi-private beach in South Laguna. The beach itself is secluded and small, accessible only by walking down a somewhat steep line of concrete stairs that average out at around 200 steps. Although the city of Laguna announced publicly that it would be working with the owner of the house to tear it down, it still stands without change outside of the addition of another work of graffiti. Recently a teenager was arrested for trespassing, which is evidence that it is being watched more closely than in years past.

The El Toro Marine Base, Irvine

The El Toro Marine Base in its heyday was the most sought-after assignment in the United States. Located minutes from Laguna Beach and offering a more laid-back community, life on base became known as ‘Swing with the Wing‘ referring to the almost civilian-style manner of living. When the base closed in 1999 it wasn’t readily apparent as to the reason, outside of the widely known presence of high levels of toxic waste caused by years and years of wrongly disposed-of TCE or Trichloroethylene which is a chemical used to clean out jet fighters and C-130’s. TCE is only one of many chemical contaminants seeped into the land located in the middle of Irvine and surrounded by miles and miles of suburban housing developments. Gallons upon gallons of Benzene, a component of jet fuel, have been spilled during the half-century that the base was operational.

It now stands abandoned and is even whispered to be a legitimate “ghost town” with sightings of Marine guards who walk through the property in plain sight of witnesses only to disappear behind the rubble of an old barrack never to be seen again. Still approachable by Irvine Blvd and then through the back roads of the recently created “Great Park.” The old Marine barracks are still standing, gutted, marked and surrounded by chain-linked fencing. If ghosts do indeed linger there they are the manifestations of events connected to this piece of land that has been shrouded in mystery for one reason or another for decades. Like most abandoned places, it is a section of once inhabited space rendered uninhabitable through misuse, legal battles or concealed facts that lend to a deep air of mystery and concern that is sensed by all that come across it.

Photo above was taken when I visited the El Toro site a few months ago.

This article was written for RAWR magazine published October 10, 2012.

So organically in sync with his materials is this artist that as a viewer you are presented with a suspension of disbelief that is astonishingly subtle. Giancritstiano does not tip his hand in any way to reveal the craft and back-breaking effort that goes into his work. The material is plainly plywood and he makes little effort to conceal that. The work is also very much specifically about the plywood, the artist’s personal relationship with it (like brush with death personal) and even how the plywood should feel as an object, texturally and emotionally. “You know that plywood is made up from sheets of low-grade wood that are then pressed together, each against the grain creating an almost impenetrable panel,” Michael makes sure to point out as he sets about making our dinner on a grill he has pulled out into the parking lot. “It is natural wood but yet completely man-made as an object, virtually indestructible.” That was at the beginning of my visit and knowing plywood like I do and plywood being one of the most common manifestations of wood since the dawn of human existence (used even by the ancient Egyptians), I did not give his statement much thought until later when he said something that changed my perception completely.

After dinner and after we had discussed the LA art scene and the Orange County art scene and the differences and similarities that exist between the two (Michael has recently moved to Santa Ana from Los Angeles), he suddenly started to talk about the work that surrounded us, unprompted, as if I just needed to be there long enough before he felt comfortable enough to speak about his process. He said this:

“Creating these pieces is a journey through which I am uncovering a narrative that exists within the wood. With each layer of remnant and glue that I chip away at I am revealing shapes and colors and grains that would not otherwise be revealed.”

I offered then that he was exposing the natural wood for what it was, working with circumstances beyond his control and revealing the beauty to be found there more than he was imposing beauty through mark-making. “…like this symmetry, the way a shape exists on one side of a panel and then occurs as the mirror opposite on the other side.” I pointed then at one particularly elegant pattern of wood that looked like it were slowly and violently coming apart, as if every time you looked at it another section would explode away from the facade. At that point I was ever so politely corrected. “I create the symmetry you are seeing, it is not accidental. I expose a shape or pattern on one side and affix the chips and slivers that I take away then to the other side to create its mirror image.” At that moment his work graciously joined the conversation, pouring out feeling and the evidence of great care and attention to detail. The texture of each panel picked up the warehouse lights, the wood varnish glowing as if to say, “We were a little embarrassed to correct your assumption that we weren’t absolutely amazing, until now.”

More information can be found at MichaelGiancristiano.com

Pictured from top: Studio view of the Pits of Despair / Escaping the Pits of Despair #1 / Escaping the Pits of Despair #2

A view from the top

Originally written for the OC Art Blog, published September 2, 2012.

The cabin is without running water, electricity or plumbing of any kind. It has stayed in a state of arrested motion for all of my life with the exception of small additions and improvements usually of a wildly fantastical or deeply practical nature like a box of new paperback novels will be brought up to provide insulation or the dock will be replaced. A solar panel was recently installed and I spent a good portion of my first day frantically trying to wire my cell phone charger to it before I resigned myself to the silence. By the efforts of my uncle Chris and aunt Cindy, a beautiful kitchen has materialized over that last ten years with a gas stove, butcher block counters, lots of pots and pans and a hand-pump to bring water from the well. I spent most of my time there, cooking and pumping water which I found endlessly entertaining.

Lesson learned from my visit: I am not neurotic so much as I am a person who needs to be concerned with the particulars of my own survival in a very labor intensive way.