Paul L.'s Profile

I haven't been to Chaco in over a year, but writing a review about it could be done at any time because Chaco is still a timeless experience.  You have to work hard to get here because the dirt road from the main highway is long and the washboard rhythms can be tiring.  No matter:  it's worth it.

I've been to Chaco in the summer but I prefer the biting cold winter months when the night time temperatures stretch below zero and a few sleeping bags are necessary to hunker down at the adjacent campsite.  Looking up at the stars on such totally silent nights are magical.  (I speak from experience.)

When it's cold enough, daytime walks through the ruins mean that you can often have Chaco to yourself and, if you're that lucky, you won't know what century you inhabit anymore.  It's just you and one of the greatest ruins -- perhaps, the crossroads of ancient peoples -- in North America.

I decided to trek north to Pinnacles National Monument for a little Halloween adventure.  After getting some good Mexican food in King City, the 25-mile drive east through the winding roads on bucolic rolling green hills was anything but scary.

This is a great time to visit Pinnacles because the triple-digit summer temperatures have subsided and the terrain becomes a lot friendlier to hikers and rock climbers.  Even the animals seem a lot happier.  Although there were few hikers on my visit, the rock faces had a good number of  climbers glued to them.  I had the lengthy Chalone Peak Trail and Condor Gulch Trail practically to myself and it seemed, as I made my way to the top of each, that I had the world to myself, too.

My Halloween adventure didn't include any bat encounters while going through Bear Gulch Cave, but I came upon a lone tarantula on one of my hikes who seemed glad to have me hang out with it for a few minutes.  I think we bonded, but I can't be sure.

I don't understand why the Pinnacles pastoral landscape doesn't get more visitors, but it's all the more for me when I return again soon.

Be forewarned that the art on display here -- not to be confused with the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh -- doesn't really live up to the grand white exterior of this temple of a former library.  To be fair, how could it?  If any building says 'Hey, I'm an art museum', this is it.

Just don't expect blockbuster shows here.  The interior is rather small, so one exhibition at a time is about all that is possible.  I've seen some interesting exhibitions here, but a visit can be a hit-or-miss experience to be sure.

Does that mean you should simply drive by?  No.  Take a chance because you may discover a few pieces by well-known artists, as I did today, that I would've never seen at the likes of LACMA or The Getty.

A rather humble sandstone building exterior reveals a magnificent arcade interior of five floors whose elegant, skeletal, matte black metal work casts a slight gloom upon the environs.  However, as daylight pours in from above through the shimmering glass panes, any fears are subdued and the space is revealed as intimate and functional.  The richness of the gorgeous brick, shiny tiles, polished marble and sun-hewn wood come to life as the sun reaches noontime.  All is well until darkness takes over and myriad shadows create their own characters.

This is a remarkable building that would seem more at home in northeastern cities, but its presence in downtown Los Angeles will just add to any visitor's sense of pleasant surprise.

Shoehorned into the lower level of an upscale strip center at a man-made lake, Pizza e Vino has a relaxed ambience with outdoor seating and an intimate interior.  The pizza making in their wood oven will make you divert your eyes from the television at the bar.

I watched my Margherita D.O.C. (with real buffalo mozzarella) get shepherded to completion by a fellow who tended to my pie like he was making pottery.  He moved it around constantly so that the crust had just the right amount of heat.  His sweat equity paid off:  the result was fabulous.

My only concern is that the pie was overly thin.  As delicious as it was, it had all the stiffness of a prop in a Salvador Dali painting.  Consequently, you'll be able to eat a whole pie by yourself in short order and, for the high price, that's disappointing and possibly dangerous.  If you're with a significant other and expecting to share a pie, you'll end up in a violently hungry battle for every last crumb and your relationship may not survive.  I hope Pizza e Vino has a well-stocked first aid kit ready.

I've never come across truly bad ice cream and I wonder whether it's possible?  I've never turned down ice cream wherever I've traveled, but the most intense ice cream I've had is in Mexico:  they know flavor and they should since it's the home of vanilla and chocolate.  The Amish in Pennsylvania make ice cream that is as thick as spackle and will stick to your ribs like almost everything the Amish make.  These two cultures don't skimp on ingredients.

And then we have Fosselman's.  Their french vanilla bean ice cream has a subtle flavor but the lack of creaminess was obvious and disappointing.  I love all things pumpkin, but their ice cream didn't have the pumpkin's complicated flavorful depth that I expected.  The experience made my taste buds think that I was eating diet ice cream and, while I can always benefit from fewer calories, my stomach seemed swindled.  Fosselman's is okay ice cream, but it's easier to go to my grocer's freezer.

Heat Waves in a Swamp: The Paintings of Charles Burchfield.  I wouldn't expect the Hammer to curate this exhibition because Mr. Burchfield has been forgotten by modern audiences outside of his base in western New York state.  It's all the more reason that I'm glad it's here because his work is quite accessible and ageless.  

This artist made a living as a wallpaper designer in his early years and one of the galleries features a wall-to-wall reproduction of one of his spectacular designs.  From his rich wallpaper to his fantastical artistic images, life is imbued into the everyday.  Telephone poles, cars, clouds, tree branches, stars, houses:  all take on an anthropomorphic presence.  Some of his watercolors seem to melt before you as if the images are burdened under the weight of the world.  Others have the sense of being outdoor cathedrals.  Some paintings are singularly cold and grey; others are luminous.

His simple home on the outskirts of Buffalo, New York, was the center of his universe and from it his imagination unlocked haunting images that are finding new popularity with a new generation.  As a long-time fan of his work, I'm glad to see it happen.

I stopped at Beverly Gardens Park to see Roxy Paine's shiny stainless steel sculptural mound called 'Erratic' and I spent some time wandering about appreciating a few other sculptures.  One really caught my interest not for its skill or composition but for the rather obvious and unintentional holes in the patinated bronze.

Well, 'Hunter & Hounds', a statue of a young man in a fox hunting uniform with two bloodhounds by his side, was sculpted by Henri-Alfred-Marie Jacquemart.  (The plaque on the base of the sculpture has a few misspellings, including the sculptor's name.)  According the plaque, 'This shell-torn statue stood guard above a subterranean chamber in which signal corps 3rd division American Army maintained headquarters communications during bombardment of Chatteau Thierry, 1918.'

The statue made its way from France to the Beverly Hills estate of a Mr. Longyear for dedication on Armistice Day 1925.   He wanted a memorial for his son who was killed in battle at Chateau Thierry so the French government gave permission to have the damaged statue transported to the United States.  Years later, the statue was donated to the city and relocated to a central position in this park.

It's odd to see a purposely unrestored statue anywhere, but the dents and holes in its bronzed skin add to its character and are crucial to its 100 year-old story.  Imperfection on prominent display in Beverly Hills.  What a powerful juxtaposition against the acres of offices nearby occupied by high-priced plastic surgeons attempting to turn back time and, in the process, erase many more stories.

These five stars are for all the damned-friendly young folks who work at Landmark.  I go there for the movies, but I appreciate how nicely the burgundy-shirted troop treats me.  Give them a paid day off on me.  Thank you.

In its location at a rather worn looking strip plaza amidst the pork-pie hat hipster contingent walking about Silver Lake, the tinted windows of Garage Pizza make it appear during the daylight hours as if it's closed.  Once beyond the rough exterior, the svelte interior has a groggy, but polite, ambivalence as metal bands play on the speakers and a down-and-out stainless steel pizza oven sits forlornly in a corner ready to clock in and work its next shift.  

Although they call my pizza a Garlic Margarita, I'd call it a casually-dressed over-priced cheese pizza.  Actually I've tasted this pie many times under different names at a lot of unremarkable places: it's a hangover pizza.  That's right.  After a night of heavy drinking, you could go to Walgreen's and buy your favorite hangover-the-counter cure or you could go to a pizzeria like Garage and eat some slices that will take the shine off what ails you.  Garage beats a two-tablet medicinal fizzie drink any day and it has a better soundtrack than your drug store.