This day started early, early, early. The alarm went off at 2 AM. It's odd to be starting one's day as others are coming home, not having finished theirs. My 5:30 AM flight went off without a hitch. I was traveling with what I am convinced was some throwback 80's band. I'm actually serious - there were all these dudes in first class, macked out in huge 80's hair (I've never researched the term "hair metal" but seeing these guys, I think I understand it) and the kind of fashion that makes one think of acid-washed jeans and shoulder pads. That and the sight of one of them checking an entire cart full of equipment cases thoroughly aroused my suspicions... This was either some sort of throwback band, a bunch of rockstar has-beens who never got the memo that their moment in the sun had passed, or a group of gentlemen who choose a rather unique form of dressing for the hunting trip! Good times...
I was relieved that my connecting gate was a few steps away from my arrival gate; Atlanta is a huge airport and I was sweating my 50-minute layover. On my next flight, I sat next to a very dignified and scholarly gentleman, one who may have been the most diminutive gentleman I have ever seen. I am pretty sure I am not exaggerating when I say he came up to my elbow, and I could have swung him onto my hip with ease. Flying is so great - you are contained in a big cylinder with such a random mix of humanity; a never-ending source of "scope for imagination" there is in an airplane.
My first impression upon walking outside the airport was the temperature. Much to my surprise, I had left the land of three-digit temperatures behind and was now experiencing....64 degrees? No! Yes! Very happy about this.
I hadn't eaten in about nine hours, so the first order of business was to find something to eat. I drove a couple of miles up the road to The Coffee Company. The place had a pleasant hecticness about it, including a line that stretched out the door; this boded well, I thought. The fact that they squeeze their orange juice fresh every morning didn't hurt their standing in my eyes, either. I was seated quickly and waited on in a most efficient and friendly manner, and in no time at all, found myself with a big plate of Belgian waffle (seasoned with a bit of nutmeg!), eggs over-easy and spicy chicken sausage, served split and fried until crisp and brown and bursting with juicy goodness. Paired with that fresh-squeezed orange juice, it was disposed of in short order, and thus fortified, I set off.
First thing I noticed about L.A.? The stories about the traffic are not fabrications. Nor are the stories about the smog. Both are pretty horrendous. The smog is sad, too, because I think the views would be spectacular were the air not constantly clouded with pollution. The L.A. I have seen thus far is not a pretty town. Big, yes, and a bit grubby; rough around the edges. I don't doubt it has its charms, though, if one knows where to look.
Anyway, I was on my way to Santa Monica, heading towards the Getty Center - one of the most spectacular art museums in the world. I remembered reading in Architectural Digest years ago when the new campus opened, and it made enough of an impression that it seemed like a worthwhile destination this weekend. The museum is housed in an utterly spectacular complex designed and built by Richard Meier over the course of 23 years, and completed in 1997. I have never been left breathless by architecture; I was today. I've never been a huge fan of modern design, always seen it as a bit cold; I saw today what it can accomplish in the hands of a master. The pure, clean geometry of form went on and on and on; every line and shadow and surface and angle served to delight and surprise, and there was just no end. My eyes couldn't drink enough. It's a little hard to put into words; I almost felt giddy.
This really was exceptional, the way the shadow of the building added to the composition of the space.
My camera didn't capture it well, but another spectacular manipulation of perspective
Cactus garden overlooking the city
I'm no artist (and if I knew that before I most certainly know it after today) so I don't feel like I can properly appreciate the level of art I saw, even as well as Tunie could, but even my ignorant self recognized and thoroughly enjoyed the art I saw. The museum focuses primarily on European art through the early 20th century; I saw Classical works from the 15th century, 19th and 20th-century Impressionist masters and everything in between - van Dyck, Titian, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, all of the Impressionists - Renoir, Monet, Manet, Cezanne, Rodin, Sargent, Degas, Klimt, Van Gogh, plus countless artists I hadn't heard of (which hardly makes them unimportant). I learned a few things - the influence of the Catholic Church during the Middle Ages was shocking in its power. Whole rooms and eras were devoted to religious works (that and Greek and Roman mythology). Looking at the subject matter and the way that it was portrayed shed quite a light on the history and nature of mankind, and the fallacy of his relationship with God in that sense. Man without God is such a ridiculous creature - so full of pride and ego and utter silliness. He attempts to memorialize how wonderful he is, to make himself look good, and only comes off as pathetic in his vanity. I was struck very deeply with how the Lord must have felt, down through the ages, seeing his Word so abused, and how great his patience and mercy are. And how his wrath must indeed be stored for the day of judgment. That being said, there were some amazing works of art - I loved the sculpture. Some forms were incredibly lifelike; I had to restrain myself so many times - my fingers just ached to reach out and stroke them. I remember one in particular (I meant to go back and get a picture but I forgot) - a marble statue of a man, and the sculptor had so captured the human form, even the muscles above the breastbone rippled, just exactly as they do in real life. The effect was so lifelike that I had to remind myself that this was marble, carved by hand.
I decided I liked the Old Masters better than the Impressionists. The blobs of paint that created Monet's still-life (though still impressive) just couldn't compare to the incredible lifelikeness of a single hand painted by Rembrandt, in my view.
All inlaid
This was created entirely out of tiny pieces of marble, tile and precious stones. No paint.
Ok. Straight up. This guy (guy) was so proud of his legs, the artist had to give them front and center prominence in this painting. Seriously.
I love this. This is a silver centerpiece, depicting a bunch of animals and vegetables, and right there next to the mushroom is...a pickle. That. is. awesome.
All carved wood. Utterly amazing in real life.
Another hoot - his gloves are way too big, so his fingers look longer than they really are. These guys are worse than women.
Because I love his expression.
A couple of cool things about the Getty - first Mr. Getty must have left a heck of an endowment. Admission is free, the place is kept up immaculately, free iTouches are provided for self-guided tours, the place is staffed to the nines, two trams service the parking garage; I can't imagine what this places costs to operate. That, and nearly every bit of this art is right out where you can touch it. Granted all of that staff is standing by to make sure you don't, but if I had wanted to, I could have caressed those centuries-old sculptures or ran my hand over a real, honest-to-goodness Rembrandt. You'd think they'd be more worried about damage, but I thought it was pretty cool that they aren't! It lets a person get up close and personal and really examine something they find interesting.
Anyway, long story short, I spent probably five hours wandering through the galleries, terraces and gardens, stopping every so often outside to soak up the sun and the breeze and the views. After that, I was ready to pack up my sore feet and call it a day.
I stopped for dinner at Fat Sal's. Disclaimer: I really do think it would be foolhardy to eat here more than once in a great while; this food takes unhealthy to a whole new level. That being said, it was so satisfyingly, awfully good. I ate the namesake sandwich: roast beef, mozzarella cheese sticks, onion rings, fries, brown gravy, mayo, all on a toasted garlic hero roll. This was hardly the most lethal sandwich on the menu; I remember one that had cheeseburgers, hotdogs, potato salad, chips, pickles, ketchup and mustard (The Cookout - get it?). Actually, read this menu for yourself. Read and weep. I'm not sure I should be so drawn to big, messy kitchen-sink concoctions, but this sandwich was so sloppily delicious. I sat and ate it at a counter out in the cool evening air, watching the traffic go by, Mexican wrestling blaring in the background. I am afraid my mother would not have approved.
That was enough for one day. I'm stowed away in my room at the Westin, lights of the city twinkling out my window, and, after nearly 24 hours, ready to call it a day.
I'll end with a quote by Henry David Thoreau that I saw today and found rather fitting: "It's not what you look at that matters; it's what you see." Or, in the words of August Rush, "The music is all around us. All you have to do is listen."
It's true.
Even many years ago when we were in LA the traffic was horrendous as well as the smog... love the art museum!! And once again, the very cool adventures of the area... keep them coming!
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