Many readers have emailed me with questions about how to become a writer. To answer their questions, I made a brief but informative tutorial: How to be a Writer. Watch it below.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Reverence to Parking
Our landlord took down the garages of our 90 year old building a few months ago. The garages were small, three connected rectangular boxes housed in a cute little barn-like structure. Each unit had double barn doors, and a parking space in front.
We used our unit as storage, and we had a lot in there. When our landlord informed us that he'd be taking the structure down, we were not only inconvenienced, but saddened that our building would be losing an appendage of its historical design.
His reason for taking it down was to make way for one more parking space. Essentially, he'd be turning the footprint of the garage, and our little back-yard area into a concrete parking lot. He'd even be tearing down a perfectly good tree. All for one additional parking space.
Here in Los Angeles, parking spaces are revered. Like celebrities-of-the-week, or sensational headlines, hot-button issues or national fads, everyone hunts them, covets them, hoardes them, territorializes them. When it comes to parking spaces, we're a demoralized band of zombie paparazzi.
In the case of our landlord, a single parking space holds more value than a useful and aesthetic 90-year old structure.
On the day of the demolition, when the work crew had fully knocked the thing down and swept clean the naked concrete lot, a crowd of neighbors gathered to take in the change.
"How great!" One woman said. "More parking!"
"Cool. More street spots for us," her friend agreed.
"I'm a little sad about it," I said. "I liked the garage. It was a lot prettier than this parking lot."
They blinked.
"I mean, it's not like it didn't serve a purpose. We all used it for storage."
"Ohhh," They said.
I don't believe it is silly for me to mourn the demolition of a building, if even a small one. Los Angeles exhibits much too much ease when it comes to demolishing buildings, and it gives not one thought to history or the aesthetics of design.
Just look at the case of the The Lot. A historic film studio founded by Mary Pickford, and still in good shape and operating as a film studio up to the last minute, it is now, ironically, just an empty lot.
Empty lots are as abundant in LA as parks are in San Francisco and New York. Many of these empty lots become parking lots, as in the case of the burned Basque Nightclub at Hollywood and Vine. The nightclub occupied the Laemmle Building, which was built in the International Style in 1932 by architect Richard Neutra for Carl Laemmle, of Universal Studios fame. Although it had been altered many times and retained few of its original features, it was a hell of a lot prettier than the asphalt lot that sits there now. Sure, a fire that completely destroys a building leaves no hope for its preservation. However, perhaps we could build something equally aesthetic in its place, rather than giving the footprint over to a private parking lot management company. I know these things take time, but I also know that there are no plans to replace the Laemmle Building. So, where Hollywood and Vine was once four-corners of historic, metropolitan buildings, it is now three buildings and a parking lot.
But, you say, parking is valuable in a city dominated by cars. Yes, I say, and therein lies our problem. Perhaps if we expanded our metro system, we could recover our pride, once again placing our values upon city planning and civic design.
We used our unit as storage, and we had a lot in there. When our landlord informed us that he'd be taking the structure down, we were not only inconvenienced, but saddened that our building would be losing an appendage of its historical design.
His reason for taking it down was to make way for one more parking space. Essentially, he'd be turning the footprint of the garage, and our little back-yard area into a concrete parking lot. He'd even be tearing down a perfectly good tree. All for one additional parking space.
Here in Los Angeles, parking spaces are revered. Like celebrities-of-the-week, or sensational headlines, hot-button issues or national fads, everyone hunts them, covets them, hoardes them, territorializes them. When it comes to parking spaces, we're a demoralized band of zombie paparazzi.
In the case of our landlord, a single parking space holds more value than a useful and aesthetic 90-year old structure.
On the day of the demolition, when the work crew had fully knocked the thing down and swept clean the naked concrete lot, a crowd of neighbors gathered to take in the change.
"How great!" One woman said. "More parking!"
"Cool. More street spots for us," her friend agreed.
"I'm a little sad about it," I said. "I liked the garage. It was a lot prettier than this parking lot."
They blinked.
"I mean, it's not like it didn't serve a purpose. We all used it for storage."
"Ohhh," They said.
I don't believe it is silly for me to mourn the demolition of a building, if even a small one. Los Angeles exhibits much too much ease when it comes to demolishing buildings, and it gives not one thought to history or the aesthetics of design.
Just look at the case of the The Lot. A historic film studio founded by Mary Pickford, and still in good shape and operating as a film studio up to the last minute, it is now, ironically, just an empty lot.
Empty lots are as abundant in LA as parks are in San Francisco and New York. Many of these empty lots become parking lots, as in the case of the burned Basque Nightclub at Hollywood and Vine. The nightclub occupied the Laemmle Building, which was built in the International Style in 1932 by architect Richard Neutra for Carl Laemmle, of Universal Studios fame. Although it had been altered many times and retained few of its original features, it was a hell of a lot prettier than the asphalt lot that sits there now. Sure, a fire that completely destroys a building leaves no hope for its preservation. However, perhaps we could build something equally aesthetic in its place, rather than giving the footprint over to a private parking lot management company. I know these things take time, but I also know that there are no plans to replace the Laemmle Building. So, where Hollywood and Vine was once four-corners of historic, metropolitan buildings, it is now three buildings and a parking lot.
But, you say, parking is valuable in a city dominated by cars. Yes, I say, and therein lies our problem. Perhaps if we expanded our metro system, we could recover our pride, once again placing our values upon city planning and civic design.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Unexpectedness of Hollywood
It was a Thursday. We'd both had it with our work days. We both needed sunlight. We both needed drinks. We went for happy hour at Cat and Fiddle, a standard thing to do in Hollywood, and then thought we'd go for a quick walk around the neighborhood. As usual, we stopped in at Space 15 Twenty, a lovely little micro mall/event space (much like the Bedford Mini Mall in Williamsburg, but open air, and with a stronger emphasis on architectural design). Much to our surprise (and unbridled joy) they were serving free beer on tap, and gearing up for a screening.
However, within the first five minutes of the film, we had become totally absorbed by the faux-historical narrative on skateboarding, called Machotaildrop:
Mid-way through, I was near giddy with love for my city. Some say it isn't New York. I say, that's true. It's Hollywood. Fun. Weird. Unexpected.
The place was packed, so we squeezed ourselves into the standing-room-only aisle, and expected we'd stay just long enough to drink our beers and catch a bit of whatever movie they were showing.
 |
| Image by Space15Twenty. |
Machotaildrop is a highly visual and fantastical journey about an amateur skateboarder, Walter Rhum, who realizes his dream of turning pro and riding for the world's greatest skateboard company... Machotaildrop. Set in an anachronistic time and place, Machotaildrop is the greatest skateboard company of its day and the regal and grand sport of skateboarding has been thriving for many generations. Walter's journey serves as a window through which we discover the dark underbelly of what appears at first to be a benign skateboard company.
Mid-way through, I was near giddy with love for my city. Some say it isn't New York. I say, that's true. It's Hollywood. Fun. Weird. Unexpected.
 |
| Image by Space15Twenty. |
 |
| A spectator sports a ManWolfs jacket - the gang of savage skaters in Machotaildrop. Image by Space15Twenty. |
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Free Run Days
I spend most of my days working in an office. I enjoy the work I do, but I do not enjoy being inside. I want to create a life in which I work - that is write, act, or some other creative activity - primarily outside, or at the very least, in rooms with big windows.
Luckily, my current work situation is developing ideas for videos that I then produce. I therefore have the creative liberty to develop and produce ideas that take place under the sun, in fresh air, out in the world.
Most recently, I developed a video featuring parkourists and freerunners (essentially, outdoor gymnasts). I spent half a day driving around Downtown LA scouting locations, and came across the 6th Street Bridge underpass - an aging yet stately open air arcade boasting rows of art deco stone columns. These columns line a long tunnel that leads forebodingly to the river's concrete bed.
Spending a day outside, watching athletes launch themselves off of surrounding walls, leap through the air, and spring into unexpected backflips, was very much in line with the vision I have for my ideal life. I felt exhausted at the end of it (despite having done no flips of my own), but in that way that tells you you've really just lived.
Luckily, my current work situation is developing ideas for videos that I then produce. I therefore have the creative liberty to develop and produce ideas that take place under the sun, in fresh air, out in the world.
Most recently, I developed a video featuring parkourists and freerunners (essentially, outdoor gymnasts). I spent half a day driving around Downtown LA scouting locations, and came across the 6th Street Bridge underpass - an aging yet stately open air arcade boasting rows of art deco stone columns. These columns line a long tunnel that leads forebodingly to the river's concrete bed.
Spending a day outside, watching athletes launch themselves off of surrounding walls, leap through the air, and spring into unexpected backflips, was very much in line with the vision I have for my ideal life. I felt exhausted at the end of it (despite having done no flips of my own), but in that way that tells you you've really just lived.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Depression Era Los Angeles
The following photographs were taken by Herman J. Schultheis, a Disney engineer around the time of Fantasia, Pinocchio, Bambi, and Dumbo. The complete slideshow, as well as a brief background on Schultheis is at The Huffington Post.
The first time I went to the Downtown Art Walk, I spied the brass letters spelling out "New York Millinery" on the tile at the entrance of one of the galleries. "Look! It's a millinery!" I exclaimed. An old, dusty display of ornate hats sat within the glass display to the right. Peering through the door windows, I saw that the retail space is still filled with millinery equipment. The left half of the space is now a gallery and studio co-op. Whether the millinery is still in operation, or just occupies a forgotten space, I don't know.
There was a Snooky back then, too. And she was a carny.
Lloyd Wright, the son of famed architect Frank Lloyd Wright, designed the Yucca-Vine Market, a drive-in grocery store that was owned by Raymond Griffith. The building was erected in 1930 for a cost of $9000. This modernistic sheet-metal building has since been torn down.
See, Los Angeles does have history.
 |
| Employee of the New York Millinery in Downtown L.A. on Broadway. Circa 1937 ( Herman J. Schultheis Collection, Los Angeles Public Library) |
 |
| Men lined up outside a relief office on Flower Street. Circa 1937. (Herman J. Schultheis Collection, Los Angeles Public Library) |
 |
| Man Jen Low restaurant at 309 1/2 Marchessault Street in Old Chinatown. It relocated to New Chinatown after Old Chinatown was torn down to build Union Station. Circa 1937. (Herman J. Schultheis Collection, Los Angeles Public Library) |
 |
| L.A. County Fair visitors take in the Dreamland Circus Sideshow in the fall of 1937. (Herman J. Schultheis Collection, Los Angeles Public Library) |
 |
| Carrying a box of ice, Herman Schultheis heads west towards Ivar Avenue from Lloyd Wright designed Yucca-Vine Market (center) on Yucca Street in Hollywood. (Herman J. Schultheis Collection, Los Angeles Public Library) |
See, Los Angeles does have history.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
A Vision of Future Weekends
The weekend greets me with yellow sunlight splashing through my eastern facing windows. It's, as always, a beautiful day out there, and I envision, along with my lazy morning, a slow few days of late brunches, leisurely wandering, people watching, window shopping, coffee dates.
This perfect weekend, however, doesn't quite exist in Los Angeles. I know, because I've lived it elsewhere, but never here. Here, it is just a vision, a dream, and to become reality it requires one thing: mass transit. A thorough system that can facilitate a weekend of strolling about, exploring new and familiar areas, being a loiterer, a consumer, ending each day with the slight but envigorating fatigue that comes with experiencing a city on foot.
As it is, I must amend my vision to include hours of sitting within the confines of my car.
Imagine the possibilities if the following were real:
Some brilliant mind (specifically Numan Parada, an L.A.-area mapmaker) drafted this wishful map of what LA Metro could be. That is, a system for actually getting people around and about. Not just sort of, but really. A system that everyone would depend on (let alone, know about - I live near the Hollywood/Western red line station and when mentioning this fact, I have, on more than one occasion received the response from fellow Angelenos, "There's a subway in LA?").
Let's compare, shall we? Here is the actual state of LA Metro:
Five lines (the orange one is a bus line and rather ineffective one at that - I know, because I've ridden it) serving none of the most visited areas of LA. See that white space between the green and orange lines? There lie the neighborhoods you want to visit - that is, Hollywood, West Hollywood, West LA, Culver City, Venice, Marina Del Mar, Brentwood, Westwood, Santa Monica, Malibu, Pacific Palisades. How do you get to those neighborhoods? You drive. That is, if sitting in traffic can be called driving.
There are people and organizations in LA working toward building a campaign for more extensive metro. And, of course, there are people and organizations in LA opposing these campaigns. Their arguments against investing in rail consist of the amount of money it would take (potentially billions of dollars), the 'antiquated' technology of rail, the hazards of digging tunnels in an earthquake zone (does nobody remember the collapsed freeways of 1989) or in the dry desert.
Well, somehow, Moscow did it:
In the planning of the Moscow metro, the results of a 1931 geological survey showed that:
This perfect weekend, however, doesn't quite exist in Los Angeles. I know, because I've lived it elsewhere, but never here. Here, it is just a vision, a dream, and to become reality it requires one thing: mass transit. A thorough system that can facilitate a weekend of strolling about, exploring new and familiar areas, being a loiterer, a consumer, ending each day with the slight but envigorating fatigue that comes with experiencing a city on foot.
As it is, I must amend my vision to include hours of sitting within the confines of my car.
Imagine the possibilities if the following were real:
Some brilliant mind (specifically Numan Parada, an L.A.-area mapmaker) drafted this wishful map of what LA Metro could be. That is, a system for actually getting people around and about. Not just sort of, but really. A system that everyone would depend on (let alone, know about - I live near the Hollywood/Western red line station and when mentioning this fact, I have, on more than one occasion received the response from fellow Angelenos, "There's a subway in LA?").
Let's compare, shall we? Here is the actual state of LA Metro:
There are people and organizations in LA working toward building a campaign for more extensive metro. And, of course, there are people and organizations in LA opposing these campaigns. Their arguments against investing in rail consist of the amount of money it would take (potentially billions of dollars), the 'antiquated' technology of rail, the hazards of digging tunnels in an earthquake zone (does nobody remember the collapsed freeways of 1989) or in the dry desert.
Well, somehow, Moscow did it:
In the planning of the Moscow metro, the results of a 1931 geological survey showed that:
"the nature of the soil would make tunnelling particularly difficult because it consisted of sands saturated with water and dry sands, strata of different clays which permeated with cracked water-bearing and massive limestone, old washouts and quicksand. Many underground rivers were discovered. During the construction of the tunnel section between Sokolniki and Okhotny Ryad alone the miners had to cross four water flows." - see The History of the Moscow Metro.Yet, despite the dangers and hazards, and seemingly prohibitive cost (metro projects were repeatedly dismissed for three decades due to high cost), the thing got made. And it's one of the world's most thorough and effective rapid transit systems (I know, because I've ridden it).
Friday, April 13, 2012
Street Pianos
Play Me, I’m Yours is artwork by British artist Luke Jerram. For three weeks beginning April 12, thirty pianos, designed and decorated by local artists and community organizations, will be featured across Los Angeles County and are available for everyone to play.
Below are some Instagram pics of the pianos sprinkled around Downtown. Check out the website for a map of their locations.
Below are some Instagram pics of the pianos sprinkled around Downtown. Check out the website for a map of their locations.
 |
| Image by Veister. |
 |
| Image by sarahbethrosa. |
 |
| Image by moneyovah. |
 |
| Image by vromansbookstore. |
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Self-Will and the Weather Report
I checked the weather report on my iPhone this morning, like I do every morning. The high was under 70 degrees, and I thought, perfect. I could wear a long-sleeved shirt, slacks, and a blazer - the semi-professional look needed for the audition I'd be attending later.
Most mornings, the iPhone report shows 72 degrees or higher. My wardrobe choices are limited on those days. I don't consider this a problem, though, because I enjoy being warm. I'd rather be warm than look good. Honestly, I would.
I work in a production center with a lot of other production companies. My office is next to the writer's room for a prime time TV show, and we share a thermostat. Apparently, they like to be cold while they lob ideas across a room at each other. They crank the air up, and I sit in my office, watching frost form on my computer screen.
If I have an additional layer with me, then great. I'm comfortable. Really, a blazer or cardigan are in order any day at my office. But on warm days, as soon as I leave the office, beads of sweat form on my forehead instantly - for LA sun does not shine agreeably upon layers.
Yet, I prefer to be outside. Always, in any weather, prefer to be outside, and if I can't be outside, then I want to be moving, rather than sitting. Want to be on location, or on a set, rehearsing, blocking, performing.
Most mornings, the iPhone report shows 72 degrees or higher. My wardrobe choices are limited on those days. I don't consider this a problem, though, because I enjoy being warm. I'd rather be warm than look good. Honestly, I would.
I work in a production center with a lot of other production companies. My office is next to the writer's room for a prime time TV show, and we share a thermostat. Apparently, they like to be cold while they lob ideas across a room at each other. They crank the air up, and I sit in my office, watching frost form on my computer screen.
If I have an additional layer with me, then great. I'm comfortable. Really, a blazer or cardigan are in order any day at my office. But on warm days, as soon as I leave the office, beads of sweat form on my forehead instantly - for LA sun does not shine agreeably upon layers.
Yet, I prefer to be outside. Always, in any weather, prefer to be outside, and if I can't be outside, then I want to be moving, rather than sitting. Want to be on location, or on a set, rehearsing, blocking, performing.
In considering the weather forecast, I see my chosen life. For in art, all weather is fine weather.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
The Fashion District
Ninety degrees on a Tuesday in March. Fruit vendors slicing into watermelons and sliding sticks through mango slices. Rows of colorful trinkets and accessories, neon blouses blowing in the breeze, glittering fabrics catching the sun, none too-shy shop proprietors shouting "Ten for ten dollars! Get it all here!"
It's a colorful of discounts and deals. It's called The Fashion District.
Santee Alley is a narrow alley off of Santee Street filled with over 150 stores selling everything from discount nail polishes to designer knock-off shoes and warehouse clothing. I scored a neon Forever 21 blouse for $15, and had to seriously restrain myself from buying a bunch of $8 metal watches. They were really cool, but I just don't need anymore watches.
I was there to film an episode of The Haul for StyleHaul. I wanted to stay and absorb the atmosphere, drink in all of its frenzy. I think it's time to go on a vacation - I mean, a staycation.
It's a colorful of discounts and deals. It's called The Fashion District.
I was there to film an episode of The Haul for StyleHaul. I wanted to stay and absorb the atmosphere, drink in all of its frenzy. I think it's time to go on a vacation - I mean, a staycation.
Watch The Haul here:
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Silent World
Cour carrée du Louvre
Place de l'Opera
Place Montparnasse
Columbus Circle
Sixth Avenue
Speaking of Obscure Cities . . . "Silent World” is a series of photographs from Paris-based photographers Lucie and Simon. From New York and Paris to Beijing and Italy, these photographs are a depiction of some of the world’s most recognizable and busiest public outdoor spaces vacated and devoid of crowds.
I could look at these all day. And in fact, I have.
You can do the same here.
Monday, April 2, 2012
SAG-AFTRA, One Union
I've been fairly quiet, privately and publicly on the union merger, because, truthfully, I don't fully understand it. And yet, I voted for it. I voted for it, because as a very partially-employed actor who makes a little money under an AFTRA contract here, and a little money under a SAG contract there, the prospect of earning my way into Health and Pension coverage was slim to none. It'd be ages before I'd earn the minimum amount required by either organization. With my earnings coming under one jurisdiction, my chances will be much higher.
Also, I'd be thrilled to be a member of anything that this guy supports:
So now that the merger is official, I am proud that I voted for it. It's a historical moment, and I'm glad to be a part of it. Besides, I've always been a sucker for Hollywood history.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Hosting Hollywood
Two days after The Oscars, I filmed a segment for StyleHaul right in front of The Kodak. I spoke about the uncertain future of the theatre and the Academy, about the history of the Babylonian Arch, and referred, tongue-in-cheek, to my pursuit of a career in acting.
Filming at Hollywood and Highland filled me with a sense of pride for the place where I live, and made me feel even further attached to it, because now I've spoken on camera about my passion for it, and I've had a crowd gathered round, watching and listening. Made up mostly of tourists, they now know that Kodak is removing its name from the theatre, and that the arch is a reference to the history of the site.
I have no intention of becoming a tour guide or docent for Hollywood, but I would so love to host a local Globe Trekker-type show. Maybe I'll become the next generation Huell Howser.
That'd be the dream.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
VIP Oscar Party
I have never been to the Oscars. Nor have I been to a pre-Oscar industry party. I want, badly, to attend both such things. In the meantime, though, I enjoy being a resident of Hollywood during awards season, and witnessing, if only peripherally, the excitement.
Last Saturday night, Joseph and I went for one of our typical evening strolls through Hollywood. We got dinner at Stout, each of us savoring their signature Stout burger, and jauntily sipping a few ales.
Then, we went to Musso and Frank (Charlie Chaplin's old haunt, if you didn't already know) for a good old Martini. The bar was, of course, packed and we propped ourselves up on the divider wall between the bar and the restaurant while we sipped our cocktails. We noticed that a group of people at the bar were in formal attire, and we assumed they'd just come from a pre-Oscar party. They were also trashed. Bow ties hanging half undone, spaghetti straps slipping, updo's falling down. Finally, with much drunken drama, they left and we took their seats, which were littered with wrappings from their swag bags. At first, I pushed it all aside, but then I got to looking. They'd left not just the wrappings, but the swag. The program revealed that they'd been to a fundraiser for cardiovascular disease research, honoring Larry King. I dug up a handful of teas, a sample green tea toner, a sample moisturizer, a sample suncreen, a candle, a $100 gift certificate to a spa, and a certificate for a free facial peel from a different spa.
I felt . . . treated. I love Oscar weekend.
Last Saturday night, Joseph and I went for one of our typical evening strolls through Hollywood. We got dinner at Stout, each of us savoring their signature Stout burger, and jauntily sipping a few ales.
Then, we went to Musso and Frank (Charlie Chaplin's old haunt, if you didn't already know) for a good old Martini. The bar was, of course, packed and we propped ourselves up on the divider wall between the bar and the restaurant while we sipped our cocktails. We noticed that a group of people at the bar were in formal attire, and we assumed they'd just come from a pre-Oscar party. They were also trashed. Bow ties hanging half undone, spaghetti straps slipping, updo's falling down. Finally, with much drunken drama, they left and we took their seats, which were littered with wrappings from their swag bags. At first, I pushed it all aside, but then I got to looking. They'd left not just the wrappings, but the swag. The program revealed that they'd been to a fundraiser for cardiovascular disease research, honoring Larry King. I dug up a handful of teas, a sample green tea toner, a sample moisturizer, a sample suncreen, a candle, a $100 gift certificate to a spa, and a certificate for a free facial peel from a different spa.
I felt . . . treated. I love Oscar weekend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
