The Skirball Center

When I was in Los Angeles last week, I spent a very enjoyable afternoon at the Skirball Center (located just a little north of the Getty Center in the Sepulveda Pass). The Center was built to celebrate Jewish contributions to American culture, and I was drawn there by an exhibit on early comic book creators, many of whom were Jewish (including Jerry Seigel & Joe Shuster who created Superman).

The comic book exhibit was quite good, with lots of original art (though they didn't allow pictures of that, so I don't have any examples to share) and samples of work from greats like Will Eisner, Lou Fine, Mort Meskin, Jerry Robinson, Mac Raboy, and many others.

But that wasn't all there was to the Skirball Center. They have a large exhibit devoted to Noah's Ark, which is a huge room with the frame of a large ship, filled with all kinds of animal sculptures, models, and toys. Above is one of a rather weird looking bird; below, a giraffe and others peeping out the portholes:

Here's one more of an elephant and his zebra friend (whose haunches can be spun for a rather dizzying effect:

There was also a nice historical exhibit on the various stages of the Jewish diaspora and how they spread both physically and culturally around the world. I was expecting to spend forty-five minutes or so looking at the comic related stuff, and ended up being there for over two hours in order to see everything else, and it was definitely worth it!

A Favorite Painting, 30

Peter Paul Rubens, Dance of the Villagers c1636

It seems to me that if you believe in any kind of spirituality, on some fundamental level you believe in a common bond across time and space between all living (and perhaps non-living) things. This bond contributes to our ability to recognize core elements of a shared humanity and therefore feel empathy for even those whose ways and manners differ significantly from our own. One of the great achievements of art is to make those connections tangible by recording something of the "spirit" of a particular time and place and making it accessible to those who see it even centuries later. Rubens' painting is a great example of that-- translating what was likely a specific local cultural experience into a transcendent moment that remains infused with an almost universally apparent expression of joy. It doesn't even matter what it is that these people are celebrating-- on the most essential level it portrays the capacity of all humans to derive happiness from something as simple as a communal dance; or even more simply, playing together. If the subjects were children, one might dismiss the activity as nostalgia for something lost; but the fact they are adults leads to the more sublime conclusion that, on some level, they are us and we are them, and there's something strangely reassuring in that interpretation.

Thought for Thursday

It's often said that academics and intellectuals tend to be radical in their views (a "fact" which doesn't match very well with my own experiences on college campuses). But here's the eminent French political philosopher Raymond Aron offering a possible explanation for why it may be true, to whatever degree it is:

"The myth of the Revolution serves as a
refuge for utopian intellectuals; it becomes
the mysterious, unpredictable intercessor
between the real and the ideal."

Heroes of the Small Screen, 6

Anybody remember the great TV show Car 54 Where Are You? It was a comedy about New York City cops, created by Nat Hiken (who got his start writing for Fred Allen and after that created You'll Never Get Rich for Phil Silvers) and when I was a kid, I really loved watching Joe E. Ross as Officer Gunther Toody (his partner, Muldoon, was played by Fred Gwynne, pre-Herman Munster). Every kid I knew did a Toody imitation: it consisted of just prefacing every statemnet with "Ooh, ooh!" Why don't shows like this ever pop up on TVLand? Here's a clip:

Wednesday Morning Musing

William James (brother of the novelist Henry) is widely recognized as one of the founders of Pragmatism as a branch of philosophy. Here's a quote from his book of that title from 1907:

"Philosophy is at once the most sublime and the
most trivial of human pursuits... It "bakes no bread,"
as has been said, but it can inspire our souls with
courage; and repugnant as its manners, its doubting
and challenging, its quibblings and dialectics, often
are to common people, no one of us can get along
without the far-flashing beams of light it sends over
the world's perspectives."

Top Five List 090510

This is a little overdue-- the Top Five List from Dr. John's Record Shelf on Mother's Day. Not only is it overdue, but it will likely be the last such list here on the blog until next fall, as we go into summer replacement status with the program (that is, we have a different format, called Dr. John's Idiosyncratic History of Rock and Roll, so I can get away with just playing oldies, which is much easier to program). I hope this will tide you over, if you've become a fan of the feature:

More California Pictures

Every time I've made a trip down to Southern California (three times in the last four years now), I've mentioned to almost everybody that I really hoped to see some live surfing. Although I have no interest in getting on a board myself, the two Endless Summer movies made me really appreciate those folks who can get out there and ride the waves. Anyway, I was disappointed in this regard on my first two trips, but sort of got lucky this last time. I say "sort of" because while I was walking along the beach in Santa Monica I didn't see anything, but then later, from the road above I glanced over and saw this in the distance:

Not exactly like I remember from the movies, but at least now I can say I saw live surfing. Here's a couple of more pictures from the beach that day:

I thought these palm trees looked kind of cool against the bright blue sky. Below is a fancy hotel fronting on the beach (it's called the Casa Del Mar, and must go back to the 1920s or maybe earlier-- it looks like the kind of place where Philip Marlowe would meet a rich client).

I guess I'll have to go back again sometime to see if I can get a better picture of the surfers.

Prettiest Song Ever?

I won't make an argument in support of an affirmative answer to the heading question, 'cause I know there are a lot of contenders for that particular title. But there's no doubt in my mind that this song by Caetano Veloso (one of the architects of the Tropicalia movement in Brazilian rock 40 years ago, and still producing fantastic records today) is a definite contender. I might mention that he also performs this song in a key scene of the Pedro Almodovar film Talk to Her, which is pretty good in its own right. I think you'll like this:

Thought for a Tuesday

Alfred Whitney Griswold (1906-1963) was the President of Yale, so maybe he has a vested interest in the point he makes below. Still, I think it's a valid position, and therefore worth sharing for your consideration:

"In the long run of history, the censor and the
inquisitor have always lost. The only sure
weapon against bad ideas is better ideas.
The source of better ideas is wisdom. The
surest path to wisdom is a liberal education."

Classic Sir Douglas Quintet

It's been awhile since I posted a video of Doug Sahm and the boys. This is kind of cool (apparently from the TV show Playboy After Dark), with the audience putting on almost as interesting a show as the band. "Mendocino" was the last hit by the Sir Douglas Quintet, but their career would nonetheless last another thirty years, and they never stopped making music that was both soulful and fun:

Baseball Stadiums I Have Visited, Part 9

I managed to catch the Angels-Red Sox game last Wednesday night in Anaheim, which means I have material for another chapter in this ongoing series. One difference: I have my own photos to share of the experience (though mostly from the upper deck).

18. Angels Stadium (Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim)

It was a long drive out to the stadium from UCLA (with a stop at the beach in Santa Monica). Since I had time, I didn't take the freeway, and ended up driving through and getting a look at a whole bunch of communities (I'm not clear if they were suburbs of LA or just neighborhoods in LA-- places like El Segundo, Manhattan Beach, Long Beach, Lakewood, and Buena Park). Once I got to Anaheim, it proved to be very easy to find the park, and extremely easy to get a parking spot and then my ticket. The shot above is off the plaza in front of the gates.

Here's the view from my assigned seat (I'd eventually move for reasons explained below). I got there early enough to watch some batting practice and enjoy a really good hamburger (I remember when ballpark food was terrible, but that's one of the great changes that's come with all the new parks). The Angels starting line-up was introduced with the intro to "Spirit in the Sky" playing in the background, which I found just terribly cool. When the game started, I was sitting behind a family whose loyalties were clearly split between the Red Sox and Angels (the mom was wearing a Jason Bay jersey, the dad an Angels cap-- the kids seemed split too). Behind me there was a leather-lunged Angels fan whose voice was like a foghorn right in my left ear (and after 6 hours in the archives watching video with headphones, my ears were a little tender to begin with). When the Red Sox got a runner on in the first inning, I was really pulling for them to pull ahead early so that the foghorn might be silenced (and I should mention, he wasn't yelling anything obnoxious, just stuff like "go Angels," but the volume and virtually constant verbal barrage were wearing me out already at that stage of the game). When Jason Bay came up and hit a two-run homer, I thought that would quiet him down (though it meant the mom in front of me was jumping up and down and razzing her husband), but it only encouraged him to holler louder. The Red Sox were up 4-0 at the end of two and Tim Wakefield looked like he was in control, but then in the third, the Angels came back big time, scoring 5 times to take the lead. It was after that comeback that I decided to seek less boisterous company and went for a walk around the concourse.

Here's a shot from just around home plate on the first base side. You can see the signature feature of the ballpark here out in left center-- a rocky waterfall beyond the outfield fence. There weren't any available seats there (or, I wasn't willing to test the resolve of the usher standing by the aisle) so I moved a little further down.

I ended up finding a seat way out beyond the right field foul pole which gave me a great view of the expanse of the outfield, and surprisingly a good view of the infield as well (another nice feature of the newer ballparks is that they rarely have a bad seat). Although I was further away from teh action out here than in my original seat, the folks around me were a lot less irritating, so I stuck around there through the last few innings. Matt Palmer, the Angels pitcher settled down after those first couple of rough innings and ended up throwing a complete game, and set down the last 19 Red Sox he faced, so the home crowd was happy. Not having a rooting interest in either team, I was able to leave feeling pretty good too-- it was an entertaining game, and the stadium itself was both comfortable and interesting. My only regret at the time was that I couldn't make out the name on one of the retired numbers posted in the right field bleechers (I guessed it might be Jim Fregosi, and sonofagun, when I checked later, it turned out I was right!).

One last picture from that evening. On my way out to the car, I spotted a group of people clustered around this display. As some of you may know, a young Angels pitcher named Nick Adenhart was killed in a car accident earlier this season shortly after winning his first major league game. This memorial was apparently compiled by the fans, with all kinds of mementos surrounding Adenhart's picture. It was kind of moving to see that kind of tribute, and put a nice capper on the evening.

The Last Movie I Saw

While in LA last week, I took the opportunity to catch a foreign film (sadly, such opportunities are rare in SW Montana). I had several to choose from, and at least partly because I liked Y Tu Mama Tambien from a few years ago, picked one that reunited the two stars of that earlier film, Diego Luna (on the left above) and Gael Garcia Bernal (on the right), namely Rudo y Cursi. The film was directed by Carlos Cuaron, brother of Alphonso (who directed the earlier picture as well as the more recent Children of Men), who produced this picture along with the other two titans of contemporary Mexican cinema Guillermo Del Toro (Pan's Labyrinth) and Alejandro Inarratu (Babel). That's some awfully high-powered talent all the way around, and although Rudo y Cursi is kind of low key in its manner of story-telling, the talent certainly raises it above the ordianry. The title characters are step-brothers who work on a banana farm but are discovered by a talent scout who sees them play soccer and brings them to the big city. It's by turns funny and sentimental, but never maudlin. The brothers don't end up being changed much by their new experiences, but in a way are drawn closer together as a result. Along the way, Cuaron has some fun at the expense of vapid celebrity, "traditional" values, and even the drug trade, but one never loses sight of the fact that he is dealing with real human beings, and not caricatures or stereotypes. It's an enjoyable film that surprised me with the various turns in the story, not because they were out-of-the-blue so much as they were more consistent with the way things typically happen in real life (only not so much in the movies), not least in that the characters can do unlikable things and yet retain a degree of appeal and charm because you've come to know them well enough to anticipate and accept their shortcomings as part of the well-rounded whole. Definitely worth seeing, I think, if you get the chance.

Monday's Quote

Given my primary research interests, I think I have to say that author Kurt Vonnegut was on to something with this statement, made in 1974:

"It is the truth: comedians and jazz musicians have
been more comforting and enlightening to me than
preachers and politicians or philosophers or poets
or painters or novelists of my time. Historians in the
future, in my opinion, will congratulate us on very
little other than our clowning and our jazz."

Political Comment

I caught Mario Cuomo on C-Span this morning answering calls from viewers. I miss Mario-- I always thought he was one of the more intelligent and thoughtful (they're not exactly the same thing) politicians around, and it's a little disappointing to me that he never pursued office after losing the governor's race in New York back in '94, or accepted an appointment to the Supreme Court. It's on that last point that he offered a really great comment in response to a caller this morning, addressing the upcoming pick by Obama to fill the seat being vacated by David Souter. This was partially in response to a New York Times article this morning, indicating that Republicans have already constructed arguments against most of the possible candidates. Cuomo offered a mini history lesson on how many justices defied political expectations once they joined the Supreme Court, and he made what struck me as a great baseball analogy about the presumption of pre-judging how anyone will respond to the cases they have not even heard yet. He compared the process of holding hearings, weighing testimony and evidence as akin to a baseball umpire waiting for the pitch to be thrown before actually calling it a ball or a strike. So the key is to pick an appointee who is intelligent and thoughtful (where have I heard those qualities mentioned before?) and who can be trusted to render decisions based on the merits of a case and not ideology. That's obviously a tall order, but assuming that ideology trumps such common sense among the current prospects is probably doing most of them a disservice, and creating an artificial obstacle that demeans the entire system.

A Beautiful Campus

As many of you already know, I spent most of this past week in Los Angeles, primarily to do some research at the Film & Television Archives on the campus of UCLA. It ended up being a productive trip, and will prove beneficial to an article I'm writing about political humor on TV in the late fifties and early sixties (with a focus on the work of Mort Sahl). Anyway, in addition to mentioning how friendly and helpful the staff at the Archives were, I wanted to also mention that UCLA is one of the most beautiful campuses I've ever had the privilege of visiting. I typically arrived early in order to be sure to get a parking space, and that gave me the opportunity in the hour or so before the Archives opened each morning to stroll around and take some pictures. Here are some of those shots:

Above is a picture of the Powell Library, where the archives are located. It's a pretty impressive structure, maybe even more so inside, with large, open reading rooms and some very impressive exhibition space in the center chamber (where there was a very interesting display of "Americanized" views of North Africa in popular culture-- movies, novels, comics, etc.).

This is a shot of the sculpture garden in the social sciences quad. And yes, I think the statue on the left is mooning me/you.

The whole campus is very green and lush, with tree-lined walkways and little gardens. Wouldn't this make for a pleasant walk to class every morning?

This is the hillside meadow that slopes down from the center of the campus towards the athletic fields. A little later in the day, this would be littered with students catching some sunshine between classes.

Last is a picture of the main concourse of the campus. The Powell Library is just to the right; across the way is Royce Hall which is, I believe, the original campus building, and pretty impressive with its arched outdoor corridor (which you can make out on the left). I hate to say it, but the campus where I teach has no central gathering spot like this, and its nice to see students milling about, socializing, reading, maybe just catching some rays-- it gives a real sense of vibrancy to a campus. I know that I felt energized being there just for a few days.

What I Did Thursday Morning

I spent most of this past Thursday morning at the Getty Center, which is a really nice arts complex in the hills just south of the Sepulveda Pass, just north of UCLA (I think it's in Bel Air, but I have to admit that the boundaries of the various communities surrounding Los Angeles seem rather indeterminate to me). Here's a brief video I shot panning across the main garden, which gives you an idea of how nice the weather was as well as a sense of the neat architectural layout of the Center. The buildings in the background house the various galleries-- each one with paintings and decorative arts from a different era of history, with a heavy emphasis on Europe (there is some Asian art there too, but somewhat surprisingly, no American art).



There were a bunch of school groups visiting that morning too, and so the galleries were filled with kids who seemed to be working from checklists provided by their teachers. So I heard a lot of conversations along the lines of "Is that a landscape?" "No, that's a still life." I also saw a couple of kids standing in front of certain pictures practically mesmerized, which was pretty cool; I just wished they had outnumbered the ones more interested in checking items off their list.

Sunday Quote

Perhaps it is natural, since I'm just back from Los Angeles, to be thinking about Raymond Chandler, whose novels implanted an idea of that city in my imagination long before I ever visited. I have to admit that it doesn't quite live up to the that imaginary image, but it comes pretty close (and considering that Chandler's L.A. is over fifty years old, then that in itself is kind of remarkable). Anyway, here's a quote from Chandler that kind of fits in with some of the others recently shared here on the nature of art:

"Without magic, there is no art.

Without art, there is no idealism.
Without idealism, there is no integrity.
Without integrity, there is nothing but production."

California Blogging

It was over 100 degrees driving through Nevada the other day, but it's a nice mild 70 or so here in Los Angeles. As the previous post suggests, I've found some good stuff in the videotape I spent 8 hours poring over yesterday (with another 6 or 7 hours to go today). I spent some time yesterday evening in Hollywood and took some pictures which will have to wait until I return to Montana for posting (I'm just gratified that I found a computer that let me check my e-mail and do this rudimentary posting). This evening, I'm planning to drive down to Anaheim to see the Angels play the Red Sox, then tomorrow I'm going to some art museums and down to the beach. I guess you could say I'm having a pretty good time-- and I'll fill you in on more of the details probably this weekend-- but I wish the traffic weren't so congested all of the time! Oh well, I guess that's more of a reflection of where I usually do my driving (rural Montana) than anything else. So far I've only missed two freeway exits, but was able to right myself and saw something new in the bargain. Again, look for more details on Sunday...

Quote of the Day (Fruits of My Research)

I consider Mort Sahl to be not just a great comedian, but also a highly intelligent commentatator on the American scene (which is a big part of the reason I'm down at UCLA watching old videotape of some of his television appearances). Here's a comment he made in response to a actor Chuck Connors, who asked what Sahl stood for (sorry, I can't bring up a picture on the public-access computer here at the library):

"I think it's incumbent upon everybody who is an artist,

by definition, to give the people the best they have--

for his own sake-- and as a by-product, it will be good

for the community he lives in.... Retain your memory

and protect it; don't accept the double-think in this

country. Remember who you are and what this country

was and watch the drift, see the disparity. Fight the

madness wherever it is."

Hard to believe Sahl was looking at things that way almost 45 years ago! I wish more people had followed this advice back then.

Away for Awhile

I'm heading down to UCLA for about a week of research in the film and television archives there, so there may not be any posts here for the duration of my trip. In the meantime, perhaps regular readers would want to go back and offer some comments to earlier posts, just to keep up the appearance of activity in my absence (?). Let me leave you with this clip from about 1934, with the great W.C. Fields performing the act that he perfected on the vaudeville circuit long before he made his way to Hollywood: