Arteries of Memory: Old Lady Regis, A Poem to Be Spoken

My poetry is almost always meant to be spoken. If you read this, do so out loud.

Arteries of Memory

In the coastal fog-mist, which,

Scratching chest along the ground,

Having rose up above the hill, sits, now stuck and confound

To a gridded square block where within the bounds of

Manchester, Sepulveda and Lincoln I found

Myself, or a piece of what I am.

The sleepy old lady, with wrinkled, shaking hands,

Who smoothed the pavement, such a since-eruption, bumpy land,

Though passing in silence, as mostly I’d do,

Now, Old Lady Regis,

I volley a tribute to you.

When wanting a playground to roam uncontained,

You brought me Cavalier poetry, Johnson, Herrick, Faine,

And when words could not settle my hunger,

You brought me and taught me how life quickly can blunder,

If, I like your houses, would fall quickly in line,

Ignoring the beat-engendered Angels’ pantomime,

Then I too would transform from quartz to lime,

Stoned by my own false sense of incline. Rather,

I should self-style my shutters, spatter my door-handle with ambivalence,

For drawing definition from small points of difference,

Can bring the self out, but shut out others’ sense of self,

Old Lady, Regis, you taught me that integrity does not melt,

That waves of airy froth, and gold-hilted corner stones,

Over time recede, and bend, chip, decay and mold,

Back into themselves, but the self can only grow,

And so after photosynthesizing in your character-nursery I know

Just who I am on the basis of who I am not,

By means of interpretation, interaction, and battles fought,

Regis, Old Lady, though you brought me to my knees,

Blood spattered,

Face tattered,

Ready at once to leave,

The faults were my own,

Your experience real and telling,

Sleepy towns, like you,

My lady,

Afford contemplative places of dwelling.

For what more could I ask?

--Ryan Cavalier

Arteries of Memory: Lincoln Boulevard

THERE is a straight line of pavement that links the first intersection north of LAX to San Vicente, the quite and homey street, lined with softly curving trees looming tenderly down the median. It’s the vessel by which the Westside travels north and south and identifies east and west. This is Lincoln Boulevard, the main artery of the west side, pulsing with life as dictated by the clock, littered with cafes and shops, used car lots and tattoo parlors.

But this street is LA; this street is where I began to understand Los Angles and the first landmarks remain secure in my mind. Like an old friend Lincoln introduced me to new places, frustrated me, made me late and yet remains the marker that triggers an odd sense of relief - that “I’m home” feeling. Whether a day of work or weeks apart, when I drive down the hot pavement, I know I’m back.

When I first took the wheel, Lincoln was the front sidewalk where I gathered enough courage to venture further. First it was to the Third Street promenade. “Just say on Lincoln and look out for signs after Pico,” they told me. And I did; and there were. On the way back I saw a scandalous sex store, a pet shop and a blockbuster. On my first Halloween here that scandalous store served my friends and I well; when I got my first pet goldfish, it was this little pet store and on my first trip to Blockbuster this was were I came. Of course, the trip was memorable because, being a good 20 minutes out of the way, I should have looked closer.

These days, small cafes and even the Whole Foods holds special meaning to me. I’ve taken most small veins that trickle west and a few that help me hightail it east. Always though, when I arrive back on Lincoln after trip to Hollywood or even Westwood, a sense of calm takes over as I see the swinging street sign and make out the lettering: “Lincoln”. I’m almost home.

Perhaps the greatest excitement of being back comes after weeks or months away and returning to the LAX airport. From above I look for the In & Out. Maneuvering through lanes out of the airport the glowing pillars tell me I’m home in LA. But my stomach starts squirming with the excitement of truly returning as I drive down the small slope and past LMU and past Figi Way.

It’s not a glamorous road; in fact it’s downright dirty. I will rarely announce my love for the road. It’s littered, crowded with cars and I’ve narrowly missed a few homeless men and shopping carts at night. It’s the railroad track that separates the east west side from the true west; it shows. But I don’t care. Like I said, this is that familiar face who gets on every last nerves but, at the end of the day, remains constant.

When under construction for two years I found the new stoplights between Jefferson and LMU offensive. The light put in place where the road to the 90 carefully jumps over Lincoln disturbed me as well. “Why on earth do they need that?” I wondered. I was slightly reproachful about the new traffic causing bulbs and the changing landscape of the road. Often I considered that the change shouldn’t bother me so much. After all the wide-open space I once knew was now a massive new community. When the trucks disappeared and the smooth road opened up, I found the installations easier to appreciate. I can accept those changes now, but they will always remain just that, “changes”. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that in a town where the landscape is regularly reinvented, but this street, this thirteen miles of urban highway needs to remain - I can't imagine the Westside without such a "landmark".

Arroz y Frijoles - A Reflection

EVERY Angeleno has eaten rice and beans. Individually, or combined, the food-pair sustains a huge part of the world - Asia, South/Central America, North America (by means of burrito), etc. Rice and Beans are BIG into sustaining the globe and its ever-expansive population. When I sit here, in my Westchester home, in all my privilege, reduced to rice and beans by way of frivolity, I feel, at my base, the old Los Angeles, The Olvera Street, the little Mexico - come to me. Maybe I'm over-receptive to the notion that you are what you eat, but sincerely, I feel on par with much of Los Angeles, and the world as a whole, as a result of eating a meager brunch. Imagine what'll happen when I step outside!

--Ryan Cavalier

Photo Credit: "El Paseo De Los Angeles" c. 1841

Zilf's Flikr Photostream

Iconic L.A. at Hidden L.A.

LYNN Garrett meant to mention that she had been running a contest over at Hidden L.A. -- the Facebook Page -- that focused on Iconic Los Angeles. You can can navigate over here for a look.

"Iconic" is a tricky word as it does mean many things to many people -- and run it through L.A.'s meat grinder and well, you get, a "creative" spin on the word. Lots of people did try to pick places (or people) who float in our consciousness as L.A. brick and mortar.

I'm one who tends to gravitate toward "sense of place" because,  even with L.A.'s crazy rate of "modernization" and gentrification, the iconic place has a better chance of outliving the "iconic" "celebutant"of the moment.

One place that made Garrett's finalist list was this: the pocket park slipped in a hidden nook in downtown Los Angeles, its close-up, if you recall, was  featured in the film 500 Days of Summer.

-- L.G.

Andi Edgett -- Genius Loci: My LA: Where Contradictions are Comfortable

storm trooper credit to Chris Hutchison

Jessica Fernandez - Genius Loci: "The View From My LA"

--Jessica Fernandez

Stephanie Park -- Genius Loci

caption: bike path in santa monica

This picture was taken in Santa Monica. I came across this bike path and realized how bike paths and sidewalks are rarely used in this busy city. People are always driving and complaining about the traffic, which I find to be fascinating because if you look at the other cars around you, most of the cars only have one passenger, which is the driver. This bike path really spoke to me in terms of emptiness and this idea of growth. Los Angeles is man made and even at a place like the beach, man had to touch it by building something to it...even if it's a bike path. What place in Los Angeles is really untouched and kept preserved? I can't think of any.

caption: after the sunset at lmu

This picture was taken on Jefferson. I know that it is cliche to take pictures of palm trees, but I felt as if this place was important to my definition of LA because it opened my eyes to LA. I'm originally from La Canada Flintridge, a place where I was sheltered all my life. I always had the notion that my hometown was the definition of LA. I had no idea that outside of La Canada would be so colorful and full of life.

caption: wiltern theatre and wilshire

The Wiltern Theatre has always been a place where I would drive by whenever I go to Koreatown. I particularly like this picture because it gives me a sense of the old LA. If you look behind the Wiltern Theatre, there is a metro station and a new apartment complex. built inbetween 6th and Wilshire. What I found fascinating was how Koreatown is slowly changing and improving its environment and look (gentrification) while a place like the Wiltern Theatre is kept unchanged. I love that. This picture really captures a piece of the old and a piece of the new. Even though I have never been inside the Wiltern Theatre, I definitely feel the spirit of Los Angeles by the decorative building designs that were more prominent decades back.

caption: construction site on lincoln blvd.

I took this picture the other day while I was studying in one of the Leavey study rooms. I looked outside the window and saw how much construction on this particular site has done since my freshman year. What used to be a large piece of dirt slowly is becoming a foundation for what looks like a building. Located right next to Playa Vista, I assume that this place is going to be a new apartment complex. I also thought about how construction never stops. Any piece of land that becomes available slowly vanishes as people continue to grow interest in building and growing this wonderful city of Los Angeles. When I see sites like this after taking this course, I get reminded of the literal spirit of what this place used to be before buildings are actually built on it. I wonder about places like Wilshire, where the Wiltern Theatre is located. What did the surroundings of Wilshire look like before the metro station was built or what the apartment complex was before it was built. Did it look similar to the Wiltern?

caption: americana in glendale, ca

This picture is of the newly built shopping center called the Americana. Visiting a place like this reminds me of the days when it was under construction and even the days when businesses were there prior to the blueprint of this place. Created as the replica of The Grove, I don't know how to exactly appreciate a place like this. When this shopping mall was created, I remember people complaining about their businesses being bought over. I even remember a motel or a hotel that refused to see their business in order for Americana to be bigger. I think that motel or hotel is still there...I guess Americana had to be built around that small area of land. Even though this is the definition of what gentrification looks like, I would have to say that a place like this is cliche as well, especially because this is the type of place where tourists would imagine as LA. To me, it is unfortunate how a place like this does define LA. As a native Angeleno, if I had to close my eyes and imagine how LA would look like, it would look like this...a place that attracts the eye.

Katie Mollica -- Genius Loci: "A Rose for All Occasions"

As I began to prepare for this final blog project I find myself at a loss for new, great, and interesting ideas.  Therefore, "drive!" I told myself. So I did. My expedition led me down Lincoln and onto one of the streets I use extremely often, though have never stopped to look at (something that we all do with streets we frequent).

Rose Avenue - just the name conjured up feelings of historical antiquity for I immediately thought of The Rose Bowl, the Rose Parade, the Tournament of Roses all which take place in Pasadena, far away from where I sat in my car.  The idea then came to me: roses, a special flower, game, and float to many Angelenos, are not just appreciated in the wealthy suburban areas of Pasadena.  People everywhere love, value, and build around the theme of roses; proven right here on Rose Avenue...

Rose Avenue, located just a few miles north of the LMU campus leads travelers in two separate and very different directions: a residential neighborhood to the east and into Venice and its views of the beach to the west. 

***

Creativity led to this sign. Like the game "picture worth a thousand words"? Me too! So when I saw this in the parking lot of Whole Foods (a very trendy and modern grocery store) I found it appealing. It was amusing to see the face of a great president next to the rose, an unlikely paralleled relationship but one that works for city planning, in this case at least.

***

This little shop, located on Rose Avenue, had its door wide open welcoming in any passerby.  I liked this picture because of the colors, the openness, and the sole human in the center.  A woman simply walking by but wearing the same shades as the building she is so cluelessly passing up. The roses here are warm and beckoning, a very casual approach to such a formal flower.

***

This small cafe is on the corner of Rose and Main Street. Asking a man out in his front yard directly across the street from it how long it had been there he replied, "Not sure, but a long time." Though his response was blunt and most likely full of disinterest and sarcasm, the sign itself shows its age.  It's pastel colors and curved lettering looks like it dates back a couple decades. Another clue as to the neighborhood's long time value of their street and the flower it stands for.

***

Heading east on Rose Avenue my car winds up and down the road in between quaint cottage like homes bordering Santa Monica and Venice.  I stop at a light, determined to ride out the avenue for as long as I can, and see a large hill ahead of me.  I venture up it, quite steep and narrow and am interested what lies at the top. To my surprise, the peak was a nice view of Venice, a little league baseball field and an intimate community garden.  While there were many different species of flowers, the rose sticking up in this picture caught my attention.  It was one of few and to me began to substitute the palm tree.  The palm tree has always been the scenic spotlight, the background or foreground in a picture with an amazing view.  This time though, it is the rose that stands for this focal point. 

--Katie Mollica

"L.A. Stories" - Genius Loci -- "The Turquoise Cottage"

 

LOS ANGELES, for all of its blemishes and broken dreams, is still a place full of hope.  It's a place that was built by strivers, those "know how" and "can do" folks whose determination seldom dimmed -- even if their energy or opportunities sometimes did.

Growing up here, during a long long season of painful civil unrest, I saw this optimism persist in small symbolic ways.  The image that sticks with me, even today, is probably to most simply part of L.A.'s wallpaper, something you wouldn't even look at twice. But for me, it locates me instantly --   tells me that I'm home; reminds me of why people worked so hard to get here and gave up so much to stay. The Cottage.

In scores of neighborhoods threaded across the basin, a very particular modest bungalow-style domicile sprouted up like a weed. They were single-family homes with postage-stamp lawns and a little piece of backyard. Often, the prouder owners ran white picket fences around them; those in for the long haul planted lush gardens of hibiscus, star jasmine, birds of paradise. The more ambitious hung hummingbird feeders from the eaves and the occasional swaying wind chime. The most quaint ones, the one's that are engraved on my memory,  were painted the colors of Jordan Almonds, creamy whites or pastels -- pink, yellow, green -- and of course the brilliant "look-at-me" turquoise.

The turquoise cottage recalls  a certain era -- the 50s and 60s -- and with it its promise of self-sufficency and optimism -- and of course a sense of tropical whimsy.  It was the era before L.A. launched into a succession of chapters of protests, riots, white flight, rezoning, bussing -- in other words, a complete re-imagining.

Some things are better, others worse -- depending on what side of the line you stand: But one can still find vestiges of this particular piece of retro Los Angeles and the dream it promised -- stretching from the beach communities to East L.A. Someone's grandmother or great aunt or sister's mother-in-law knows all about a turquoise  cottage that a friend or brother or mother used to live in. A place you would go for tea parties or stand in the sprinklers on a hot day or simply stop and smell the ocean -- its salt and coolness carried on a breeze.

images: culver city, southwest l.a., south l.a. venice, palms,  photo credit: l.g.

Megan McMurtrey -- Genius Loci

-- Megan McMurtrey

Alex Deutsch -- Genius Loci: "And It Was Called Yellow"

Jackie DiBiase - Genius Loci: "My Essence of L.A."

Empowerment

All work and no play.

Sunglasses at the Getty
Photo Cred: Jennifer Rhodes

Nowhere to Grow

LAXadaisical

-- Jackie DiBiase

Claire Ensey -- Genius Loci

This photo was taken at the Promenade at Howard Hughes Center around sunset. It wasn't very dark out yet, but the lights were already brightly lighting up the entire center. To me, this picture is the essence of Los Angeles because of the colored lights, clear sky and tall buildings in the left corner. The neon lights at Howard Hughes kind of remind me of a video game or arcade. Every sign is a different bright color and together it looks vivid and colorful. It reminds me of L.A. because L.A. is colorful and bright, full of excitement and creativity. A shopping center lighted up in this way might be ridiculous in another city, but it is perfect for Los Angeles.

This photo was taken on a street corner in Santa Monica near Third Street Promenade. The pole with the freeway and one way signs, along with the cars and trees in the background are the essence of L.A. Everyone knows that freeways and traffic are a big aspect of Los Angeles. This sign is L.A. to me because there are many of these all over the city and there are constantly "only" lanes that lead to a freeway or main street. There are usually three lanes on streets and arrows pointing in every direction telling you where to go. You don't find this in other cities that aren't as vast as L.A. This particular sign leads to the I-10 highway and Olympic Blvd., two busy areas in the city. The "One Way" sign is also funny because it is typical of how difficult it can be to get around in L.A. by car.

This photo was also taken near Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. It is before you get to the Promenade and right across the street from the newly built Santa Monica Place. This building reminds me of Los Angeles because of the modernity of the architecture. It looks new and abstract, like it could be art. All around the building there are these panels in different colors that you can see some of in this picture. The building is very silver and metal looking, but then there are these colorful columns. It reminds me of the crazy architecture you can see in many parts of L.A. It also reminds me of Santa Monica because it is the Santa Monica Civic Center as it says on the sign. I have no idea what the exact purpose of the building is, but I saw it and immediately knew there was something essential about it.

This photo was taken on Main St. in Venice. I saw it and pulled over to take a picture unexpectedly because I had actually never noticed it before. When I saw it, it reminded me of L.A. because it is a random mural on a busy street. Murals are all over Los Angeles and especially Venice. This one says "you are beautiful" and it's huge. It's weird that I never saw it before because it's on Main St. in Venice, obviously meant for everyone to see. I like it because it's so different and pretty and inspirational. Where do you randomly see "you are beautiful" painted across an every day building on a main street in bright red and white? Los Angeles, of course.

This photo was taken around Rose St. in Venice. It's the side of the building of a pink Hindu Temple. It reminds me of L.A. because it is pink and stands out, but it's also a religious temple. The bikes against the building are also symbolic of Los Angeles because many people ride bikes here.