Town Ordinance 19-4

On a recent trip to a very unusual city called Silver City (Haight Asbury meets Wyoming)… we came upon this sign.In my town (down at the beach) ours just says closed from 10pm to 6am.  Once I met the folks in town…it all became clear 😉

Daylight and it’s hidden secrets

I had a chance, before preview, to take a few shots so the folks who can’t come…can see what makes up this years Halloween theme. This is esecially for Yumiko, an Artist from Anuvue Studio & Gallery, who had brain surgery and is at home recovering. High five and big hug Yumi!
This was a very “Green Friendly” year in that most everything is being recycled in some form. What the kids and adults see at night is created with blacklight paint, extremely minute details that they may never noticed,and a bit of mystery. Here’s a sneak peek in the daylight.

The entrance was made from recycled plywood, donated by our friend Gary, used previously for cement work. It was painted from the “not the right color” section of our local hardware store. I thought it was strange, every time I showed up, they had another can of practically the same color…I swear I have Halloween angels at work 😉

This is the view as you enter.

I simply could not resist these clear tubes… You are looking at command central, where the ship is controlled…and every kid in the neighborhood wants to fly. All the neato controls were gifted by my neighbor Greg who works for KOCE. The channel was clearing out allot of outdated gadgets…just in time for a spacecraft. The edging on the desk is actually the stuff they put along lawns… sprayed silver. I think it looks like metal and is very spacey. 😉

Do not touch signs are an absolute must bring the “touching” down to only “minimal madness”.

What a ship without a lab of bubbling jars with strange things. These aliens are cloning humans…with aliens. I love the doll heads so much, they are going in my house when this is over. They fit perfectly into the washing machine overflow tray I found 😉

Fred and Ethel diligently in their tubes…along with a new 2 headed offspring. All the dials are old hairspray, paint and misc. lids with dial stickers. Anything white glares in the blacklight so they look quite real. All the tubes are cardboard that’s been mitered and heck, there’s even some cookie trays and mac computer box inserts painted silver up there.

Tonight, after second preview night, I’ll take some shots so you can see the transformation at night. We had about 100 guests on Thursday night. One boy was so cute in his hotdog costume. I love bringing the kids in to see the candy and watch their frustration of how to pick just one. With all the do not touch signs, one little boy kept whining “Dad, I can’t touch anything…DADDDDDD, I can’t touch anything…finally I let him touch some of the keyboards on the center table with the baby heads. The next thing I know there are 5 little boys jumping up and down, all trying to all touch the keyboard, all shouting “I want to touch it” !
I asked my friend Jamie to be the “don’t touch” person in the room. She raised 2 kids and her costume has a sword…;)

Too Much Color

Gallery unrelated consumer report 😉

Ok people…is it me? Or is it that we Americans are given too many choices? For instance…You go into a store to buy tea. I happen to drink green tea. In the good old days, I used to go to the store, find my tea, then get the heck out. Well now there’s about 35 different brands of green tea to search through. They really push the stuff now so everyone can be “healthy”. They put allot of “healthy additives” in it to make it taste yummy, screwing it all up until it’s no longer healthy. But…people pretend it still is and drink it with a good conscience. I ask you. Do we really need 35 choices of green tea? Wouldn’t you rather just see the nice pretty box, with Japanese information that you can’t understand, verifying it as the really good stuff. That’s the kind you can feel confident that you have the very tip of the tipsiest part of that dang green tea leaf…you know…just the point! NO. They got to offer bottles and bags and boxes and powders and stuff that looks like grass clippings that have dried up in a lawn mower bag. And don’t get me started on the “flavors”.

Forget tea for the moment and let me really throw you a curve. Jamie and I were wandering through Target on Saturday night trying to find some soap. Apparently I am now allergic to natural soap. I’m not exactly sure what’s left after that. Maybe I should just rub wet sand all over me. Didn’t some tribe do that to keep clean? Anyway, on one of the aisles we went down, I was suddenly rendered speechless. Now maybe some of you already know about this but I guarantee I didn’t. You know the good old product Listerine? I used to sit and watch my Dad swishing that stuff in his mouth until he couldn’t take the taste another second. Well, by God, he would be thrilled to know that stuff comes in every color of the rainbow now. I saw 3 different blues, 2 greens, a purple, a yellow, an orange and I think even pink! They were all lined up at attention, proud as fruit punch, all in the same bottle shape and size. I implore someone to tell me what the heck we need rainbow Listerine for? Are people now trying to match their hygienic products with their bathroom decor? Or is it better to offer more colors for the health of the psyche? Because if so, I’m still waiting for the 3 ply, unscented, peacock blue toilet paper 🙂

Haunting Mariachi

Photography by Photo444

The Doctor Visit

Ok, I haven’t told a story for a while…and well, today, I’ve got one. First, let me begin to tell you folks out there that still think it’s cool to have a tan, forget it. I spent my entire teen years burning…and peeling, burning and peeling, “repeat at will”… and now I’m paying for it. I now walk around with a giant black Joan Crawford hat and Chinese paper umbrellas; with SP…I don’t know…what are they up to…90? ya know…kind of vampirish.. (Not that I have any problems with vampires) Ok… that said. Preaching over.

Today was my “see the Dermatologist because you’ve had this thing on your cheek forever” visit. I actual refer to it as “My little friend” in a Scarface kind of accent. After securing a parking spot…that isn’t all that easy here in So Cal…I finally made it to room 204. When I opened the door to the office, I was greeted by a “spaciously challenged” room…maybe 9 feet wide by 10 feet long. It held a couch, a table and 4 chairs…2 facing 2 others…all shoved in with a shoehorn. There were no windows unless you call the slider door where the receptionist sits hidden with her own air… a window.

I crammed my way inside and saw a disgruntled looking 20 something guy with his equally disgruntled 20 something girlfriend sitting on the narrow couch. They were probably just mad because they now were forced to share their already limited air supply. Well, I did what any normal person would…I signed in for my 10:30 appointment, glared back and took a seat. The receptionist called me and gave me the ever-popular clipboard. It had more papers to sign than the mortgage I currently have and asked me more personal questions that my own husband has ever dared to ask.

While filling papers out, the narrow entrance door opened and in huddled an elderly lady with a large carved cane. She managed her way to the receptionist sign-in sheet and then took the second of the 4 chairs, opposite me…cane extending far into the room. Still filling out my paperwork, the door opened yet again. In came a long, lanky woman in maybe her late 50’s. She apparently was a repeat customer and had the routine down. She promptly signed and sat in the 3rd of 4 chairs, next to me. I had finished the first draft on my future life story and walked back up. It was at this time I noticed two things. One was that everyone signing in had an appointment at 10:30 and that thankfully there was a candy dish…with tootsie rolls. Well, all things considered, figuring trouble brewing, I naturally dug in, took enough to kill the pain and re-took my seat just in time to see the door open again.

In walked a very round, very tall man…with a rather large, round, pink woman behind him…and just as I thought the room couldn’t get any smaller…in came their daughter with the largest Afro I have ever seen in my life! It was at this very moment I started searching this tiny room for the hidden camera. Each person shuffled around, trying to get comfortable in a room where a family of Hobbits couldn’t get comfortable. I noticed the disgruntled guy get up and hi-tail it out into the hallway as quick as he could. He apparently thought it was “him”…or “her”…and he’d chose to save himself.. We all sat, trying not to stare at each other because there wasn’t anywhere to look…and just when I thought it couldn’t get worse…in walked a woman with a rather large incision at her throat with some very nasty looking sutures. I could feel my head spinning.

She signed, sat and stared with the rest. It was about this time my phone began to ring. It’s rather loud and I tried hard to get to it in time to turn it off. That’s when the elderly lady said “that’s a pretty song’…”who is it?”…all eyes on me. I swallowed and mumbled “Staind”. The late fiftyish woman yelled “Sting?”…. to which I had to reply “No, S-T-A-I-N-D”. “Well it’s very pretty…what’s the title?” she asked. I had to tell her “It’s been a while”…, to which I will not repeat the conversations of confusion that title lead to about my “remembering” but will tell you that Afro kid had a big smirk on her face, waiting to see how I’d get out of it. She and I were the only ones to know that the “Pretty song” was written by a recovered heroine addict confessing his life’s low moments…complete with profanity.

In my silence, the rather large, pink, round woman decided to ask each person his or her reason for being there at this momentous moment in time. I was treated to horrific scars, office treatments, surgery stories, chemo advise and just…just as they got to me…an angel with bright blue eyes and a pixie grin opened the second door and yelled “Heather”. I have never in my life catapulted across a room as if shot from a cannon…but I did then. I kissed her hand and said “THANK GOD YOU CAME FOR ME…!” I think she might have even understood.

I was then settled into a room of quite lovely, Zen like, decor. The designer, no doubt, had at one time been left in the waiting room and felt some form of moral responsibility to those who “made it through” boot camp lobby. I found it interesting that a dermatologist has the same type of bed thing you’re supposed to hop up on. The angel asked me the routine questions, “What are you allergic to”…oh so innocently. My smile confirmed she had hit the jackpot. Upon completion I sat there re-living, in my mind, the stories I had just heard in the Hobbit cave until the Doctor walked in and looked at me over her glasses. She questioned me rather bluntly about “my little friend”…”How long?”….“Um, well, a while”…quite a while”… No eye contact. To which she said “Are we talking years?… Hummmmmm…

She put her rather large glass over me with its rather bright light and pulled and prodded my cheek. She pulled her glasses upright and said “We can go about this one of 2 ways”…”I can give you a topical cream and we can try it for 3 weeks…or we can biopsy now…. which could leave a scar”. Now I knew damn well she thought I’d pick the cream being a woman. I replied, “Well, you know… I’ve always looked kinda innocent…let’s chance the scar!”… And finally, a smile. She then did her thing, finally presenting my cheek with a very un-fashionable band aid that could not be more noticeable if it were hot pink and I left with a “thank you very much” getting the hell out. I actually ran the 3 steps I needed to pass the waiting room.

I returned to work and promptly told the boys I was happy to have “Shaved off” a little weight and that I had now provided them with a target for all those rubber bands. My first comment, from a friend was…”Oh, Nice look”… I expected no less…

When I got home I promptly went to the store in search of the “cool band aids”. I had a choice of “Nascar” or “Hello Kitttie”…neither of which suits me. I was looking for a scull with crossbones but selected “Hello Kittie” because I figure I can draw fangs on her…

And, when I return to the Doc’s office, I think I’ll get some use out of my old lawn chair and sit in the hallway until they call… 😉

A little Update

I thought I would give you a little update on the Gallery Opening. It’s really crunch time for me so postings are coming slower. Anuvue Studio is situated in my city where high speed services are quite limited. We are located directly behind a large expanse of natural wetlands and therefore cell phone towers are not available (rightly so). It has been a challenge to find all the features that I’m looking for and has become a chain reaction of events.

We have installed our state of the art flat screens and have utilized all the newest products that the Apple Family has to offer. I wanted to have DSL service (my house 1/4 mile away has it) but it is not available in our environmental position. Therefore my only choice was the local cable tv people. I wanted a package deal with wireless phone, cable TV and Internet. I spent literally hours on the phone and the company has decided to let the studio become a “test pilot” for the new phone service they are not even offering until the end of May. I must have sounded that desperate. The poor agent didn’t even have training on how to write up an order.

From there, it is mandatory by insurance (and frankly I wouldn’t have it any other way) to have an alarm system but one can’t have an alarm system with a phone and one can’t have insurance without an alarm…you get the idea. While I figure all this out, I can’t seal up all the electrical holes in the walls until I know if any of these people need to put yet more holes into my walls.

And to make matters more intricate, all the flat screens and items hooked to them must be dis-assembled and removed so that the drywall guy can do his thing with the finishing coat without ruining alot of electronics. So you see, for every 2 steps forward, we take 1 step back. As you might be able to tell, I have given up sleeping entirely and exist on coffee and cat naps. 😉

On the absolute positive side, my lifelong friend Jamie, is full speed ahead, working on her “Young Rembrandt” art classes for kids (seven and above). She is going to teach everything imaginable. Her list includes perspective, shading, color theory, graphite, charcoal, water color pencils, oil pastels, acrylic paint, creative still life, landscape, life drawing, art appreciation, portraiture, caricature and tromp L’oeil. When I saw her list I said “you go girl”…I’ll be safely down the hall. Let me tell you folks…she CAN do it and all those in her class will be some very lucky kids.

That’s my news. Talk soon. H

Taking Notice

I have been wracking my brain (well, what there is left of it) to find a way to make Anuvue Studio’s new Gallery more noticible from the street. The tenants below me (although gracious and lovely people) have a “less that wonderful” sign (which I would gladly torch, steal, hide or shoot bullet holes into) (just kidding) (not really kidding) attached to my balcony…yes, it’s the only place he/she can actually hang a sign. It has been so since 1972…and who am I to re-invent the world.

So, I thought above this “Less than wonderful” sign, on the equally less than lovely wrought iron in “Baby Blue” (the first color I think of for wrought iron) …I would hang my nice new sign…with lighting…to blast both the blue iron and ug-sign to OZ. Sorry Toto. BTW, I hated those flying monkeys too.

Above my sign, I have 10 windows…and although these windows would be partially blocked (by my sign), if I picked just the right combo of photos that have most of the image on top…I could even enhance the sign with photographics, drawing the eye up…and maybe everything else would disappear…like my money. Hey, it could happen…

Some photos courtesy (stolen rather) from Photo444 😉

This week’s lesson

What a week! Today is March 8th and I finally just got into my new studio. I learned a very valuable lesson about people and business this week. I learned to not trust and to get things in writing. I met my landlord about 2 months ago when I signed my rental agreement. I paid 3 months in advance and he told me the previous tenant would be out by the 1st…no later than the 3rd…and that he would take care and adjust my rent if it ended up the 3rd. Sounded good to me. Now I have, from time to time, popped into the building to measure this and recheck that and have even brought people with me to make some drawings. There are 2 guys, one being the actual tenant and one being his longtime friend, councilor and CPA. These guys are Mormons and both were very nice to me when I initially met them. Then, most of time I re-visited, it would just be the CPA guy there working away, trying to fix the other guy’s financials (because he was losing his business). I grew to really like this guy. He used to work a very unhappy 9 to 5 job (which I understood) and he was humble and sweet. He gave me some brief financial business advise and I designed him a new logo (for his new self employment), printed him some business cards and brought him cookies That I mercifully didn’t make).

On the 29th of February, a long awaited leap year, I showed up at the building, peeked my head in and yelled hello. They were both there on this occasion…along with all the furniture, desks, computers, files and gigantic tv . Nothing had been moved, boxed or organized. I asked what was up and they both said” Is this the end of the month already?” ALARM BELLS GOING OFF IN MY HEAD. Yes, yes it is. That’s when the tenant spoke up and said Oh, we’ll be out of here by the 3rd, no worry. Well, I wasn’t going panic because I had heard that it could be the 3rd. Sadly, I wouldn’t have that weekend to clean. I left after a brief, friendly conversation with the CPA guy, who at that time felt bad and actually gave me his own key. He walked me down to the mailbox to show me where it was while I asked him how his buddy was doing. I’m a nice person, I wanted to be sensitive to the guy losing his business. He had after-all, done alot of work to the room I would soon occupy…I didn’t want to rub salt into the wound.

I left and everyday, I would drive by. This guy has about 50 cases of bottled water on the patio outside the office and I knew when I didn’t see them, he would be gone. I at one time asked him if he was taking it with him (he had gotten it free from the beach games they have in the summer where vendors pass it out). I told him that it could be donated to the Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts but he said he would be leaving with it and I dropped it after that. So I drove by on the second…still water bottles, the 3rd…still water bottles and on the forth day I finally called him. No answer. Later that day he called to say that the guy buying his furniture had not come to get it so he needed to stay until the 5th. It was at this point that I said I would have to call the landlord because he needed to adjust my rent.

Now you must keep in mind…this tenant guy called me on the phone once to warn me that after I had already verbally told the landlord I would take the office, he showed someone else the space…the tenant said “you seem like a nice lady, I just want you to know that this happened. My husband told me to calm down and that the landlord was just covering his rear, in case I backed out because I hadn’t actually signed the contract, just verbally said yes. It wasn’t my deal that the contract hadn’t been signed. It was the landlord’s not coming down with a contract for me to actually sign. He said, no worry.

Anyway, back to why I was willing to trust the tenant. It was because of this call of warning. I felt he was looking after me knowing all the plans I was making and times I had visited with his buddy to measure something. So when I said I needed to call the landlord to tell him…the tenant said no, no need to bother him…I’ll just pay you. I did not want to do this. Everything in me told me no. But that call… I really had no choice when he said the 5th because none of his stuff was gone yet and I couldn’t very well carry it out myself.

Well you guessed it. The 5th came and went and no phone calls to say, I’ll come give you the keys to the space and the bathrooms. I drove by and yes, same lovely water bottles. On the 6th I drove over before work..and low and behold…a moving van!. I went to work happy, knowing this would all be over. No phone call came that evening so I called him. No answer. Tried the next day..same water bottles and same no answer…and no returned calls.

Friday after work and after calling him 2 more times, I went over and let myself in. I saw the tenant’s desks and files and immediately left making sure another 2 tenants saw me leave quickly and with nothing that did not belong to me. I called the landlord. I told him the situation. That his tenant just would not leave and that I didn’t know him, didn’t want to be involved and just wanted him to know that I still had not been able to move in.

Now this is where it gets really good. The landlord told me that once I gave the not-leaving tenant an ok to stay (which I didn’t really, I just never had a choice) and that he had an agreement to pay me, it was my problem to get him out. He said I had a key to let myself in and that I could have asked him to get out and that he (being the landlord had nothing to do with it). His contract was now only with me!

I will give him that one credit. He was right when he said I did not call him on the first and tell him. I didn’t and I didn’t because he told me himself it could be until the 3rd! I was so dumbfounded at this point I know I was yelling into the phone. I simply could not believe what I was being told. That it was my space, the contract was for the 1st and I should have moved in. If I didn’t want the space, I didn’t have to take it and that he would rent it to someone else. I explained that I would never move into a building that had someone else’s belongings inside and he said, well, you should have because it was yours to move into! My contract with him ended and mine began with yours. At this point I decided I was dealing with at least 2 lunatics and started to really wonder if it was all going to be worth it. I got in my car and drove to another building that had just come up for lease, called and was told how much…too much…and too much work.

A friend of mine accidentally called my number and while on the phone, I needed an ear and vented my story. It was at this point he “hostage negotiated” me into calmness. He said to go to the building, change the locks and pack the guys sh– up. He actually told me to toss it onto the parking lot but I’m just not that person (in this life anyway). I called the tenant again. No answer. Then, while talking on the phone to my husband, or rather yelling into the phone with frustration…the idiot chose to call and leave a message. My guess was the landlord called him (and threatened him) and magically he called me back to leave a freaking voice-mail. I immediately called back and you can guess…no answer. I drove over to the building, opened the door for the second time with the key his friend had given me and stood in the space. The tenant’s desks were still there, office junk, computer stuff and many (what looked to me) important personal files… But in those few minutes I allowed myself to walk and really look at the room, a calm came over me. I looked at the space…really looked at it. I knew it was meant for me…even if I almost allowed 2 complete assholes to destroy a dream for me.

I went home and called a locksmith. 😉 At this point I had my husband step in. He was actually working this weekend but he made the call to the tenant warning him that the locks would be changed at 5pm and that he had better get his stuff out and also bring me 8 days of rent…in cash. I waited all day at home for him to call or show up. At 5pm I went to the building and yes, the water bottles, desks and all the other were still there…no call. I hoped at this point the guy was in jail…and couldn’t call. I had the locks changed and never once was I worried about the tenant showing up. I had told the locksmith my dilemma and that I was a bit leery about the guy, knowing changing the locks would piss him off. The locksmith smiled, told me he was one of 5 brothers, all from Israel…Military trained in Special Forces…and I had not a reason in the world to worry. How lovely it was that he came (or was sent to me). And that, my dear readers, was the first laugh I had in 3 days…

Later, my husband and brother-in-law came and we packed all the tenants crap up. I had to talk them out of throwing it into the dumpster…because I really want to dump it on his front lawn…and I will!

After everything was packed, the floors were swept and I looked at the room and I was finally happy. I will, from now on, mail my rent to the landlord without further communication, unless he begins it. He has a job so I doubt I will hear much more from him as long as he can smell his dear old money. As far as the tenant, I will have no further dealing with him..and sadly, nor his friend. One will forever be part of the other’s sins in my memory. This guy was going to be my new CPA but who in their right mind would trust a friend of a jerk with their personal information? Not this gal.

So, if any of you out there ever decide to begin a business of your own, where you are involved in a lease and another previous tenant, be wiser that me. Don’t trust anyone. Get it in writing…because if you behave kindly, you will be run over flatter than a cd! I’m keeping the space because I know this was my test. I know most landlords are probably like Cinderella’s wicked stepmother anyway and that the worst is over. I know that once they have their money, their interest in your problems is harder to find than comfortable heels… so be ready to fend for yourself. I believe very strongly in Karma. So Adam and Alex, watch your heads…because something is coming for you…and I hope you feel it…hard.

But now it’s time for the Artists to have their day. Now is the time to build! 😉

don’t mess with Texas

2 Good-byes

I went to my last Santa Monica Art show. It cost 8 dollars to park and 30 more for 2 people to get inside. I like to think myself progressive and open minded when it comes to art, artists and people in general. I love modern, experimental and performance art as well as all the previous masters, old and new. My home is filled with an array of eclectic pieces that I have both purchased and been gifted. So, upon arrival, when I was faced with a black canvas that looked very much like someone had chewed up Reynold’s wrap and spit it out onto the canvas… which I knew probably wasn’t the case, unless the artist had very good teeth indeed… I moved on with great anticipation.

I saw a really large bed mattress, painted entirely in high gloss baby blue, hanging from a wall with excess paint dripping under and below. I have an intense dislike for baby blue as it is…having had to endure my first home and it’s wall to wall baby blue carpet for a year because I could not afford to change it. To be faced with this was more than I could bare…even though I did marvel at the folks not smirking as they studied it… and I moved on.

I turned corner after corner, trying hard to hold my breath so I wouldn’t utter anything inappropriate….like “utter crap” or “Do they think us fools“. I listened to the “informed” and the “intellectuals“. I observed the scarfed, the hatted, the caped, the outright pompous and bejeweled. I saw phony after phonier trying to look the part of ” Artist” or “Artist Rep“and I won’t even go into what I saw in the ladies room as a woman prepared her “Costume“. I wasn’t even aware there was “A Look“…But what I didn’t see was alot of talent…real exciting new talent!

I watched the gallery owners and reps sitting in chairs, each assembled in their booths, all mindless of the people who had paid to see what was new. They sat madly clicking away on their Macs…God, I wished I’d had my 5D with me. There was so much material I was breathless.

Then I finally came upon something wonderful. It was new and fresh and fantastic. I stood looking at the canvas intensely. I watched out of the corner of my eye as I stood, waiting to be approached, the rep…sitting…doing nothing but holding her cell phone. After minutes, I walked over “to her“. I asked if she was the artist. “No” She told me…”she was the gallery owner” “The artist is_____”, then nothing more. I waited. I then asked about the medium and was given a short, specific answer…then nothing more. I waited. Then I asked if he was local…”No, German” was the reply. I waited. Nothing more. I looked at her and shook my head. I should have said “If you rep someone and you actually paid to get into this place, you probably should actually TALK about the work and the artist you are representing because I may be not be dressed as a Banker, or an Artist or a Movie Star ( I didn’t get the memo), but I may just be a future client“. But no, I shook my head and walked away. I felt a great dis-service towards the artist. I felt his talent deserved better…much better.

As I turned the corner, it was straight in front of me…the one “work of art” that finally made me lose it. It appeared to be a rather poor interpretation of Beethoven (or possibly Ben Franklin without glasses) sitting in a most unfortunate garden. I envisioned a brush being handled between toes (after I saw the artist). I can’t actually be sure because I couldn’t see the length of the toes but…I’m fairly certain…

I had to hold my hand over my face to cover up the loudest cackle…while quickly exiting…

While driving away from Santa Monica to head home, I passed a little old surf shop. I got out and shot this. I think the owner of the shop probably spray painted it himself, right on his own wall. I think it was the best piece I saw all day. It made me actual “feel” something. I connected with it instantly. I probably should have told him he had a definite future.