Library Pledge: Westwood Public Library

Library: Westwood Public Library

Date: Saturday, October 24th, 2009

I visited this library for a reading by Francesa Lia Block, pesky pixie author of Weetzie Bat.  

I have an author worship problem; whenever I meet a writer whose work I admire I tend to get a little spazzed out... When I met Jonathan Safran Foer way back in... 2006?  I got up to the book signing table, and handed him my book, the Post-it with my name on the title page, and I couldn't even talk.  Couldn't say a word.  I just handed him the book, gave him a wimpy little smile, and walked away.  He kind of looked at me funny... he will be at the Santa Monica Public Library tomorrow talking about Eating Animals.  Maybe I should go and try to not flip out.  But really, has anybody seen Mr. Foer?  I know he's married, but jeez louise.  Can you blame me for going silent? Also, I'm vaguely annoyed about Natalie Portman's recent article on Huffington Post regarding this book; is it really fair for someone to be gorgeous, have kissed Devendra Banhardt, be a genius, and be morally awesome, too?

Anyway, I had the exact opposite effect with Ms. Block when I met her (it was a very small, intimate kind of reading; quite lovely, actually).  I started talking a mile a minute about my niece, my sister, how only the very best boys we dated were Secret Agent Lover Men, a book report my sister did where we chopped all this cheapo doll's hair off so she would have a funky Weetzie-do... ridiculous.  

The library itself is very nice; I have it on good authority that when it rains, because the library has a metal roof, it's quite soothing.  Rainy-day ambiance is very important for libraries, in my mind; this library also has a back window that looks out over a tiny little cemetery.  

The Library List

I have several points to make:

A) You know how when you live in a city, you never go to any of the landmarks in that city?  Like when I lived in San Francisco I never went to Alcatraz or walked across the Golden Gate Bridge or went to the top of the Transamerica Pyramid (though I can't even count the number of times I went to City Lights, which is near the base of the building... sigh.  I've been missing good bookstores... I need to find one here in L.A. Or maybe not.  I might spend the rent check!)  Or when I lived in Big Bear, I never went snowboarding.  And I've never been the Forestiere Underground Gardens.  

B) I love lists.  Don't you love lists?  I love lists because you can check things off of lists.  Sometimes I make lists, and I write "Make To-Do List" at the top so I can cross it off.  

C) People who "do" lists are even more awesome.  Like, people who climb "The Top Seven Tallest Mountains in North America," or who visit every state in the United States, or have acted at least once in every known Shakespeare play.  This kinda stuff kills me.  I feel like it's the epitome of human achievement, even the small stuff, like reading every Jane Austen novel.  There is something so lovely in being complete and comprehensive.

Which brings me to my point.  I have pledged internally, last night, in my Public Libraries class, to visit every City of Los Angeles Public Library in the system.  There are currently 72, two of which I have been to: the Will and Ariel Durant Hollywood Regional Branch, and the Central Library (the cathedral of books...  I want to get married in their atrium...).  This weekend, I will be visiting the Westwood Branch, for a book talk given by three YA authors.  So three down, 69 to go!

I feel so monumental!  So it's not Everest, but I still think it's pretty cool.

Field Trip: Craft and Folk Art Museum

Last weekend, the Smithsonian sponsored a weekend of free admission to museums nationally; this weekend, several Southern California museums followed suit.  Free?  Sounds like a grad school field trip to me!

I chose the Craft and Folk Art Museum, located on (in?) the Miracle Mile.  I've been thinking a lot about the intersections of theory and practice, which always ties into ideas of beauty and functionality for me; craft museums are an excellent place to examine this.  I was very interested in seeing the Myth and Manpower: Graphics and the California Dream exhibit.  There was also an exhibit of the work of Dora De Larios, Suenos/ Yume: 50 Years of the Art of Dora De Larios.

The museum itself is tiny, and slightly (delightfully) incongruous, brick and plaster amongst the buildings of steel and glass up and down Wilshire.  There are three floors, the top two for the exhibits, and a classroom, welcome desk, and gift shop on the ground floor.  The plaster inside is unevenly patched, and the wood floors are worn down in certain places-- much less sterile than most museums-- I felt like this was perfect for the art, which really, is the art of the people.

Dora De Larios focuses on ceramics and sculpture; the fascination of this exhibit is the range of  her pieces, starting in the 1950's, which reminded me of those heavy earthenware bowls to get excited over in thrift stores, to her contemporary work, which focuses on aspects of the goddess and these marvelous ceramic animals.  My favorite piece by her was a metal and wood sculpture from the 1960's or early 1970's, entitled "Warrior."  The figure has his head thrown far back, guarding his body with a shield, and is standing on one leg with a large foot; the other leg is cut off just above the knee.  The awareness of the strength in body in the piece made me very aware of my own body-- just what it is to stand.

The Myth and Manpower exhibit was very powerful; the whole floor is chunked off in bold citrus colors, with floor-to-ceiling text discussing the forms of graphic art.  Sectioned along the wall are pairings of fruit crate labels, sent East to entice migration to California, and UFW-centric protest posters.  Comparing the fairy-tale world of boosterism to the graphic starkness of the silk-screened posters was the perfect bundling of California, the glamour and the glitter thick over this history of oppression and the activism that rose (rises) from it.  The comparison of a fruit crate label close-up of a rosy-cheeked blonde, smiling through perfect teeth (from eating Sunkist fruit, I guess) next to a stark, simple print in the same pinks and blues of Dolores Huerta was a beautiful place to consider that intersection of beauty and functionality, and where each rises from-- which is the commodity, and which is of worth?

Then, to bring it down a notch, I walked across the street to the La Brea Tar Pits.  Blech.  They have this horrible sculpture of a female mammoth being sucked into the tar pit, while her mate and baby watch, their trunks stretched out to her.  This really upset me; I felt really bad for this mammoth.  I know if I was a kid visiting the tar pits, I would just be heart-broken by this scene.  It's worse than Bambi, because you can see the mom sinking away right in front of your eyes, and it's perpetual-- this whole mammoth family is being frantically pulled apart until someone more sensitive is in charge of the pits.  I didn't even take a picture of them-- it made me too sad.  But here's the pits anyway.

And not only are they heart-wrenching, they stink to high heaven.