Los Angeles, 2017.
This is my one year, one minute video for the second year in a row.
It includes a last minute trip to El Salvador.
November
Currently reading: Earth's Children series and the Three-body problem, also a series.
Recently watched: Joan Didion. The center will not hold.
Current Netflix gem: Neruda by Pablo Larraín. Bonus: Gael García Bernal.
On my to-do list: The Florida Project.
On my library queue: I'm not your perfect Mexican daughter and What happened (Out of more than 500 people, I'm now position 243)
Most recent life-hack: Buying a 12-cup coffee maker machine.
Drinking: Coffee.
Snacking: apples and caramel sauce. Sometimes almonds.
Writing: Like it's my job!
Wondering: What those white birds at the reservoir are.
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Yayoi Kusama: Infinity Mirrors
Considered obsessive by some and inexhaustible by others, Yayoi Kusama is definitely relentless.
Still actively working at 88, she lives in Tokyo where she continues to create pieces that are larger than life. She is the master mind behind the polka-dot galaxies and the self-reflecting universes. In and with her work, Yayoi Kusama creates worlds that are self-contained and also Instagram friendly.
With a narrative that translates into patterns she uses various degrees of repetition that grow onto alternating and unpredictable media. Her theme is an exploration into the eternal. The cosmos as a philosophy of life.
This exhibition, first of the artist at The Broad, is organized around six Infinity Rooms -her most iconic- but it also includes pieces from her latest to her most recent work. What the Infinity Net Paintings and the Accumulation Sculptures show the Infinity Mirrored rooms manifest. With Happenings, which are from the late 60's, she demonstrates her scope.
Her works on paper offer glimpses of the artist and visuals of her subconscious that are rarely seen. These elements give them a quality of psychological intimacy. Not to imply that the mirrored rooms lack it but personally it is hard to relax when I know I'm being timed (every person gets thirty seconds in each room).
The physical space of the exhibition feels fragmented but there is continuity in the experience as a whole. Kusama sets the stage for different conversations that happen at the same time. They range from mental illness to selfies and self-love in the modern world. The titles of her latest works are not to be missed.
Kusama's work can be described and maybe even explained but it must be experienced. With the help of social media she is becoming a cult figure, the world as a witness in real time. She is changing the Instagram landscape one selfie at a time.
Yayoi Kusama reminds me of this thing that happens with yoga. People may first approach it because of the aesthetics but they end up staying because of the found sense of infinite existence.
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Yayoi Kusama: Infinity Mirrors is on view at The Broad from October 21st, 2017 to January 1st, 2018. Although all advanced tickets are sold out there is a limited number of same-day tickets available first come, first served.
Kusama's is the Broad's second special exhibition. The previous one was Cindy Sherman.
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Autumn
I keep wanting to write about the weather.
About the perceivable changes.
Obvious ones like the color of the trees. Subtle ones like the temperature of the air.
But I never take the pictures so I never write this post.
Yet, I keep wanting to write about the weather.
Chilled mornings. Transitioning to warm coffee.
My sleep patterns and also Archie's.
He hibernates.
During the colder months we all wake up later than usual.
Heinz is the first one though that is not something seasonal.
He takes Archie out for his morning walk.
When they come back Archie gets into our bed so we can snuggle for an hour or until I smell coffee.
I get up and notice the light in the room.
The sun has started to sleep in too.
Something's shifted.
The Jacarandas know.
The purple-flower trees went from naked to green.
Their winter fur.
Evergreens are still green but their bark smell gives it away.
Halloween decorations are out as if to scare people to rush into their hearths.
The synchronicity of it all.
Weather's suggestion of going inside as the year is about to end.
My desk faces a window that I kept fully open in summer.
Half-way closed for fall.
Completely shut during the winter.
The cycle of nature inherent.
My mornings feeling sacred.
Meanwhile, Archie is still asleep.
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Carne y arena
I went to the border today. Somewhere in the desert.
There were shoes. All types. Even little ones. Probably a three-month-old's.
Empty jugs. No water.
A dimly lit sun.
Feeling danger is everywhere.
Fear is real even if reality is not.
Inside it I became invisible. Omniscient.
My state of reality, altered.
Carne y arena is a multi-sensory experience.
It is virtual reality and it is a masterpiece.
currently on view at LACMA
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One year
We moved into our apartment one year ago today.
It has been one full year of crossing Sunset Boulevard each time I go outside for a run.
Of running around the Silver Lake reservoir. Home to what I think is a red-tail hawk!
Time feeling slow sometimes. Like I should by now know which one is the Hollywood freeway, 101? 45?
But I as I try to get familiar with the city, I will also try to allow myself to take the time it takes.
I made a video from all the pictures taken with our camera.
It's one minute of what our lives look like right now.
Living and loving L.A.
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The evening show
The Big Red is what my landlord calls the two-story building where Heinz and I live. We rent the lower left corner.
Each morning the sun rises from the bedroom window and sets through the one in the front. The one facing the street.
Pulling up the shades has become an evening ritual. One sunset, full frame.
The dimming sun gives the room a yellow-to-pink hue. I tell myself I should never get window curtains.
A thought I dismiss each night I want to watch a movie.
Wait, what if I hand-painted them?
Nesting.
A few rugs, one ottoman and a footstool would be ideal. A lamp, essential.
The wooden floors and my iconic cerulean couch bring me joy.
The couple of doors that will close during the winter but not during summer? I find it rebellious.
I love this little nook of mine. Proving me each day how life is a subjective experience.
A mysterious one too.
Could discovering my own shadow be the first encounter I had with mystery? Was I intrigued by manoeuvring the body and controlling the projected shade?
A part of me is still is. Although, at 34 it is a different kind of shadow.
My astrologer was explaining to me how all zodiac signs have a shadow. She laughed when I assured her we Leo's don't. I mean we are, objectively, the sun.
Regardless of my sign, I do have one. Anticipating. There is a part of me still convinced that if I worry enough I can outsmart life. It is as exhausting as it sounds.
The Gitta says we have control over our work and actions but no command of the results. Double tap and tag me on this post. I must constantly remind myself to take the seat of the observer because honestly, things simply go better when I do.
When I do, it is a spectacle.
It is a striking display of magic knocking at my front door.
Every day.
A daily evening show.
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Lalaland
Photo by @refugeeinamerica
Medammes et mesieurs,
A modern musical. Let me just repeat that.
[speaks slowly]
aimouddernmeeyouseecal
[Audience applause]
Lalaland makes me want to turn my life into a musical.
In this movie I'm still fifteen.
And by fifteen what I really mean is twelve. I'm a late bloomer. Specifically, I'm referring to the gap between the stages where I was not a girl, not yet a woman. I believe it was Britney who coined the term.
In this movie, my musical, I'm a fifteen-year-old living the life of a thirty-year-old. I may look twenty-five but I'm really thirty-four.
Like Jennifer Gardner in the movie with Mark Ruffalo, I swear some days I get up feeling as if I woke up as my teenage self. And people don't seem to notice.
I play the role of a yoga teacher/writer. I'm married to a german-salvadorean film director. He is as cute as he is talented.
For our 10th year anniversary we go out on a date. Dinner and a movie.
The Vista Theatre is playing Lalaland. My favorite of all time.
I saw the movie for the first time before Christmas, I've been in love with it ever since. I had no idea what to expect other than I'd really liked Whiplash. Enough to make me curious to watch what happens next. Besides, Ryan Gossling is never a bad idea.
The movie [Insert 10,000,000,000.00 "Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes" emojis here] blew my mind. It also blew my soul into tiny thousands rays of multicolored glitter tracing rainbows.
By the way, that was me totally fanning my eyelashes at Damien Chazelle.
The Vista feels like going to the movies, in a movie. It's been around since 1923.
Yes, LA is that romantic.
As romantic as an unannounced John Mayer concert at Hotel Cafe. And wait, is that Dave Chapelle?
[crowd cheering]
Lalaland is not just the story of Sebastian and Mia dancing across the universe in a sequence of scenes that are visually multi-orgasmic. It is also the story if its director, Damien Chazelle.
It is the story of a technically flawless and magic-filled master piece. A boy with a dream. The dream of a boy who is slapping society in the face. Using confetti.
It is both a movie and a city. Like pizza and a beer. My 13 going on 30. Watching it made me feel like it is ok to swirl.
Actually, not just to swirl but to sing and dance.
Uninhibitedly.
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Croissants for breakfast
The best croissants in Silverlake are from Café Tropical. They have delicious freshly squeezed orange juice too. Juice that is not a juice trying to be a hipster juice (insert wink here) Decent-price-stuff.
Within a distance that falls into the category of things I can do wearing my PJ's. It feels like home. I will admit I might be a little bit predisposed to like a place that uses two (2!) of my favorite words as its name.
On one croissant-craving morning I took my order to-go. I drank all the juice on my way back. Next time I should get two. Note to self.
Back home I poured myself some milk, topped it off with coffee. Serious dipping was about to go down.
The soaking treatment is an art form. Too fast and my shirt/face gets splattered, a problem of excess liquids. Too slow and the coffee will melt the pastry, this will detach the piece into said liquids. What remains of the piece make a not-so-nice comeback from the bottom of the mug. #LawsOfPhysics.
I sat down and broke my croissant in two. I grabbed one half and lowered the pointy side into my cup with gliding care. The first bite came with a familiar certainty. It was the best croissant I've ever had. It was so good, it reminded me of the other best croissant I've ever had.
My first time in France was with my sister. We were still in our twenties. It was our first big trip, the one where we discovered we were traveling soulmates.
It was so early in the morning that I can't remember if there was fog or Paris was just being cloudy. The color of the city was definitely grey. Not sad grey, though.
We needed to take a train to Toulouse, it departed from Garde du Montparnasse. At the train station we sat down at a little coffee place. In real need of caffeine and food, we took turns ordering one croissant et un café au lait each. The joy of having the words café-olé come out of your mouth should be enough to make you want to order coffee in French. Always.
The city had been magical. Past the initial cold, I adored Paris from the get-go. I was enchanted by the echoes of its many stories, one for each street corner. I swirled my way through all the major city highlights, used the metro and ate mussels.
Waiting for our train at the table, in that small café I sensed a type of certainty. As sad as I was to leave Paris, something in me was sure I would come back. The questions of how or when were not only unanswered, they had not yet been born. It was a feeling. An unnamable something I did not know I knew. Oh, but I knew.
I dipped my croissant, turned its edge to a brownish grey and had a bite of the best croissant I've ever had.
I swear Silverlake feels like Paris sometimes. Particularly on the days I eat croissants for breakfast.
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Cold Brew & two things.
Cold brew has become somewhat of a fancy term for something that is very easy, simple and uncomplicated.
One will need two things: A cold brewer and good coffee.
Salvadorean Coffee is highly recommended basically because it is THE best.
Granted, people are allowed to think I may be biased but just ask around and you'll see.
El Salvador is mostly popular for its not-so-good things but there are two things for which El Salvador should stand out: great waves and superb coffee.
And it is about time my country starts standing solid on those two rocks.
I don't think it's an overstatement to say that every Salvadorean has a relative living here in the States which I'll admit is just my general impression from having lived there almost thirty years. I grew up witnessing how, through these relatives, some of the American culture would make its way to Salvadorean lands.
It is also not uncommon, when traveling to the States, to bring back certain products one simply cannot find in El Salvador. From organic shampoo to appliances -because there isn't a retailer that sells Vitamix- the normal flow has been to bring stuff in.
But then I moved here.
I moved to L.A. in early April and now it is late November and I can confidently say that I am able to find everything I need, except one thing. This time it is from Salvadorean lands to the American culture, the one thing I can't get here is my favorite coffee in the entire world.
Coffee is the only thing that I keep asking for and bringing back. That can tell you two things, how good Salvadorean coffee is and how attached I am to it.
Macchiato's Honey.
That's the one I use and if you are in El Salvador, you can too.
Now, on to the cold brewing part.
I grind enough beans to make one cup of ground coffee. I put it on the strainer that comes with the brewer, fill it up and then I pour water until it is covered.
I let it sit overnight.
The next morning I get a batch of chocolaty espresso-like coffee that I can be sure will not have any burnt after-taste that sometimes comes from brewing coffee with hot water.
It's so easy that it makes me wonder, could all joys be this simple?
I think my answer might be yes because if you give me two things, my favorite coffee and my favorite city, it makes me feel like I have it all.
I got my cold brewer from Amazon, you can find it here
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