This was actually pretty cool as Art Walk has been happening regularly for something like 13 years, and neither one of us has ever gone. Even though it goes down pretty near our office. (More on this later.)
Dinh is one of those friends whom I can't entirely remember how we met. (I mean, at work, obviously. But I don't recall being introduced, or going through the usual sets of questions you cover when you're first meeting someone. We'd just kind of been in the same circle, and somehow I ended up at a Clinton Fundraiser/Debate Watching Party at her house. And whenever we talk, we discover we have even more things in common. I've had a few friendships like this -- where you pretty much start out in the middle of the friendship -- they're very convenient.)
We decided to start with a little pre-Art Walk Happy Hour at a bottle shop/bar down the street. We had selected this one because they had hard cider -- although I actually couldn't pass up the hard grape soda. Tasty. And the first of several Bad Food Choices I'd make all night. Here's the pre-walk selfie!
Suitably lubricated, we headed out to properly walk amongst the art.
We knew there were lots of galleries and stuff, but we hadn't anticipated all the little craft tables lining the streets. It was the sort of thing you get every day in Times Square -- but, apparently, only once a month in downtown L.A.
Art Walk has an information space set up in The Last Bookstore, which seemed a good place for us to start. Dinh was surprised I'd never been there. It's a pretty nifty space. The bookstore part has actual photo ops in it. Here's one.
The Last Bookstore also has some art space in it -- a few shops/gallery spaces, ending with a particularly wacky one which was steampunk surrealism. Along the way, Dinh and I were both taken with a series of paintings which were beautiful at first glace, but disturbing at second.
We picked up our Art Walk maps. We had looked at the Art Walk website which told us the Food Trucks were two blocks further down the street, and the maps didn't tell us anything different, so we figured we'd head down to the food trucks and stop at some galleries on the way.
The food trucks weren't there. I know what food trucks look like, and they were clearly not there. (Well, one lone taco truck. But we'd been promised trucks. Plural.)
On the other hand, we DID see a restaurant serving all kinds of french fries, so decided that this would be a fine Bad Food Choice for the day. We split some gyro fries (tasty, but a little spicy). Actually, the place was more memorable for the restroom. To your left, a sink. To your right, a urinal. In front of you, a toilet. When you then stand in front of the sink to wash your hands, you notice two things: (1) the world's tiniest mirror over the sink (seriously, it's like someone took the mirror off a make-up compact and mounted it over the sink); and (2) the urinal has a sensor which is activated by your presence, and it flushes behind you. Somehow, this seemed the total right bathroom to experience as part of Art Walk.
We went another block and checked out three galleries of very different quality. The one in the middle had some really nifty stuff in it, which we appreciated in the "this is really cool art" way, and not the "yeah, let me get out my checkbook" way. There was one room of sculptures an artist did, sort of mixed media stuff that was part tribal and part modern and just really feminine and powerful -- and then she also had gorgeous pictures of people wearing the very same wearable sculptures. And I had this (very unusual, for me) moment where I was digging the fact that I was seeing and appreciating this with another woman. I usually don't pay much ... any ... attention to who I'm with when I'm seeing art or enjoying theatre or what have you. But this art was particularly female, and when Dinh and I made appreciative noises over it, it felt like we were "ooooh"ing over the same qualities in the imagery, without having to say anything, because we were coming at it from the same place.
And then we went for dessert. (Bad Food Choice The Third.) A waffle joint -- Dinh had fruit and whipped cream on hers; I had fruit and ice cream on mine. Red velvet ice cream. Onna waffle. That, my friends, is art.
As we walked back toward the office, pushing past crowds looking at the craft tables, past the guys offering free hugs, past more dessert places and coffee places and restaurants I didn't know were there-- through all of that, I was just marvelling at how this existed. Most nights, the neighborhood is a little creepy and deserted after work, but somehow, once a month, there's all this life out here. This is what OTHER major cities have at night, but Los Angeles hadn't really managed. On our doorstep.
Oh, sonofabitch, on our ACTUAL doorstep. Right there -- right across the street from the office -- a corner parking lot full of food trucks. Big ass trucks. High class stuff -- many with flat-screen monitors advertising their treats. And live music. And more craft tables. Forget the art, they got the Lobster Roll truck! And the Grilled Cheese truck! It's a freakin' street party, on a Thursday in January, a half-block from where we park.
Dinh and I aren't sure if we'll ever do Art Walk again, but we are totally in for the Food Truck fest next month.
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