beyond chairs

in, L.A., stopped at the Eames Gallery.
the three of us are particularly enamored of the Eames'. and one of us wanted to buy a gift for an Eames-obessessed someone.

Ray & Charles Eames are probably most famous, for the Eames chair. But their work in architecture & design influenced an era of design.

Molded plywood. A style light & modular. Or simply modern.
Their influence can be seen by going into EBay and typing in "eames" -- and you will pick up hits described as "eames-style" or "eames-era". From kitchenware to lamps to textile design.















The Gallery had an exhibition of Charles Eames' photos. 100 images. Of the things that inspired him. Took some more pictures-of-pictures. Something I've been having fun with. Because you get to see the photographs, through another lens.

A few more photos over on my Flickr page. Seem especially drawn to images of domesticity.

steve & oscar

the fact that I was in L.A. the same weekend of the Oscars, didn't connect with me, until our drive around Hollywood on Thursday, and K. points out that the red carpet is already set up. I turn, and there, like a huge prop standing on the street corner, is Mr. Oscar.
just like on tv.

that's the thing about L.A. Lots of it is just like TV. It is TV-land, after all. though what you'd never know from watching the Red Carpet pre-Oscar stuff, is that on the other side of the "wall" bulit for the red carpet glamour. is a pizzeria. and a tourist knick-knick shop. and a 24-hour photo. and a quick cash place.




















So we walked around the high-security maze of red carpet set-up chaos. and wandered in front of the Grauman's Chinese theater. checking to see if our feet were bigger or smaller, than the footprints of the famous.















So, as Oscar hovered above. I found Steve's signature & imprints. My hand fit nicely in his. It also fit nicely in Matt Damon's. And my feet were the same size as Henry Fonda's.

colors and bits of other cultures

We took a stroll down Olvera Street in downtown LA.

Also, we missed the Chinese Lantern Festival that afternoon. (Chinatown neighbors Olvera Street). Loved the cross-cultural decorations around the park's bandstand. Red lanterns and papel picado banners.

Papel Picado banners. First, I always want to buy one. But I don't, because, what to do with it? Second, I remember in high school art class, Mrs. O., had us make paper cuts. But I can't remember how mined looked. Or, where it went. Seems fun, to try again.

It was cool & rainy, the sun setting fast. People milled about under umbrellas. We stopped in the Plaza Church, the interior bright white with an altar-wall of gold. Despite the inside shimmer, it seemed especially somber, with dark rain falling outside. People silently praying in pews. The altar outside the church door, lined in lit candles. A serene sight in the evening dark. And busy with kneelers, even in the rain. I wanted to photograph the scene. But, felt, again that internal conflict. Whether or not it is a sign of admiration, or an act of disrespect.















The street's marketplace, lined with little shops, & a middle corridor of stands. It looked like mercados in Mexico. Night fell, and the shops & stands glowed.
















Of course, the colors caught my attention. And I left bearing little bits of Mexican art. Like big red & turquoise cloth flowers. And a pair of silver filigree earrings. With a peacock design.

Hopefully next time, I'll get to visit Chinatown too.

delicatessen & rugelach

something one misses, living in the small midwest, is the option to be able to eat at someplace, like Canter's in Los Angeles. A 24-hour jewish deli, opened in the 1920's.

A. & I spent a Friday afternoon walking about Hollywood.
(while K. was wowing at an interview for new job) we happened to
stop at Canter's. what caught our attention, simultaneously,
was the view from the front door--of a huge pastry case.
sights & smells of pastry goodness drew us in.















the possibility of eating a pink pastry box of rugelach for lunch was upon us,
until we glanced from the pastry case long enough to see that we were inside a deli. A very large one. And popular, it looked. So we sat. And narrowed-down our picks, from a jam-packed menu.
My turkey melt came on fresh-baked rye, crispy from the griddle. With melted velveeta. Caraway seeds crunched under my teeth. Our fries were golden chunks of potato. And an order of the "world-famous" pickles, were too sour for me. A. said they got better, the more of them you ate.
















Above us was a ceiling glass-tiled in fall foliage. All around us were the cafeteria sounds. Bus boys dropping plates into plastic tubs. Water glasses being restocked, clanking around. Muffled kitchen sounds. People asking waiters questions like, How's the Pastrami today?

The longer we were there, and saw the photocopied, framed magazine articles on the walls,
we understood we were sitting someplace...famous. wondered about the movie "deals" that have been made there. or scenes from movies filmed there. famous people. drinking deli coffee, and eating fries.

We ate. And sat out a heavy rain outside.
















Then we went back to the pastry case.
Ordered cinnamon rugelach, an almond horn (filled with marzipan and dipped in chocolate) and some chocolate "rolls". The russian chocolate coffee cake beckoned me, but scared me. As it was only sold by the pound. And it looked like something that might have changed my life. Down a road of dessert indulgence. The chocolate Babka was only sold in whole loaves. And I knew it would kill us with butter, if I took one back to K's apartment. (Babka has been fascinating me for awhile, I keep hoping to have an occasion to make one.)
And really, the options were so plentiful. Buttery, flaky, almond-y, chocolate-y goodness. It was overwhelming. And we left without macaroons, cream cheese rugelach, babka, coffee cake or fresh bagels. But what we left with. Made us swoon, nonetheless.

Our pink box sat on K's kitchen table all weekend. And we'd walk by, open it and pick at the goodies.

A. and I, after a weekend of eating, wondered where all the "california" cuisine was. Because nothing we ate in Los Angeles, would keep us a California-size Zero.