Published October 31, 2009 on LosAnjealous.com

A reduction linocut by artist Dave Lefner. Studio 212, Moulton Ave.

LA is home to the largest art colony in the world. That’s right, the world. It’s one of our city’s best kept secrets. Twice a year, the Brewery Art Association near downtown LA opens its doors to art aficionados, collectors, students, curious onlookers, and those who only wish they could support themselves based solely on creative genius. I fit into those last two categories.

The following photo collection reflects my first experience at the Brewery Artwalk which took place this past Saturday and Sunday, October 24 & 25. It is in no way a comprehensive representation of the work that was on display (the complex boasts roughly 300 work/live studios). But it’s a taste of an authentic, thriving art scene unique to LA—a must-try for all Angelenos. ,

Living Where You Work

Brick: A Blast From the Past
The Brewery is composed of industrial buildings–some dating back to the late 1800s–that have since been converted into lofts ranging between 600 and 6,000 square feet.

An Invisible Wall
Hanging windows make a cozy kitchen in Dave Lefner’s studio.

How Artists Relax
An elevated hot tub (standing nearly 15 feet off the ground) overlooks a nearby rail yard.

Less Talk. More Art.

John Friedericy

A selection (#4) from a 30 piece collection of stone-lithography prints detailing the artist’s process.

Selected work. Piece #5.

Selected work. Piece #30.

Pieces from the collection “Origins Extinct.” Mixed media.

Stump on her process: “I’ve never been able to do abstract art, but I’ve always wanted to. The drips make it feel…loose.”

Composed of over 800 separate ceramic elements, Chuang’s work references symmetry and pattern-making that occur within nature.

Patterson hand-paints each pair with a custom design. Fashionable and functional, the shoes will maintain their look through wear and tear because of a unique property in the paint that bonds it with the leather.

Kaleb Higgins

Lithograph prints and spray paint.

Higgins and Patterson were some of the younger artists I ran into. They shared a studio. Their work is infused with a sense of play.

These seemingly decaying forms are Phan’s representation of Stupas, empty vessels that mark graves in Buddhist burial grounds.

Fin

The next Brewery Artwalk will take place in April of 2010. Don’t miss it!

» Brewery Artwalk (official site)

Published May 1, 2009 on LA2DAY.com

I have a little secret…I hate grilled cheese.

Even as a kid I couldn’t stand it. Warm, oily goo oozing out of slices of limp bread, charred in creamy liquid fat. Really. I’d rather eat pond scum.

But you’d be surprised how many loyal grilled cheese fanatics there are out there. “How can you hate grilled cheese!” they roar. I hem and haw, and postulate that it has something to do with the quality of the ingredients. But the reality is, bread was meant to be airy and thick, not fried and flattened.

Now that I’ve detailed my aversion to this lame attempt at a sandwich, feel free to have a WTF moment as I disclose the following: last Saturday i spent the entire afternoon in the belly of the beast, the 1st 7th Annual Grilled Cheese Invitational.

Believe me, it wasn’t an easy decision. I passed on the event last year, but my fascination with obscure festivals and celebrations of the mundane outweighed my taste buds. And it was worth every voyeuristic moment.

I was greeted by the cheese princess, who rocked a tiara and a cheddar-colored, form-fitting gown. She snatched up my five dollars and stuffed it into her brassiere. In return, I got a cool little bracelet and entry into the mysterious world of bread, butter, and milk curd.

On the inside everything was chaos. People milled about aimlessly. Some had picnics and children. Some had tattoos and hangovers. But everyone seemed to be having fun. I wandered toward the loudest noise, which turned out to be the Mayor of Cheese MC’ing the festivities. He introduced poets and musicians who read sonnets and sang ballads about first loves named Brie and Kaseri, Gouda and Ricotta.

And then the competitors took their places at the grills. There were three different sandwich styles, each with it’s own heat. The “Missionary” sandwich consisted of bread, butter, and cheese. The “Kama Sutra” allowed for any kind of bread, butter, and cheese, plus any additional ingredients. For dessert, the “Honeypot” — sweeter than Missionary, smoother than Sutra.

I’d like to think that by now, I know what I like and don’t like. But I’m willing to try new things. And I was there anyway. So, I elbowed my way up to the grilling station and latched onto a Kama Sutra. It was called “The Bourbon BBQ Porky.” Tender barbeque pulled pork with melted fontina and a little southern slaw on sourdough, lightly browned. If this was grilled cheese, I was ready to revoke my vow of celibacy.

I sampled another sammich. This one was nameless, but mouth-watering. Three types of cheese, two meats, lightly-toasted rye, a pickle, and a roast beef shaving neatly pinned together with a toothpick. And on the side, a thimbleful of Vernors to sweeten the deal.

After about two hours of worshiping the gods of grilled cheese, I was ready to move on. My curiosity and appetite had been satisfied, and I left with a smile on my face. Though I have yet to meet a Missionary I liked, it was fun to dabble in the deviant versions of this cult-classic food.

Story for LA2DAY by Nicole Davenport

Published April 9, 2009 on LA2DAY.com

“All You Can Eat.” A Sin City original that seared it’s way into the hearts and minds of food-lovers everywhere. Simultaneously tempting and challenging, only the purest moderate could resist it’s allure. And when it comes to sustenance, I’m less than saintly.

My party of 13 entered Koreatown under the cover of night. After a couple of perfectly legal u-turns, we reached our destination: Gui Rim Korean Barbeque. Gui Rim is a local hotspot with low prices and no pretense. For $20 you can eat yourself into a coma, and we were ready to indulge.

Platters of raw meat were sashayed around the restaurant for all to see. Most of them landed at our table. Short rib, rib eye, brisket, pork belly, more brisket, baby octopus: we sizzled so much protein you could barely see through the smokey swelter. I spent a majority of the night fighting back tears, tears of joy. The food was sumptuous, the beer continuous, and the conversation boisterous. To ask for anything more would be sacrilege.

After the feast began to wane, we sank low in our chairs, 13 gluttons praying for pardon. The Gui Rim waitstaff took pity on us and hastily brought the check. We waddled out of the restaurant, fat and happy, already anxious for the next “All You Can Eat” excursion.

THE DETAILS: Gui Rim
3977 W 6th St
Los Angeles, CA 90020

Published March 16, 2009 on LA2DAY.com

VENICE, March 7, 2009. Teams gathered at the starting shoot, fresh and eager for the trail. Mushers made last-minute adjustments to their sleds. Dogs took their fill of food and drink, knowing instinctively that proper hydration was imperative to peak performance.

The bark of a bullhorn signaled the beginning of the race. Finally unleashed, hundreds of bodies careened toward checkpoint number one, Baja Cantina by Washington and Pacific Ave.

Using shopping carts in place of sleds and donning costumes instead of parkas, the pack intermittently ran and walked down the Venice Boardwalk stopping at various checkpoints to refuel on cheap beer and boxed wine. A teammate and I took advantage of one of the rest periods to pose for an “action photo.”

Though no one actually wins this Iditarod, Made Of Win (see title photo) made a good case for being crowned race champion. Any team who’s ballsy enough to wear gold lame spandex onesies wins by default in my book.

Partying at the Iditarod is a Dogtown right of passage that may soon become co-opted, if not extinct. Details aren’t released until close to race day and only registered team leaders are privy to the information. But the Venice police got wind of the event much sooner than last year. They escorted us through the course, making sure to let us know when we’d overstayed our welcome. So if you’re like me and you love day-drinking, costumes and athletics, make sure to get in on the action next March before this party gets iced.

THE DETAILS: Urban Iditarod

The 3rd annual Urban Iditarod, which took place last Saturday, March 7, attracted Angelenos of every borough to the colorful streets of Venice Beach. The event was held in tandem with (and in celebration of) the start of the Iditarod, a 17-day-long sled dog race covering 1,150 miles of Alaskan wilderness.

Photos Courtesy VenicePaparazzi.com