Article by Miranda Seaver

Venue: San José Museum of Art

Featuring: Almost Human: Digital Art from the Permanent Collection

I love my robots.

There’s an Amazon Echo in my bedroom who fills my room with lo-fi hip-hop beats on nights when insomnia has the best of me. There’s a second Echo in the living room – we call her “Computer” to prevent any miscommunication between her and her sister – and a Google Home in my parent’s room. We talk to them several times a day, to ask questions when we’re stoned and curious or hungry to win an argument. It’s a strange relationship between us and our new artificial assistants. Yes, they’ve been proven to listen to their surroundings at all times, so we’ve essentially volunteered to bug our house in the name of Capitalism. But it’s 2019, and that’s just the type of thing people are willing to do now.

This is the world of Almost Human, from the permanent collection of the San José Museum of Art. Black Mirror, eat your heart out.

If you have your finger on the pulse of the SJ art scene, you might notice that some pieces from Almost Human were featured at the San Jose Institute of Contemporary Art a while back, but the exhibit has truly been given the chance to flourish in the new and larger space. They’ve also added some interactive elements, including Ian Cheng’s Emissary Forks for You, a self-described “neurological gym” starring a virtual dog (A Shiba, for those who want the full picture) who guides you through the gallery from the screen of a Google Tango tablet.

I’m always a fan of any art that pulls me from the muck of the everyday, and that’s exactly what happened as I circled the room, head down to the tablet in my hands, and watched in wonder as the environment shifted around me. Each reset of the simulation is a different route, and you could potentially play ad infinitum, following the occasional demands of your tiny pupper until you get bored, or dizzy, or until the tablet freezes like it did for me after ten minutes of wandering. Which doesn’t come as much of a surprise if you consider the limits of basic game design, and it certainly doesn’t take away from the experience as a whole.

What I believe to be the most outstanding, and most relevant theme of Almost Human is the overlap between technology and humanity. It’s seen in more literal ways, such as in Jim Campbell’s duo piece Photograph of My Mother and Portrait of My Father, where he presents two photos of his parents that blur and turn clear following the rhythm of the his body. You can stand in front of both of them and watch his life echo over their own, two generations phasing in and out over each other. It’s like watching life without life. Truly a surreal experience.

I found the most enjoyment, however, in the chance to watch what appears to be technology in the process of learning, and doing so in a way that’s almost childlike. I saw it in Diane Thater’s Untitled (Butterfly Videowall #2), five flat screen monitors arranged in a star-shape on the floor, each showing a single shot of a monarch butterfly. They’ve stretched the shot over all screens, giving the image a disjointed and hazy quality, similar to how it feels to try and recall a memory from infancy. It’s there, yes, but your brain holds it a different way, distorting the image slightly and bathing it in the faint glow of nostalgia.

My favorite work in the whole exhibit is Listening Post by Mark Hansen and Ben Rubin. It’s a massive wall of LED modules on support beams, along with speakers hanging strategically around a near-black room. The piece’s main feature is its algorithms and custom software that pulls data from online chatrooms and organizes them into “movements” that are then displayed on screen and narrated through the speakers, creating a soundscape that travels around the space.

I sat there for a long time, in the dark, watching this massive machine displaying statements from its massive cache of uncensored internet data. At one point it was just spelling, scrolling through letters to make words. I could’ve sat there for a lot longer, if nothing else then to see how much information this software had gathered.

Because, strange as it may seem, we’re rapidly approaching a time when that’s all we can do. We’re in an age where we’re no longer “surfing the web” with chunky desktop computers and cacophonous dial-up modems. Technology is creating a new form of art that feels entirely present to the now, an elusive, yet constantly-present moment that is born, aged, and dead all at the same time. It’s art that’s ageless and constantly evolving. And it’s only going to grow – but into what, I can’t say.

All in all, Almost Human is definitely an exhibit worth experiencing. Bring your Echo if you have one. I bet she’d like it.

Article by Jon Bauer | SAT, AUG 3, 2019, 10PM

Venue: Pier 70, San Francisco, California

Featuring: 2019 Gray Area Festival – Pierce Warnecke Live – ISM Hexadome

Endless Growth (Data Decay v3) is an audiovisual performance by Pierce Warnecke using data to illustrate dynamic ecosystems. Generated from data on population growth, pollution emissions, resource extraction, and global GDPs, this work questions how unbounded growth of humanity is incompatible with our finite planet—it may ultimately result in saturation and irreversible damage. Data Decay is an ongoing series of abstract sonification and visualization works, generated from datasets to convey interconnecting relationships through an audiovisual language.

Article by Jon Bauer | MON, JUL 29, 2019, 8:30PM

Venue: Pier 70, San Francisco, California

Featuring: 2019 Gray Area Festival – ISM Hexadome

From July 25 through August 3, the ISM Hexadome will be presented at Pier 70 in San Francisco in two parts. Each evening we will present the full Exhibition in two distinct Segments, featuring the exhibiting artists as listed.

Article by Jon Bauer | SAT, JUL 13, 2019, 8:00PM – 2:00AM

Venue: The Midway, San Francisco, California

Featuring: IllUM Art.Tech.Music (GAIKA vs. Madam X, The Flashbulb + More)

Article by Małgorzata Stanek

Still in the world, but not of the world
– Adam Mickiewicz from Dziady (“Forefather’s Eve”)

November is a month of solemn and important celebrations in Poland. November 11 is Polish Independence Day and early November is dedicated to honoring the departed. Specifically, November 2 is All Souls’ Day called Zaduszki in Polish. Zaduszki can be translated as “a day of prayer for the souls”. The eve of this holiday is known as All Saints’ Day. On these two days families visit the graves of the departed, lay flowers and light up candles. The cemeteries emanate otherworldly and solemn beauty as the sea of candles flickers as far as the eye can see. The words of Polish Romantic poet, Adam Mickiewicz from Dziady (“Forefather’s Eve”), aptly capture this atmosphere: “still in the world, but not of the world”. There are many folk traditions related to Zaduszki. It is said that on this day the spirits of our forefathers come to inhabit the world once more.

Thus, on November 2 in Lublin, an interesting annual event, now in its third year, is held. Translated roughly into English as “Souls ardently in tears”, it is an open gathering for singing traditional songs accompanying death.

The gathering is open to all, regardless of singing abilities. You are given a singing book – which you can pay for what you will – a token to help the organizers cover their costs. The songs come from traditional repertoire and speak about death and what comes after, they offer a moment to meditate on death and mortality. The lyrics are characterized by solemn beauty. There’s a distinctly poetic feel to them that sweeps you into their meditative mood.

The songs deal with a sense of paltriness of worldly things, show the departing soul saying farewell to their family, the village – they give voice to the dead. Some of the songs are prayers for them. However, the organizers say that while singing the songs, they also think about the living, to help them go through difficult moments. 

One of the organizers thus speaks about the songs: “They are very varied. Some talk about death in a literal way, reminding us about the decomposition which awaits us at the end; other use more delicate comparisons, focusing on the spiritual side of the process. It’s interesting that melodies which are used for these songs aren’t always as clam or sad as you might think. Frequently, we encounter dance tunes and only the lyrics remind us that it’s a song about a death. I think that this ambiguity and changeability of “moods” makes people want to get to know more songs. Every song brings in something new, even though it deals with a subject as old as death.

The group gathered in the cemetery filled with ancient graves – the resting places of people who came before us and are a part of the history of every day. The singing began right after dark. The voices carried above the lit-up graves, resonating with honesty and the sombre mood of the moment.

Even if your own individual singing isn’t particularly good, the group’s shared voice sweeps you away and your voice melts into the others. You distinctly feel a part of a community, it is a strongly shared experience. The organizers highlight that it is an important aspect. One of the initiators of the event recalls that he had to sing such songs alone on the occasion of one funeral he attended and that it’s really difficult because one singer focuses all the ritual tension on him or herself. For this reason, community is important. Moreover, the group of attendees increases every year and the sense that singing gathering rather than a concert becomes stronger every year – say the organizers. 

And even if your singing might not be the best, when it joins the others, what in the end comes through is one voice, singing as one, in honor of the dead. It’s a strongly reflective and moving experience.

Article by Miranda Caravalho

Movimiento de Arte y Cultura Latino Americana – MACLA is a squat building on the tail end of the SOFA District in San Jose that’s painted in shades of steel grey and fluorescent pink. In the first half of the building you’d find the headquarters for MACLA’s programs, from which over 30,000 children, families and young adult get indispensable experience in visual, performing and literary art. But if you go past the first set of doors and onto the second, you’ll find MACLA’s studio with their current solo exhibition: Carlos Rólon’s Classic Tracks: Migrating Rhythms.

Enter the room. It’s not big, but it’s very open, with white walls and vaulted ceilings. But most of the white has been covered up by a mosaic of vinyl record covers, affixed to the wall in lines of faces and names that tower up to make a barricade. They’re mostly Spanish artists. Perhaps you recognize some of these album.

The room can be easily experienced in about twenty minutes. You can circle slowly around the murals and the checkerboard walls of record covers, or maybe stand in strange reverence in front of the sculpture made from working speakers. Or maybe you stray to the back of the exhibit and discover the small party that awaits there.

It’s a traditional travel cart with a spinning disco ball hanging from the woven roof and casting moving fish scales of light across the walls. And below that, embedded into the wood of the cart, is a turntable. There are more covers in small shelves, Ray Barretto, Roberto Blades, and De Todo Un Poco. It’s a weird intimacy, as if you’ve broken into someone’s house for the sole purpose of leafing through their music collection. Eventually you find the record that’s already placed on the turntable – Prince’s Purple Rain.

Play it. Turn it to side B and put it on the blank space in between “When Dove’s Cry” and “I Would Die 4 You”. With such a small space the music fills the room in a massive wave of sound. Others might stop to look, and some might even twist their faces slightly at the sudden noise. Or maybe you’re alone, just you and Prince.

I hope thats the case. I hope you’re alone with the music as your eyes drift again across the towering walls of album covers. These are the songs and artists brought from the culture of migrating immigrants. Every album has countless memories stuck to them like ghosts. A record that may mean nothing to you may have been someone’s first dance at their wedding. It could’ve been what their mother sang to them as a child, or what they heard through a open window as they left their home for the very last time.

When you’re immigrating you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known behind. But the things you’re able to take with you – your music, your clothes, your food and your language – that becomes the type of home that lives in your blood.

My grandmother is a first generation immigrant that spent time as an infant in a Japanese internment camp. Her parents refused to teach her or her siblings Japanese, and when their radio was on it was almost always playing country-western music. With the politics of the time they thought it would be best to keep their heads down and make a new life for themselves.

But when I was a child, she used to take me to the annual Cherry Blossom Festival held in San Jose, where I’d eat shaved ice and pet the dogs under clouds of pink petals. And even now she still makes inari sushi better than any restaurant I’ve ever been to. It’s impossible to miss – she’s definitely held onto something.

And what about you? Do you remember the meals your family made, the ones you learned to make yourself and for your loved ones? Think about the words you spoke to each other, the ones of sorrow and joy, and the stories told to you at night when you couldn’t sleep. And maybe it was a rainy morning, or starry night, or a warm afternoon like the one it was right now – but there was music, wasn’t there. Whether it was a radio or the tinny headphones of an old walkman, it was there and it left a shadow on your heart.

That’s not what’s playing now, though. Right now the synth of Prince is fading, and before the next track starts you lift the needle and put it back in its place. And with nothing else to explore you walk back out into the day, the words that song in your head making your mouth shift into long-lost shapes.

Article by Małgorzata Stanek

Imagine spending a sunny August afternoon in the streets of a charming Old Town filled with colourful stalls, the hustle of bustle of various languages (Polish, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Hungarian, Lithuanian, Slovak) and traditional music. This is what happens in mid-August in Lublin, Poland.

Lublin is a charming city in eastern Poland that has much to offer. Beautiful sites, places of remembrance, pleasant, calm atmosphere, residents passionate about their heritage and many fascinating events that take place all year round when many of the residents as well as tourists gather together in celebration of culture, art and tradition and of a sense of age-old community.

Photo: Bartek Żurawski, Organizer’s materials. The Jagiellonian Fair, main square, Old Town, Lublin.

One beautiful annual event is the Jagiellonian Fair, now in its 12th year. The Jagiellonian Fair is, broadly speaking, a meeting with traditional culture of Central and East European countries in many forms: concerts, workshops, presentations but also direct meetings with another person. The event historically refers to 15th century fairs that took place in Lublin. Lublin, located on the crossroad of trade routes, attracted traders and merchants from various corners of Poland and Europe. The event aims at showcasing the most beautiful, authentic aspects of traditional culture of this area and how it inspires more contemporary forms of art, or how they can engage in a dialogue and draw inspiration from one another.

The event focuses around a craftsman’s fair – wooden stalls scattered around the Old Town erupt with colour. The organizers highlight that unlike in many other similar events, the stalls at the Jagiellonian Fair cannot be simply bought – the artists are hand-picked; the organizers strive to invite only those artists who represent genuine local or family traditions. We meet around 300 of them from various countries (Poland, Lithuania, Slovakia, Ukraine, Belarus, Hungary, this year even Sweden), always kind and eager to tell us about their craft, what drove them to begin, to show and explain the skills. They are happy to answer any questions, they are happy to demonstrate and explain their work, including at various workshops they run.

Photo: Jakub Bodys, Organizer’s materials.

You can learn from them – they are happy to teach us so that the tradition and awareness of it live on. Their stories are varied, interesting and usually do highlight one fact – they carry their crafts in their heart. This openness, honesty and authenticity strongly resonates. As I walk among the stalls, listening to their stories, observing the skills and admiring the meticulous work, work that is the result of absolutely pure passion and love, I feel moved to tears. It is pure delight to meet them and learn what it means to have a genuine passion and love of traditional handcraft, to be reminded of a certain lifestyle, values and to feel like a part of a warm-hearted community.

Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

The variety of items on display (and available for purchase) range from traditional pysanky eggs, lace and embroidery, through decorations (including pająki traditional, spider-like ornaments that used to be hung in households), toys, unique instruments, blacksmith’s wares – and many others. There is much to feast your eyes on – and the stories of the artisans fill the hearts too.

Photo: Gutezk Zegier, Organizer’s materials
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Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

Photo: Gutek Zegier, Organizer’s materials.

Every year, the festival focuses on a different theme. This year, the main theme was lace.

There were several exhibitions dedicated to this delicate and meticulous craft. One, entitled “Her majesty Koniaków lace” featured lace from Koniaków, a village in southern Poland known for its lace-making traditions and even finding new applications for this meticulous art, including g-strings. There was a lace umbrella and lace wedding and cocktail dress on display, among other things. Another lace-focused exhibition was a presentation of the organizers’ field research trip and their interviews with lacemakers. Lace was also the inspiration for a mural that adorned one of the event’s locations – the building where the office of the organizers is located, a delightful, peaceful, green-filled patio where workshops were held during the event. Moreover, a pająk referring to this year’s theme was hung in the ancient entryway to the Old Town – the so called Cracow (Krakowska Gate), an architectural symbol of the city built as part of its fortifications during the reign of Casimir the Great in 14th century. The pająk hung at homes was the guardian of good fortune and providence of the household; hung in the Gate, it brings joy to the city.

This year’s pajak was made to reflect the theme of the Jagiellonian Fair – lace.

Photo: Bartek Żurawski, Organizer’s materials, Cracow Gate – entry way to the Old Town, with pająk.

The Jagiellonian Fair is also very much about celebrating traditional music. There is plenty of music! As we walk among the stalls, for instance, a traditional band may suddenly gallantly surprise you with a spontaneous mini-performance. One of the projects associated with the Jagiellonian Fair is the Jagiellonian Fair Orchestra – open to all enthusiasts of traditional music who also wish to hone their music skills. The Orchestra hold rehearsals throughout the year and perform at the dance parties during the event.

Photo: Bartek Żurawski, Organizer’s materials.

The dance parties are a fantastic opportunity to dance through the night to the tune of lively, fiery music. Sometimes, the band starts going so fast, it becomes hard to keep up! If you feel insecure about your dancing skills, you can always join dance workshops that teach the repertoire played at the parties, but it’s also fun to just hop spontaneously as you like. Trying to keep up with the rhythm can be a real challenge though! Aside from dancing, there are also presentations and workshops dedicated to traditional singing techniques and old song repertoires from various corners of eastern and central Europe.

Furthermore, the bands perform not just at dance parties or in the streets. There are also concerts. One of the concerts is called re:tradition, during which popular performers meet with traditional village musicians, practising authentic traditional music. They rehearse together and learn from one another. The result is an absolutely arresting dialogue between tradition and more modern sounds.

Photo: Bartek Żurawski, Organizer’s materials.

The village singers stand in the highlight, not quite used to stage performances, evident in how microphone-shy they can be at times. They present their musical skills, telling various tales through their art. This year, one of the ladies sang out the haunting, tragic story of the Ulma family – her own relatives. The Ulmas were a family living in south-eastern Poland during the Nazi occupation. They gave shelter to Jews, were denounced and subsequently murdered one early morning – first the Jews, then the Ulmas, including the pregnant mother of the family. Reportedly, she started giving birth at the moment of execution and the baby died too. The song, performed in a traditional singing technique, was a genuinely heart-rending experience.

Photo: Jakub Bodys, Organizer’s materials.

It’s worth noting that re:tradition was performed in the courtyard of the Lublin Castle that served as prison at various times, most infamously during the Nazi occupation. Just before the Nazi withdrew from Lublin in July 1944, the remaining prisoners (around 300) were murdered.

Photo: Jakub Bodys, Organizer’s materials. Raabygg’s concert during the Jagiellonian Fair.

There are also individual concerts featuring foreign bands playing their roots music, or mixing it up with personal ideas and arrangement. This year, the festival introduced the Norwegian Raabygg – a trio of delightful girls. The girls spun folk tales illustrated with their enchanting music. It was an intimate affair performed on a small stage in the Dominican Monastery, a quiet setting, slightly removed from the hustle and bustle of the main artery of the festival. The big stage in Lublin Castle courtyard also featured the Cypriot Monsieur Doumani whose simple but energetic, honest arrangements easily reached the heart and Violons Barbares consisting of musicians from Bulgaria, Mongolia and France who swept us along on a musical journey featuring a combination of music traditions from their countries. All concerts during the Jagiellonian Fair are unique experiences, an opportunity to take in an incredible richness of themes, techniques and approaches. Most of all, it’s always full of heart.

Photo: Marcin Pietrusza, Organizer’s materials. One of the games available at the Jagiellonian Fair Playground, a zone for families to spend quality time together, recalling traditional games.

Other than concerts, workshops, exhibitions and meetings with people and tradition, there is also a place for families to spend quality time together, playing traditional games. The Jagiellonian Fair Playground, located in a huge green area directly below the Lublin Castle, offers a variety of large-scale games, some more familiar than others. Among others, you can play tic tac toe using large wooden noughts and crosses, but there is a variety of other traditional games all families can enjoy – together.

Photo: Marcin Pietrusza, Organizer’s materials, the Jagiellonian Fair.

Article by Khatija Hussain

The Queen’s House is one of London’s most historic buildings and one of the only few remaining in Greenwich, London. This beautifully creamed stone paved palace brings the rich history of the lineage of the royals and how the monarchy was passed onto the Queen today. Some visitors have reported of a ghost that lurks in the Queen’s House, a photo was captured in 1966 of a hand but nothing further has been discovered until 2002, when a worker reported a figure dressed in a grey/white dress passing though the walls.

The Queen’s house was built in 1616 by Inigo Jones for the Queen Anne of Denmark, but it was put on hold once the queen had passed. In 1635, the Queen’s House was finished for Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles I.

Although, Henrietta lived here until 1642, she was able to experience the house before she was sent into exile as her husband Charles I was executed for treason and starting the civil war.

The House holds over hundreds of paintings collected over the years and artwork created recently to celebrate the house’s 400th anniversary. The Queen’s House was closed off in 2016 to be refurbished to match the style of the original décor of the house. Inigo Jones’ architectural design was inspired from his journey from Italy and designed one of the first geometrical floorings along with the stunningly blue Tulip Stairs, which was the first geometric self-supporting spiral stair in Britain. This is where the supposed Queen’s House ghost was reportedly seen.

Each room in the Queen’s House presents paintings of the members that once stood in the house and the finest seaman in Britain. The King’s presence chamber is decorated with royal blue walls and outlined with a rich gold plated carved designs throughout the ceiling and corner of the room. This room hangs the portraits of the king and his courtiers who were royals, philosophers and naval officers.

The top left is a portrait of Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Teddeman. The canvas below is of Vice-Admiral Sir William Berkeley. The top right is Vice Admiral Sir Joseph Jordan and the portrait below is Sir Jeremiah Smith. They were created in 1665/1666.

The gallery has many beautiful artistic works, some created were described as pen paintings displayed in the King’s antechamber. The pen paintings were drawn by the famous Dutch artist Willem van de Velde, the Elder. He was one of the artists to sketch naval battles that he had witnessed. The small room was darkened with grey walls to enhance the sketches and give the viewer a clearer visual of what each detailed mark of the naval ships looked like.

The pen paintings by Willem van de Velde, the Elder were of ‘The First Battle of Schooneveld 23 May 1673’ This was sketched in 1684 (the bottom left). The second sketch was of ‘A Kaag and a Galjoot Close to the Shore with Witte de With in the ‘Brederode’ Leaving the Vlie, 9 June 1645’ (bottom right). The pen painting above was of the ‘The Battle of the Sound, 8 November 1658’. This was fully drawn in 1660.

The Queen’s Privy chamber is filled with portraits of the Tudor Family, the Stuart Family, and the Hanoverians. Each royal family had their turn in ruling England in their own way whilst working with parliament.

The gallery hosted a talk in the Queen’s Privy chamber by a volunteer named James Ears. He delivered a fantastic detailed and informative talk on these three bloodlines. Discussing how each member in these families came to power. The Tudors time was before the Queen’s House and Queen Elizabeth I was just shy of her 70th birthday before she had passed away and remained childless with no one to pass the throne onto. James I of England (6th of Scotland) was next in line for the throne. He was known for being influential and was quick with settling deals with parliament and others. James I was the transition from the Tudors between the Stuarts. The story of how the Hanoverians took the throne continues to be how the monarch is run today by her majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

The Queen’s House last room ends with a very detailed painting on the roof of many influential figures in history. This gallery has so much to offer, it is a lovely day out for taking the family and learning something new about England. The queen’s house is not the only place to visit, with this historical site, the Maritime Museum is nearby along with the Royal Observatory. These monuments are the last original historical buildings left in Greenwich that make up some of the history of London and the current royal family.

Article by Miranda Caravalho

I don’t dream well.

It’s a side effect, I think, of one of six medications I take. When I go to sleep my dreams are usually loud and fast and vaguely upsetting. To put it kindly, a dream journal was never something that interested me. But my close friend has spent the past six months messaging me when she wakes up just to tell me, in whatever detail she can remember, whatever she dreamt about the night before. It’s how, she tells me, she chooses to say “good morning”. So recently, I’ve been inspired to do the same.

But there’s an important quality of dreams: they erode, very slowly, until you’re left with a cupped palmful of rock and silt. As I write this, I had a nightmare earlier in the week that left me shaken for the whole day – and now I can’t remember a single detail about it. I had another dream, a better one, but as hard as I think I can only remember the dining table from my childhood and the color yellow. Dreams dissolve, they evaporate back into the clouds of your subconscious to be mixed up into another strange rain the next time you set your head on the pillow.

And it’s not just dreams, it’s memories too. Think about Won Ju Lim, the artist who made the leap from living in Los Angeles to Berlin, Germany, and found herself almost madly homesick for the place she left behind. So from almost six thousand miles away, Lim made herself another LA from basic materials like glass, light and shadow. But in doing so she made something that wasn’t quite a city, and not exactly a complete work of imagination. What she had done was an amalgamation of dream and memory, a collection of the basic sense stimulation of what, to Lim, made up Los Angeles. That’s how California Dreamin’ was brought to life.

You enter California Dreamin’ through a black curtain. It’s about half the main gallery of the San Jose Museum of Art, which has been completely blocked off from any light or sound from the outside world. What that results in is the chance to walk through someone’s mind and step foot into Won Ju Lim’s own perspective. You can see her city through her eyes, and feel the sheer power of her wanting, her pining for something that may or may not have ever existed.

The exhibit is not without the foggy unreality of dreams. The piece that stuck out the most to me was “Piece of Echo Park”. Its a multimedia sculpture that depicts the mountainside of Echo Park. There are houses. Trees. It’s a fairly realistic topographical depiction of the region, that is, until you circle the mountain range and see it slowly dissolve into what looks like dripping wax. It gives the appearance of the mountain being alive, with a skin of greenery and architecture that covers flesh and blood. It’s both haunting and strangely reminiscent. I think we all know a certain place that just seems to pulsate with life.

California Dreamin’ isn’t a big exhibit, but in its narrowed scope its managed to create a very vivid and refined experience. Though sculptures and projections she has created something that gives the chance for anyone to experience living in another country and longing for your home. There’s no way of knowing how much of what she chose to represent made itself known through the sounds and smells of Berlin in 2002, but it’s undeniable that she focused on what she did for a reason.

And after sixteen years that experience has been brought to America for the very first time. In that time period, things have changed. Lim is now and Assistant Professor and the Chair of Sculpture in Graduate Studies at Boston University. She has homes in both California and Massachusetts. It would be fascinating to take another walk through her mind right now and see what shapes and colors now make up her vision of Los Angeles.

Lim has created in California Dreamin’ a small trip that is absolutely worth taking. It’s one of the first exhibit’s I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing that allowed me to just stand there, looking at nothing in particular, and still be absolutely immersed. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. So why not experience it for yourself?

You’ve spent your whole life living in your dreams, it’s about time you visit someone else’s.

JUN 22-SEP 30: Won Ju Lim: California Dreamin’ | San José Museum of Art, San Jose, CA

Reviewed by Meaghan Alfonso

NOV 17-MAR 31: Opulent Mobility 2017 – An Online Art Exhibit

Disability shouldn’t be a burden or something to look away from. Since 2009, Opulent Mobility’s unique exhibit started with the artwork of A. Laura Brody, a professional costume maker and designer. She first developed Opulent Mobility as a series of artworks before expanding in 2013. Opulent Mobility gives easy access to its audience by posting its exhibits online. And its sound clip descriptions make it incredibly accessible for people who have trouble seeing. For OM’s 2017 exhibit, 9 talented artists have contributed artwork inspired by the world of disability. All of them have created beautifully gorgeous pieces, but I do have some favorites that I will share with you today.

My first artist that I want to share is, of course, A. Laura Brody herself. She has created some inspiring work that represents what it means to have a disability in her own eyes. Her first piece shown is called “The Kali Walker“, and its made of an aluminum walker, re-purposed leather, and hardware. Kali, the Hindu Goddess of time and empowerment, is presented in front of the walker. Also a demon slayer, Kali is such a powerful symbol and embodies what it should mean to people who have a mobility problem. Brody quotes that, “Disability and aging are demonized in our culture as tragedy, weakness, and something to be feared. Kali in her walker represents a different truth—that time catches up to us all, and that strength and ferocity are not measured by physical ability.” The symbolism in this piece shows such wonderfulness and creates an uplifting feeling, that we shouldn’t be scared of the future– of what is to come when getting older.

Fang-Wei Hsu, one of my other favorites, is an illustrator and writer from Taiwan. Her piece, “Flamboyance New Life“, is very elegant yet fragile. Made from an abundance of materials (Aluminum crutch, ribbons, organza, feather, fringes, netting, gold and silver metals, Swarovski crystals, acrylic found objects, LED lights and battery), this piece shows her relationship with disability and her identity being a disabled person herself. Hsu says in her artist statement that, “Art making is not simply an internal conversation or emotional outlet, it conveys my perspectives of life” which I believe is true for most artists. Art mimics life and vice versa, so having pieces being created like Hsu’s is so inspiring to see.

Lastly, Katherine Sherwood’s “Maja“, is aesthetically pleasing and nostalgic in way. This piece is part of a series she has called Venuses of the Yelling Clinic, and painted on the linen backs of Art History reproductions made in 1950-60s. The linen backs are all tiled together, and she has painted a silhouette of a “maja”, so to speak, right on top of the linen backs. Using a yellow and black color palette, Sherwood has created a beautifully large scale painting that is hard to forget. Because it is not extensively detailed, you are able to retain the information given. It is a naked woman laying next to a cane. But who is this woman? Your mind starts to create some ideas of what she should look like, but either way she is beautiful.

The symbolism and creativity of each piece are so different from one another, yet the same. I respect Brody for creating an exhibit that might not be for everyone, but there is definitely a voice in it. I know that I have only talked about a few artists here today, but the the other talented artists are definitely one to check out! Disabled or not, you will enjoy talking a look at these lovely pieces and maybe take something else “home” with you other than the art.

NOV 17-MAR 31: Opulent Mobility 2017 – An Online Art Exhibit