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If we are known, in part, by where we are from, the place from which we originate and where we choose to spend our daily lives, then I am as confused as this gray California weather. La Mirada is a small suburb of Los Angeles, lumped on the outskirts of Anaheim and linked to such other small areas as Fullerton, Whittier and Norwalk. We are a city of semi-trucks, of commuters and small homes from the sixties. What La Mirada has gifted me is a strange fear of those large tankers, those behemoth mothers that haul food and cargo nationally and somehow end up here. In the center of this city is my university, a city unto itself. Little do those truckers know that, as they charge by, stuck in their endless national loop, we are growing, shifting and graduating.
A delightful plug for some happy abstractionistas (abstract painters): Slip opens on May 10th at the Alegria Gallery on Sunset Blvd in Silverlake, CA. An interesting space, a non-profit sharing a space what sounds to be a medical ward for AIDS patients. Check it out as I will when I return from the city.
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