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Late Superbloom

“…and I turned around in that house which was like a shallow garden and all my fears collapsed upon me like a landslide of flowers and I ran screaming at the top of my lungs outside and down the stairs.” – Richard Brautigan 1. At some point I realized most of southern California is the same: the same outdoor strip malls, same plants, same sunlight driving in sideways in the early evening. April is just as boring in Long Beach (where I live) as it is in San Diego (where I used to live). I have lived here, alone, in a room downtown for eight months; my hair has grown four inches. I used to be afraid to leave my window open. I still sometimes sleep with the light on. Living alone in a new city is complicated for someone who loves solitude and people equally. I am still depressed, as I have been since I was sixteen, and it catches up to me at night but in a new, lonely adult way, especially when I’m on the bus headed home, watching neon light streak past the window, stepping off at my stop that’s recently become overgrown with bougainvilleas. When I cross the street to my block, I am caught by the sight of a big pink bush – it’s new, I’ve never noticed it before. It speaks to me. I am tiredly mesmerized, bleary eyed. I stare and wonder what type of flower it is. Rhaphiolepis indica, Indian Hawthorn. Its variety? A “Ballerina”. A Ballerina bush. A sprig of it was carried here from China some hundreds of...

Lita Albuquerque 20/20: Accelerando

Lita Albuquerque’s 20/20: Accelerando tells the story of a mythical space traveler who crashes to Paleolithic Earth. Suffering amnesia, she regains her identity and purpose through communion with unspoiled Nature. Each of the USC Fisher Museum’s three galleries is dominated by a monumental projection showing slightly different versions of Albuquerque’s film, in an approximately 30-minute loop. The work is set to a dramatic score of spoken word and rhythmic beats; the spectacle of theater is in full effect. Walking into darkness from the main entrance, you are immediately confronted by the first of the projections. An extended take of the female protagonist anchors this video. Cropped tight to her face—pale skin with uncanny blue eyes and now big as a house—the projection is framed as a portrait on a free-standing wall. Her bleach-blonde hair flows out to either side, spilling on to the gallery wall behind. The result shifts between flatness and form. The left gallery houses an installation: a deep field of salt stretches from the screen forward into the room. The field is dotted with Albuquerque’s signature globes; larger, more complex, glass apparatuses stand individually and a paper scroll of cryptic writing splits the field. The feeling is alchemical. To the right, a single projection fills a floor-to-ceiling wall set diagonal to the space. The only light is the video. Thematically and visually, Accelerando culls liberally from the totems of the New Age: sacred geometry, cosmic consciousness, ancient astronauts, neo-pagan spirituality, and wise, indigenous medicine men. Visually, the work awes with high-def images of lush and fantastic locales, aerial shots of majestic nature, and the untamed fury of...

Ragen Moss: A Rregular Shaped Tool

As a child, our shed always provided endless avenues of exploration. It wasn’t really our shed though, it was a part of the property where we lived that my mother managed. This storage room was built on top of the native Luiseño people’s land, who had lived there hundreds of years before. Rocks pock marked by holes surround the adobe structures, in which I was raised. Some of these pits are a foot deep, even to this day, I see these holes and think of a most basic tool that was used to create them, a stone, and then all I can think of is time. They are traces of women grinding acorns that fell from the same trees which stand there today; their depth a result of a repetitive, but completely necessary action. When I was young, the hills were littered with matates and other stone tools used by the indigenous people. These tools would often find their way into the shed among various other outmoded or overused instruments from the late 19th  century Spanish colonizer’s farming days. Old shovels without handles, bent sickles and rusted pitch forks, alongside new functional tools that continue the work of tending to and shaping the land, accentuating its curves and challenging the natural order, the same way the older tools, abandoned, and now reduced to objects, once did. Ragen Moss’s exhibition, A Rregular Shaped Tool, at LA><art combines writing and painting inside of bulbous lacquered plastic sculptures that merely hint at representation. Full of contained gestures, Moss’s pieces occupy two identical rooms side by side. Some pieces hang from the ceiling, gently...