Showing posts with label theaters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theaters. Show all posts

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Working on Benjamin in the Age of Internet Distraction

Walter Benjamin image by Cornelie Statius Muller 
Walter Benjamin's (1936) The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction is a famously dense but rich essay. To aid my students' reading (and refresh my own), I've developed this paragraph-by-paragraph summary that details three potentially revolutionary values deployed by twentieth century media forms:

(1) broad distribution over limited access

(2) collective sensibility over individual reflection

(3) direct experience over detached contemplation

I've also summarized Benjamin's concluding reminder that modern media may be used to perpetuate class oppression by encouraging an aesthetic of violence over a politic of struggle.

Somewhat ironically I must emphasize that scanning this "reproduction" cannot replace direct, thoughtful reading of the original text. Even so, I hope that these tentative jots provide a roadmap to help you follow Benjamin's broader chain of reasoning.

  • [NOTE: Page numbers refer to the PDF that I've shared with my students. I've also included the first words of each paragraph to provide further orientation.]

Broad distribution over limited access

p. 1 ("When Marx undertook…"): Karl Marx studied how increasing exploitation of workers would eventually lead to a breakdown of capitalism.

p. 2 ("The transformation of the superstructure…"): While it's important to imagine a post-capitalist world, we should also learn about the ways in which art is used today to support the contemporary consumer society.

pp. 2-3 ("In principle a work of art…"): Mechanical reproduction of artwork has profound social implications.

p. 3 ("Even the most perfect reproduction…"): Mechanical reproduction can never contain the essence of the original.

pp. 3-4 ("The presence of the original…"): Mechanical reproduction allows us to bypass limitations of perception and distance.

p. 4 ("The situations into which…"): Mechanical reproduction reduces our concern for authenticity.

p. 4 ("One might subsume the eliminated…"): A medium like cinema may be viewed negatively and positively. Negatively, cinema detaches us from material reality. Positively, cinema enables mass participation in (potentially revolutionary) public life.

p. 5 ("During long periods of history…"): Material and social circumstances affect human perception; changes in perception in turn produce social transformation.

p. 5 ("The concept of aura…"): Aura refers to the unique quality of a thing, its essence, that can be perceived but not entirely consumed. In modern society, most people prefer the power of the mechanical reproduction, despite its tendency to devalue the original.


"Buy her singles and see all her films/Paste her pictures on my windowsill/But that's not quite the same - It isn't, is it?"
"To pry an object from its shell, to destroy its aura, is the mark of a perception whose 'sense of the universal equality of things' has increased to such a degree that it extracts it even from a unique object by means of reproduction. Thus is manifested in the field of perception what in the theoretical sphere is noticeable in the increasing importance of statistics. The adjustment of reality to the masses and of the masses to reality is a process of unlimited scope, as much for thinking as for perception." - Walter Benjamin
p. 6 ("The uniqueness of a work…"): Historically, aura has been associated with social ritual and order - qualities often used to oppress the mass of working people. In modern society, art became detached from regulatory functions (even from categories themselves).

p. 6 ("An analysis of art…"): Once art becomes detached from ritual, it may become a device for change.

pp. 6-7 ("Works of art are received…"): Art may be valued for its limited accessibility, its "cult value." Conversely it may be valued for the ease by which it can be shown, its "exhibition value."

p. 7 ("With the different methods…"): Modern culture prizes exhibition value over cult value.

Collective sensibility over individual reflection

pp. 7-8 ("In photography…"): Aside from some portraits, most photography (and other media, such as cinema) employ various forms of instruction (eg., captions, sequencing) to ensure exhibition on a broad scale.

Victorian death photo (Huffington Post)
pp. 8-9 ("The nineteenth-century dispute…"): Some folks celebrate the power of photography and cinema to convey revolutionary ideas "with incomparable persuasiveness."

p. 9 ("The artistic performance…"): Dispensing with cult value, photography and cinema dismantle and demystify the process of production, enabling anyone to become an artist, a director, and/or a critic.

pp. 9-10 ("For the film…"): Photography and cinema further reduce aura by detaching actors from audiences.
"For the first time - and this is the effect of the film - man has to operate with his whole living person, yet forgoing its aura." - Walter Benjamin
p. 10 ("It is not surprising…"): The dismantling of production into technical details reduces the value of the "beautiful semblance" (the sense of "being there").

p. 11 ("The feeling of strangeness…"): Modern production causes alienation between the actor and her/his labor (and audience), particularly when that actor becomes a cult item whose mystery is both protected from and consumed by the public. As long as studios use mass production methods to sell actors as cult items ("personalities"), cinema will serve no revolutionary purpose.

p. 11 ("It is inherent…"): Cinema allows all people to imagine themselves as potential heroes.

Andy Warhol image from Off the Grid [blog]
pp. 11-12 ("For centuries a small number of writers…"): In a broader sense, the formerly durable division between producer and consumer of art has broken down.

p. 12 ("All this can easily be applied to the film…"): While Hollywood's fetishization of the cult hero perpetuates class divisions (eg. the one/few vs. the many), Marxist-inspired film can reflect the collective realities of the working class.

p. 12 ("The shooting of a film…"): Cinema production has changed what counts as reality; we now expect some sort of artificiality in everything we see.
"The equipment-­free aspect of reality here has become the height of artifice; the sight of immediate reality has become an orchid in the land of technology." - Walter Benjamin
Direct experience over detached contemplation

pp. 12-13 ("Even more revealing…"): The power of cinema production may be illustrated by the act of a surgeon using a scalpel to cut into a body. The relationship between surgeon and patient is "detached" to a certain degree, but it is nonetheless penetrative.

Franz Ferdinand (2009) Take Me Out
p. 13 ("Magician and surgeon…"): Modern cinema, though its fragmentation and re-articulation of reality, allows for experience that feels "even better than the real thing."

p. 13 ("Mechanical reproduction of art…"): The collective nature of cinema, along with its penetrative capacity and the expert orientation it inspires among audience members, enables a critical sensibility that challenges the power of cult value.

pp. 13-14 ("Painting simply is in no position…"): Mechanical reproduction threatens social hierarchy. Indeed even the most banal pop culture ("a grotesque film") may have more revolutionary potential than supposedly radical artwork (eg., "surrealism"), because the the latter is viewed collectively while the former is viewed in relative isolation.

p. 14 ("The characteristics of the film…"): The ability for cinema to control what is seen and heard - reflecting the merger of artistic and scientific perspectives - encourages audience members to develop keener senses of perception.

pp. 14-15 ("By close-ups of the things around us…"): In a manner similar to psychoanalysis, the camera allows us to peer more precisely into things that previously could not be perceived, revealing heretofore invisible prisons.
"Our taverns and our metropolitan streets, our offices and furnished rooms, our railroad stations and our factories appeared to have us locked up hopelessly. Then came the film and burst this prison-­world asunder by the dynamite of the tenth of a second, so that now, in the midst of its far-­flung ruins and debris, we calmly and adventurously go traveling." - Walter Benjamin
p. 15 ("One of the foremost tasks of art…"): Preliminary forms of creativity that are initially dismissed as barbaric (eg., Dadaism) are necessary stages in more progressive artwork.

pp. 15-16 ("Even fundamentally new…"): Dadaists [proponents of an early twentieth century European art form that mocked dominant conventions] were especially keen to attack the concept of aura by replacing contemplation with distraction.

Marcel Duchamp (1917) "Fountain" - photograph by Andrew F. Wood
p. 16 ("From an alluring…"): Dadaists previewed later cinematic experiences of active immersion rather than passive reflection.
"The spectator’s process of association in view of these images is indeed interrupted by their constant, sudden change. This constitutes the shock effect of the film, which, like all shocks, should be cushioned by heightened presence of mind." - Walter Benjamin
pp. 16-17 ("The mass is a matrix…"): Those who mock cinema as "mere" spectacle invoke an ancient denigration of class.

p. 17 ("The question remains…"): Distraction can actually be a powerful way to raise mass consciousness.
"Architecture has always represented the prototype of a work of art the reception of which is consummated by a collectivity in a state of distraction." - Walter Benjamin
p. 17 ("Buildings have been man’s companions"): Architecture illustrates the ways in which tactile experience can teach more effectively than abstract learning.

pp. 17-18 ("The distracted person…"): Cinema can teach by lulling audience members into a useful sort of mindlessness, freeing them to learn about their collective potential in a visceral way.

Warning: An aesthetic of violence over a politic of struggle

p. 18 ("The growing proletarianization"): Fascism represents a counterpoint to Marxism. Fascism uses art to ennoble the cult of the individual, which enables further oppression of the masses.

pp. 18-19 ("All efforts to render politics aesthetic…"): Fascists use art to justify an aesthetic of war as "beautiful" (eg., Italian Futurism), obscuring how wars are used to displace international workers' solidarity with nationalist fictions.

p. 19 ("Fiat ars – pereat mundus" ["Let art be created. Let the world perish" - Futurist slogan]): While Marxists transform entertainment into politics, fascists transform violence into beauty.
Starship Troopers/Fascism collage by Andrew F. Wood
Would you like to know more?
The question remains, however, whether these two objectives are as different from one another as their partisans might imagine.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Raygun Gothic - Part 2

"The designers were populists, you see; they were trying to give the public what it wanted. What the public wanted was the future."
- William Gibson, "The Gernsback Continuum"

Following up on yesterday's post, I'm sharing more images from my Raygun Gothic photo collection. These buildings reflect an early- to mid-twentieth century fascination with the moderne, a stylized version of "the future" where the buildings seem to be copied from Flash Gorden comics and Amazing Stories pulp magazines [Learn more]. Here's part two!

Disney's Celebration, Florida
Carthage, Missouri
South Beach, Miami
Salinas, California
South Beach, Miami
Sacramento, California

(Photographs by Andrew Wood)

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Raygun Gothic - Part 1

"During the high point of the [Streamlined Moderne Age], they put Ming the Merciless in charge of designing California gas stations. Favoring the architecture of his native Mongo, he cruised up and down the coast erecting raygun emplacements in white stucco. Lots of them featured superfluous central towers ringed with those strange radiator flanges that were a signature motif of the style, and made them look as though they might generate potent bursts of raw technological enthusiasm, if you could only find the switch that turned them on. I shot one in San Jose an hour before the bulldozers arrived and drove right through the structural truth of plaster and lathing and cheap concrete."
- William Gibson, "The Gernsback Continuum"

I've always been fascinated by Raygun Gothic, and I've been collecting images of those examples of this gaudy, goofy style for about ten years now. I thought I'd share some of my favorites... [I'll post more tomorrow.]

San Jose, CA theatre
1197 East Santa Clara Street [See more pix]

South Beach, Miami post office

U-Drop Inn, Shamrock, Texas

Tucson, Arizona gas station

Portland, Oregon gas station
(Photographs by Andrew Wood and Jenny Wood)

Monday, May 16, 2011

New Del Mar Video



I dropped by the glorious Del Mar last night to test a new videocamera (Panasonic HDC-HS60) on relatively low-quality record-mode. The camera is swell, even sporting a 120-gig hard drive. It's lightweight, has lots of manual functions, and works well in low-light settings. If only the danged thing could accept an external mic. Can you believe that? A videocamera without an audio port.

As I'm prepping for two summer documentary projects - deciding what equipment to bring on my trips to China and Europe - I'm discovering pesky hassles like these.

So far, the most annoying hiccup is the fact that my newish MacBook Pro lacks a Firewire port, which means I've gotta go on campus to dub from a second higher-end camera I borrowed (a Sony HDR-FX1000, with an audio port). My Mac's got everything I need for serious video, including Final Cut Pro; it's practically an aluminum television studio. Without one tiny port, though, that Sony might as well be a paperweight.

Ah, the pleasures of getting machines to communicate.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Gorgeous Deco Theater: Baltimore's Senator


During my recent trip back east I had an occasion to spend a bit of time in Baltimore. That's where I found my all-time favorite deco movie theater: The Senator.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

L.A. Weekend

This past weekend Jenny and I shared a drive to Los Angeles, catching up on conversation while we visited some cool sites. L.A. has always been a tricky destination for us: far enough away to be a hassle, congested enough to evoke dread. Yet there's so much to see and do that I can never stay away for too long. What follows is a basic trip summary - no literary pretenses here. Just a reminder of some places worthy of recollection.

Jantzen "Diving Girl" sign on Route 66
For lodging I usually aim for Pasadena's Saga Motor Hotel, or maybe the Safari Inn in Burbank. This time we tried Jerry's Motel, a 10-room relic in Filipinotown. Sketchy neighborhood aside, Jerry's was well worth the $75 nightly rate for a clean room and amazingly close proximity to downtown. After settling in we headed to West Hollywood to check out the neon signs of Santa Monica and Sunset boulevards (aided by a handy map produced in collaboration with the Museum of Neon Art). The highlight was a glowing Jantzen Diving Girl and the googie glory of a Mel's Drive-In.

Mel's Drive In, 8585 West Sunset Blvd
Following a tasty meal at Baby Blues BBQ, we dropped in to Tiki-Ti, one of the best old school polynesian-pop relics in the country. Jenny, a dedicated teetotaler, kindly tolerated the place, even when I insisted on ordering a Blood and Sand. Actually, she kind of enjoyed that part. The drink is a real spectacle, with patrons yelling, "Toro! Toro! Toro!," while Mike Sr. pours a frightening volume of tequila over an orange-flavored concoction and mechanical toy bulls rampage the bar pushing empty glasses with their horns. That pretty much wrapped the night up for me.

Jenny on the Ferris wheel, Santa Monica Pier
Saturday called for us to sleep in for the first time in weeks, which meant that breakfast became brunch, a perfect time to visit Clifton's Brookdale Cafeteria. Clifford Clinton designed this Depression-era gem to transport diners to the Santa Cruz mountains - transforming a potentially pedestrian meal (yes, they serve Salisbury Steak) into a vacation for urban-dwellers. Today's visitors queue to stack individually priced items on plastic trays while kids salivate at the prospect of getting a toy when they clean their plates.

Deco Delight in downtown L.A.
Afterward, Jenny and I strolled down Broadway in search of art deco and street art. The highlight was Jenny's discovery of Banksy's Parking. We also made our way to a median where I took some photos of the Bonaventure Hotel, that infamous West Coast capital of late- and post-modern architecture.

"The city bristles with malice" - Mike Davis
We then motored to the Santa Monica Pier, where we strolled and chatted - sometimes stopping to watch contortionists and magic acts. We even found one of those fellows who will paint someone's name on a grain of rice. Jenny made sure we picked up this special souvenir for Vienna. Of course we also shared a ride on the Ferris wheel, hanging below a friendly sky to gaze upon the city. Every once in a while I found myself checking the news on my phone - the U.S. had just launched a missile attack on Libya - and I felt the inevitable dislocation of being in two places at once.

Contortionist at the Santa Monica Pier 
Dinner called us to Culver City and Jenny's first visit to Johnnie's Pastrami, a cash-only joint with working jukeboxes and sublimely fatty sandwiches. From there we navigated clogged roads to catch Rango at ArcLight Hollywood - a pricy but impressively upscale way to see a movie. We figured on wrapping up our evening with a quick photo in North Hollywood; I just had to capture the creepy Clown Liquor store at night. Then - would you believe it? - I caught a glimpse of tiki torches. Turns out we were driving by new place meant to evoke the classic Polynesian vibe: Tiki-No (for North Hollywood). Definitely worth a stop.

Creepy clown sells you alcohol
After another leisurely night's sleep we awoke to pouring rain. At once our Sunday plans began to melt away, especially since the L.A. Marathon was snagging traffic all over town. Originally we'd hoped to visit the La Brea Tar Pits, one of those tourist traps that had infected our imaginations since we were kids watching Bugs Bunny. But once we confirmed that many of the exhibits are indeed outside - again, this was no drizzle; it was a deluge - we opted to reschedule that part of our trip. So we wrapped our weekend up at Burbank's Smoke House, packing away a decadent brunch buffet. Then at last, stuffed and exhausted, we began the long trip back north.


(Photographs by Andrew Wood)

Monday, June 7, 2010

Bay Area Saturday


Jenny and I drove to the San Francisco Bay Area on Saturday and had a delightful evening. Along the way we saw some cool sites. [Click images for larger views]
 

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Futurama - 1939-40 NYWF

This is an artifact from the 1939-40 New York World's Fair: a recollection of General Motors' utopian promise of better living through transportation, which is a common topic in a couple of my classes. This pamphlet (from my personal collection - click image for larger view) illustrates a number of themes common to that world's fair. My favorite theme is the rhetorical construction, if not fetishization, of "the expert" in public life.

Reading the text, we see how planners will build the future; the people need merely accept the experts' designs. Thus, "you descend [into a moving car that carries you past a diorama of 1960s-era highway design] . . . sinking into the upholstered depths." One imagines feeling almost infantile in trust, accepting of forces so far beyond comprehension. A useful but incomplete parallel between that experience and contemporary life may be found in movie theaters, those devices that seek to (almost) perfectly focus our senses toward one singular frame.

Feeling lost or disoriented? Even a moving car with no detours can frighten folks who are unfamiliar with the future. Have no fear: "a quiet voice at your shoulder explains details." That voice is the voice of authority (so astutely articulated by David Gelernter's 1939: Lost World of the Fair). Gelernter vividly explains how submission to the ordered plans of the experts offers us a glimpse, a "bird's eye view," of tomorrow (of course we know who the gods are of this future; we'll settle to be birds among their heavens).

Then you depart the Futurama and its vast depiction of the world of 1960, slipping the bonds of the present, but for real this time: ". . . a moment of darkness and you rise from your chair in the heart of the City of the Future whose buildings tower, full sized, on every side." What a scene, to blink away the shadows and stand within the promise of a world long after the Depression, long past the threatening clouds of imminent war.

I long for that glimpse, that flash of possibility that cuts through the threshold of today and bridges toward tomorrow. My tiny "I have seen the future" button, the one I wear on special days when I'm sharing the Fair with my students, is an artifact, one of William Gibson's semiotic ghosts. But it will never fully allow me entrance to that moment that drew queues of visitors to the 1939-40 New York World's Fair, a place and time that inspired people to stand in line for hours, waiting for a common tomorrow that seemed so good, so near, so possible. I so wish I could have stood among them.

Learn more: Magic Motorways: Fotsch reads Futurama

Artifact from pamphlet entitled The General Motors Exhibit Building (1939, General Motors Corp.), np.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

2009 New England Diner Tour - Itinerary

Initial plans for this summer's New England Diner Tour are complete. And right away you'll notice sacrilege: the absence of Jersey diners - and not even a stop in Maryland, which, as any fan of Barry Levinson's Baltimore-based movies knows, occupies a symbolic centrality in our collective geography of great diner locations.

That's the problem with our focus on New England. We've chosen to concentrate our attention further north and dedicate more time to New York, New Jersey, and Maryland next time.

One other thing: While the original theme of our family's 2009 adventures focused on diners, we've broadened our criteria to include swell drive-in theaters, fascinating historical sites, goofy roadside attractions, and even a jaunt to Montreal (presuming the feds return my renewed passport by mail on time). So where are we going?

The path starts in Philadelphia (where we got the best deal on flights), heads north through the Catskills and Adirondacks to Montreal, returns south for two-day U-turns in Vermont and New Hampshire, swings north and then south along the coast of Maine, drops into Massachusetts for a couple days, and then cruises through Rhode Island and Connecticut before returning to Philly.

Without providing too much exhaustive detail, here's a tentative list of highlights (including a handful of must-visit motels) for our two-week trip. See anything in the New England region that's obviously missing? Please post a comment.

Pennsylvania

Philadelphia: Geno's Steaks and Pat's King of Steaks (cheesesteak paradise)
Philadelphia: Independence Hall
Philadelphia: Reading Terminal Market
Orefield: Shankweiler's Drive-in (longest running drive-in theater in USA)

New York

New Paltz: "America's Oldest Street": Huguenot Street
Red Hook: "Fork in the Road" and Giant Prozac
Red Hook: Village Diner
Mt. Tremper: Kate's Lazy Meadow Motel
Massena: 56 Auto Drive-In
Massena: Blue Spruce Motel

Montreal

No specific plans yet. We'll park at the Grande Bibliotheque de Montreal, ride the metro, and see everything we can for about three days. Our only plan is lodging: two nights at Le Relais Lyonnais. Here's a trip back to '96 when we made our first trip to Montreal.

Vermont


Colchester: Libby's Blue Line Diner
Burlington: World's Largest Filing Cabinet
Castleton: Birdseye Diner
Covered bridges tour of southwestern Vermont
Brattleboro: Chelsea Royal Diner
Bellows Falls: Santa's Land (well... maybe)
Bellows Falls: Miss Bellows Falls Diner
St. Johnsbury: Dog Chapel

New Hampshire

Washington: Town Green
Claremont: Daddypops Tumble Inn Diner
Keene: Lindy's Diner
Keene: Rocky Brook Motel & Cottages
Hinsdale: License Plate House
Hinsdale: Northfield Drive-In
Manchester: Red Arrow Diner
Tilton: Tilt'n Diner
Lincoln: Clark's Trading Post
Mount Washington Auto Road

Maine

Bethel international sign
Gardiner: A-I Diner
Brooksville: Bagaduce Lunch
Waldoboro: Moody's Diner
Wiscasset: Red's Eats
Freeport: Maine Idyll Motor Court (where they don't take credit cards, but they do take personal checks - Cottage 5)

Massachusetts

Salem: Salem Diner
Salem: Bewitched statue
Somerville: Rosebud Diner
Wellesley: Babson Globe
Concord: Walden Pond
Worcester: Edgemere Diner (supposedly reopened as "The Edge" - hmmm....)
Worcester: Kenmore Diner
Worcester: Miss Worcester Diner
Worcester: Boulevard Diner
Middleboro: Sisson's Diner
Plymouth: Plymouth Rock
New Bedford: Shawmut Diner
Fall River: Al Mac's Diner

Rhode Island

East Greenwich: Jigger's Diner (famous for Johnnycakes!)
Pawtucket: Modern Diner
Providence: Haven Brothers
North Smithfield: Rustic Drive-in
North Attleboro: Arns Park Motel

Connecticut

Newington: Olympia Diner
Middletown: O'Rourke's Diner
Noank: Abbot's Lobster in the Rough
Guilford: Town Green
Fairfield: Super Duper Weenie World

No, we probably won't visit all of these sites. But we'll sure try! Once more, any suggestions? Let me know...

Friday, October 31, 2008

Happy Halloween



Here's a trailer for one of those old-timey movie theater "Spook Shows."

Trouble seeing this video? Click on this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQt4av9bSkU

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Fremont Theatre



Following up on yesterday's post, here's a video of the Fremont Theatre in San Luis Obispo.

Trouble seeing this video? Visit this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_Vj7biMy4o.

Select "watch in high quality" for best view.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Weekend in SLO and Morro Bay

Even though we're both swamped with projects these days, Jenny and I spent much of this weekend visiting San Luis Obispo and nearby Morro Bay. It was a lovely way to mark the beginning of weather that finally feels like fall. Friday evening was dedicated to the drive, stopping only to enjoy some Central Texan BBQ in Castroville. We grabbed a quiet room at the Peach Tree Inn and called it an early night.

The next morning we woke late and headed off to Morro Bay. The skies were blue and the weather was brisk. Jenny and I enjoyed the chance to watch rock squirrels scamper near the water, even though we annoyed them a bit. The brave creatures would climb up our pant legs in search of treats before leaping away once they knew that we'd brought no food.

Jenny also loved watching the seagulls squawking nearby and the pelicans diving for fish in the bay. Naturally we walked as close to the Pacific as we could, even climbing over the breakers to get a good look at the ocean. The waves crashed against the other side, sending explosions of spray into the air that would burst over us in slow motion.

Jenny convinced me to scramble up the rocks with her, and we both felt safely distant enough from the pounding surf. Only when I began to descend did one particularly powerful wave pound nearby, sending a drenching splash my way. I had to remove my shirt for a while, placing it on the rocks to dry a bit, but I didn't mind a bit.

For lunch we got combination plates of fish, scallops, shrimp, and squid at Giovanni's, standing in line before finding seats next to barking sea lions. We got a real kick out of watching more than a dozen of the animals sunning themselves, taking swim breaks, and squabbling over prime placement on the dock below. The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to strolling the shops, buying some souvenirs, and enjoying a nap back at our motel.

Our evening was spent in San Luis Obispo, enjoying ribs at Moe's and catching a movie at what must be the nicest Popcorn Palace on the central coast. Even though the show, Eagle Eye, was not too great a flick, I could also stare upward at the remarkable theater ceiling that glows in swirls of purple. It was a relaxing end to a mellow day.

We returned home this morning, ensuring that Jenny could attend church in her local ward. I'm spending much of the afternoon reading page proofs and anticipating a busy week. At least I tackle these new challenges with happy memories of a terrific weekend.

(Photographs by Andy and Jenny Wood)

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Portland Hollywood Theatre

While visiting Portland recently, Jenny and I came across the famed Hollywood Theatre, a 1926 example of the age when exoticism helped sell a night at the movies. As the theatre's history page indicates, the Hollywood endures because of the loving efforts of preservationists and movie buffs who resist the multiplexation of contemporary cinema. Visiting the Hollywood is an experience that lasts, even when you forget whatever movie they played.

[Photo by Andrew Wood]

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Portland Hellos and Goodbyes

We just returned from Portland, where we drove Vienna to her first semester at Reed College. Jenny had been dreading this transition for years, knowing how much she will miss our daughter. I've been more excited, anticipating the adventures that await this amazing young woman, knowing that she'll be surrounded by people as cool and quirky as she is. Even so, I've carried seeds of my own personal sadness at the prospect that our little girl has become a young woman set to embark on a life of her own, with Jenny and I as a smaller and smaller part.

We departed barely a week after our 2008 summer vacation, me having just begun classroom teaching for a new semester and my second year as director of the SJSU peer mentor program. Class ended at 1:15 and we were on the road north at 1:30, settling in for a 12-hour haul to Portland. It's a boring drive; there's no other way to describe it. We took I-5 the entire way up, pausing only to refill our tank and bellies from time to time. We arrived after one in the morning and checked into our hotel. I'll admit it: we stayed at a Comfort Inn, forgoing the undeniable funkiness of old-road motels for something quiet and consistent for the six-day stay that would follow.

The next morning, we went to Reed with our young college student. Vienna snagged a so-called "quiet-dorm," remarkable mostly for the fact that most of its denizens have no interest in quiet. Her two-person suite is small, but it has a door for Vienna's private room and windows overlooking a leafy green park with a swing-set. New Reedies were walking the campus with smiling parents; some kids jamming on musical instruments, others playing Frisbee, and a few young women sunbathing topless.

The rest of the day was dedicated to sessions teaching the three of us about the college experience to come. That night, we left Vienna on her own. Jenny and I found an amazing old-school steak place called Sayler's. Thereafter we shot some video of downtown animated neon signs (with me nearly getting my camera stolen by a genuinely scary guy outside of the Alibi tiki bar). We closed out our night with a return to Thatch, a tiki spot we first visited in April.

By Thursday, Vienna had pulled her dorm room into shape, and we three completed more Reed welcome activities. Our spirits were high, even though we knew that our next step was to leave Vienna on campus that evening and not see her again until Sunday. We learned about the campus health plan and Reed's plentiful on-campus jobs. Given the famously intense workload of this place, we weren't surprised to hear that first year students who exceed more than five hours of employment per week jeopardize their studies. That afternoon, we said our goodbyes to Vienna and I kept a close eye on Jenny. She was a little somber but not too sad, knowing that we'd see our daughter one last time before we departed back to California.

Friday was the beginning of two days dedicated to Jenny and I visiting Portland. We knew that Vienna had a packed schedule: meeting with her adviser, choosing from Reed's numerous fall kick-off activities, and getting to know her dorm neighbors. We committed to not calling her, affirming her independence. But we checked Facebook for her updates. Otherwise, Jenny and I got to know and love Vienna's new hometown. The weather was warm and the skies were clear; we felt lucky that we caught such a nice day.

Our tour began with a drive to Council Crest, following up on a friend's suggestion to glimpse a 360-degree view of the surrounding countryside. We then visited the Japanese Garden, proclaimed to be the best of its kind outside of Japan. Afterward we wandered the International Rose Test Garden, amazing ourselves with the hundreds of aromas waiting among the gravel rows.

Jenny and I drove back to town afterward, grabbing a tasty al fresco meal at La Buca (across from a streamline moderne Coca Cola bottling plant) and visiting the terrific Velveteria, a museum dedicated to -- velvet paintings. And yes, there are sad clowns, kung fu fighters, tributes to the King, and even an entire wall labeled "Unicornucopia."

The most memorable part of the collection was a singular painting of the creepy leader of the Heaven's Gate cult. [Note: Don't have time to visit Portland anytime soon? Visit Amazon and grab a copy of Caren Anderson and Carl Baldwin's book, Black Velvet Masterpieces.]

That evening, Jenny and I caught a second-run flick at the Laurelhurst Theater where you can have pizza and beer on individual tables while watching your movie. We concluded the evening with more neon photography before returning to our room, tired but happy.

Saturday began with breakfast at the Byways Cafe, a popular spot known for its long lines and lengthy inside wait-times. The food is undeniably good, and the decor is a road-tripper's mecca filled with an impressive collection of kitschy souvenirs from tourist traps around the country. Afterward, we wandered the stacks at Powell's, one of the largest and coolest new and used bookstores in the country, and ambled around the Saturday Market. Wherever we toured, we passed folks walking and carrying dogs, so much do Portlanders love their canine friends.

In the afternoon, we walked around Chinatown and dropped by Voodoo Doughnuts, a strange but tasty stop known for its weddings under the "Holy Doughnut." Jenny got something called a "Triple Chocolate Penetration," which seemed to balance out my plain 'ol glazed. It's best not to dwell much further.

Later on, we sojourned in the Chinese Garden, a one-block portal to a quiet and serene world of flowing water, lotus flowers, and gingko. Jenny and I stopped for an hour at the tearoom, finding a table upstairs that overlooked the grounds. Jenny savored a hibiscus herbal concoction while I learned how to steep a sampler of Oolong teas in the traditional Chinese style. We then walked about the gardens some more before returning to the loud world beyond.

Dinner was at 50 Plates, a new place we saw reviewed in the local paper. Reservations had already booked every seat until nine, but we stayed anyway to sample food available at the bar. Perhaps there's a difference, but I'm pretty sure I ordered everything I would have wanted anyway. The bar menu is terrific. I was particularly entranced by the "meat stick," priced to inspire patrons to wonder whether the server must stop at a convenience store before bringing the meal. This restaurant, a high-end interpretation of lowbrow comfort foods, was entirely worth the visit.

We made a quick stop at Cargo, an across-the-street shop brimming with unique and fascinating furniture and pop culture detritus from Japan, Vietnam, and related parts of the world. The artifacts, advertisements, and communist propaganda posters from Indochina were particularly eye-catching. We then made a quick stop at Cacao to satisfy Jenny's love of drinking chocolate, and then checked out some other Portland neighborhoods in search of animated neon. At this point, I couldn't get the sound of The Dave Brubeck Quartet's "Take Five" out of my head; I'm sure that that this tune will help me produce a swell video of the gorgeous signage [select 'view in high quality' to see the video properly] that blinks and pulses throughout the Rose City.

On Sunday we visited with Vienna one last time (for a while), anxious to swap stories about our various adventures. Jenny and I were thrilled to hear that she's making lots of friends and remains excited about her choice to come to Reed. Our daughter seems to have made this new home her own already, speaking like an insider, an owner of her new life. She spoke glowingly of her anticipation of forthcoming psychology classes. No doubt: these folks are going to push Vienna in challenging and fruitful directions.

That afternoon, once Jenny and Vienna returned from church, we said our real goodbyes. It was sad for us all, a sense that this transition is permanent. But it's exciting too. Our daughter is where she needs to be, where she deserves to be. She worked hard for this, and she merits all the good times she's going to have. Jenny and I tried our best to think positively about the home to which we would shortly return, a much quieter place than we left. We enjoyed a relaxing Sunday in Portland, balancing ourselves between joy and sorrow. Then we plotted our course south, just the two of us.

[Photographs by Andrew and Jenny Wood]

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Great Western


I've uploaded the website for our 2008 Great Western. It's still in draft form. Any errors in clarity, spelling, fact? Please don't be shy. Post a comment and let me know. Here's the link: http://www.sjsu.edu/faculty/wooda/greatwestern/