October 2009

Did you ever have one of those months when you were too busy to breathe, let alone post blog updates. That’s our October! Here’s a thumbnail review of what we’ve been up to . . .

Cosmic Conjunction (10/4): The season of giving started early this year with a benefit concert on the lawn outside the Griffith Observatory. Wolfgang Puck provided dinner (honey-stung chicken with heirloom tomato and peach salad, potatoes, a corn Madelin, and red velvet cake), while we listened to music selected and conducted by Arthur B. Rubinstein, best known for directing various movie and TV soundtracks. The highlight was a new composition, fittingly called “Observations,” narrated by Leonard Nimoy. Hearing Mr. Spock relate the story of the birth of the cosmos, under a glorious harvest moon, was complete heaven on earth!

Sports Museum (10/8): ESPN cosponsored a fundraiser at the Sports Museum of Los Angeles, so naturally we went even though we didn’t know much about the cause, Junior Achievement of Southern California, before entering the event. Turns out both the Junior Achievement, a volunteer-based organization that teaches kids financial literacy, and the Museum, a 32,000 square-foot facility that holds the largest private collection of sports memorabilia in the world, were fabulous. Plus we got to see basketball great Kareem Abdul Jabbar, who apparently just stopped by for a snack. He’s very tall! For more details, click here.

Cocktails at Union Station (10/10): One of Tim’s favorite food critics is Pulitzer Prize winner Jonathan Gold, columnist for the L.A. Weekly. We’re also big fans of Zócalo Public Square, a nonprofit that presents local lectures and screenings in an attempt to broaden civic discourse. Their programs are provocative and always free. To help support Zócalo, Jonathan Gold hosted a cocktail party fundraiser at Union Station, one of downtown L.A.’s most beautiful architectural landmarks. Catering the event were several of the city’s trendiest restaurants: Mozza, Cut, Church & State, Palate, Providence, The Gorbals, Comme Ça, and Rivera. Tim is more a beer man and I don’t drink alcohol at all, so the whole cocktail thing was lost on us. But we did pretty much get drunk on the food: pig burgers (yum!), bufala & alici salad, bacon-wrapped Matzo balls, tortilla florales, and butterscotch budino. Tim also tried the pork terrine with pickled shitake, clam fritters, tuna tartare, and steak tartare sliders—all of which are outside my particular (some would say “peculiar”) taste palate. The best part was sharing a small table with Kevin Roderick, author of two of our fave L.A. books, Wilshire Boulevard and The San Fernando Valley. We managed to talk to him quite normally without gushing like the two star-struck fans we were.

Hollyhock House (10/13): A few days later, we got the opportunity to attend a preview screening of Visual Acoustics, a new documentary about our architectural photography hero Julius Shulman. The movie was screened at Barnsdall Park in east Hollywood, site of Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous Hollyhock House. Although both of us have lived in Los Angeles almost our entire lives, neither of us had ever toured the Hollyhock House, so we were thrilled to see the film as well as one of Wright’s most famous L.A. masterpieces—and all on the same night. Built of concrete, the house was magnificent, if a bit sterile (typical FLW). The doc was wonderful, too, and made us even sadder that Julius had just recently passed away.

Actors' Gang benefit (10/17): Though Tim had by now declared “no more fundraisers!,” even he couldn’t resist half-price tickets to a Sarah Silverman and Tenacious D concert benefiting the Actors' Gang, a Culver City-based theatrical group directed by Oscar-winner Tim Robbins. The event was held at the intimate Ivy Station, a former trolley stop that now houses a 99-seat theater. It was quite the scene. Not only were we on the older end of the demographic spectrum, we also didn’t wear black, which is apparently the hip color for young concertgoers. I may not have been cool, but at least I didn’t roast (like everyone else!) in my pink summer dress. Tenacious D was outrageous. Led by insane comedic actor Jack Black, the two-person group performed hysterical heavy metal parodies on acoustic guitars, while most of the audience sang along. I loved every minute.

Paul Shaffer (10/21): Pianist extraordinaire Paul Shaffer has lots of stories to tell. As the former bandleader on Saturday Night Live and David Letterman’s musical director for the past 27 years, he’s met and played with almost every rock and pop star alive today, plus a few who are no longer living. On Wednesday, he made a stop at the Grammy Museum to recount some of the stories found in his new book, We’ll Be Here for the Rest of Our Lives: A Swingin’ Show-Biz Saga. We couldn’t resist seeing him. And lucky for us, too, because he was absolutely terrific—very funny and a brilliant raconteur. I can’t wait to read his book.

So that’s it so far. There are still five days left in October. Tim is hoping the Angels will make it into the World Series and I’ve got a big conference at the end of the week. But the really big news, which I’ll probably blog about next, is that, on top of everything else, we’re remodeling our garage! Stay tuned for news about the demolition later this week . . .

Julius Shulman

In all the hubbub of the past few weeks, I completely neglected acknowledging the passing of Julius Shulman, certainly the most important architectural photographer of the 20th century. If you are at all interested in mid-century design, it’s no doubt as a result of seeing Shulman’s iconic images of the period. He was 98 years old when he died on July 15.

One of the most magical times Tim and I ever spent was the day we met Julius. It was May 2003 and we were on an architectural bus tour of pre- and post-war homes designed and built by Raphael Soriano. Soriano’s first solo creation was the Lipetz Residence, located above Silver Lake, one of the city’s trendiest suburbs. The home’s round music room was made famous by Shulman, who captured so beautifully its 180-degree view of the lake and nearby hills. Shulman and Soriano became such good friends afterwards that the photographer asked him to design his own house in the Santa Monica mountains in 1950.

On the bus ride over to Silver Lake, we kept hearing folks chatting and laughing about someone named Julius and “just wait till he sees the house now!” We had no idea who they were talking about.

As soon as we exited the bus, we began exploring the grounds. Though the house was very “lived-in” and worn, the view remained timeless. Tim and I were marveling at our surroundings when an elderly gentleman, walking with a cane and carrying a camera, casually joined our conversation. He was friendly, talkative and acted like he’d always known us. We were concerned for his safety and so accompanied him as he entered the house.

Once inside, he really came to life, regaling us with how he took the famous picture of the 180-degree view of the music room and how the house, in its current state, looked so different. Unbeknown to us, we had been chatting with “The Great Shulman,” as Tim so affectionately calls him now.

The rest of the tour quickly became a blur; but at the end, word spread that everyone was meeting at Julius’s house. We got the address and jumped into our car. (Luckily I always travel with Thomas Bros.!) We drove up Mulholland and then angled to the left. We parked and climbed a very steep driveway to the house. I was dying to use the restroom, so went inside while everyone else milled around the backyard. As I entered the front door, I gasped. There, lining a long hallway, were 36”x36” prints of some of Shulman’s most notable photos, including the most famous of all: the 1960 picture of Case Study House #22! It was like walking into one’s own private museum of mid-20th century masterpieces. If I didn’t have to go to the bathroom so bad, I would have fainted on the spot.

After using the restroom—which, by the way, had a glass wall completely overlooking the San Fernando Valley—I roamed around the house and checked out all the original 1950s fixtures. The place was oddly deserted.

“Where is everyone?” I asked myself, starting to worry when I couldn’t find Tim.

Then I noticed a young couple heading toward the garage. Could everyone be in there?

Sure enough, there was Julius holding court in his crowded studio. People were crammed into every nook and cranny. Tim was quite literally sitting at the great man’s feet, while I tentatively leaned against a door frame.

Julius talked about his friendship with Soriano and how they worked together to design the house. He then showed us some of his photos stacked around the studio and described how he took each one. It was an amazing, amazing experience. None of us wanted to leave—ever! But then someone suggested we take a group photo and we all piled out to the backyard. Five minutes later, Julius appeared on the roof of the house with camera in hand, directing us all to squeeze in a little closer. We held our collective breath for fear he’d take a tumble, but he got the shot and, all too soon, we reluctantly started to leave.

“That was really incredible,” I said to Tim as we walked back down the hill in a daze.

"It really was," he replied, stunned.

We’ve met lots of famous people in our time, but none had ever quite touched us like this.

Thank you, Julius, for inviting us into your life, if only for a brief moment. We miss you, but will never forget you.