Palm Springs may be the furthest eastern reach of Los Angeles’ urban/suburban schizophrenia and whiny babblespeak, but the Palm Springs Tourism Board has done its best to overcome such a provincial status by adopting the slogan, “Like No Place Else.” That can be said...
If an artist’s style is a visual representation of their technical abilities, then the painter Deborah Salt should have no problem applying her Minimalist talents to house painting. I mean that sincerely and without sarcasm or irony, for after all, paint itself has no...
Art galleries can be places where the mundane becomes divine, but as the front door of the Honor Fraser Gallery closed behind me, I knew that what I saw was what I was gonna get. In front of me was what appeared to be a selection of various types and lengths of...
There’s a new smell in town, and the best way to find the source is by following your nose down Grand Avenue to MOCA. Yeah, I thought it was coming from the room of stale, day-old Rothkos too, but it doesn’t take long to figure out that the odor comes from the R.M....
Could there be such a thing as an orchestra of memory? A kind of color-organ (remember those?—no, of course you don’t; you’re too young) soundtrack of apprehension, clairvoyance, and the insight and deep vision of compressed years? (And how, after all, do we...
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