SoCal SoBright

A collection of words and pictures featuring our favorite art, architecture and unique experiences that make California such a wonderful place. We aim to highlight diversity, uplift voices and traverse the sprawling landscape through a local lens. We are humans, not robots. This blog is a companion to our Instagram (capturing the colors of Southern California and beyond) and our Etsy shop, where we design onesies, Christmas ornaments, notebooks and jigsaw puzzles celebrating SoCal. All photos are our own.

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Wade Titus — It was the worst accident I ever seen!

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Come In, and Pull Yourself Up a Chair

By Mary Singh

If quoting, "Tell 'em Large Marge sent ya," evokes memories of a childhood spent excitedly awaiting the word of the day while watching Pee-wee Herman act like a child with a strangely adult sense of humor, then a visit to the "I Know You Are, But What Am I?" Tribute to the World of Pee-wee Herman show is essential.

Curated by Christina Van Ryzin and featuring over 70 original, human-made works by more than 60 artists, the open-submission show runs through August 30 at Evolved Art Gallery in Downtown Ventura.

Upon entering the single-room space jampacked with colorful pieces, any Paul Reubens fan will love being swept into a realm of pure whimsy.

Douglas Bloch's "Good morning, Mr. Breakfast" 3D cereal box and Kate Cosgrove's "Mr. T Breakfast" canvas of Pee-wee pouring Mr. T cereal while gazing down at his dog, Speck, pay touching homage to Pee-wee's Big Adventure, while the famous "Tequlia" scene is captured in Tim Eggert's "To the Alamo" piece on wood, where Pee-wee's elongated, enlarged platform shoes channel the motion of his iconic dance.

Paul Jach's Conky sculpture and Jon Gilbert's "Three Foot Six" black and grey rendering of our bow-tie-clad hero holding a sign marked HOPE instantly transport you back to being glued to the television, anticipating the word of the day on Pee-wee's Playhouse. In Chris Kette's "Saturday Morning Prophet," a bejeweled Jambi framed in gold reminds viewers of the magic of making wishes.

Dominated by a vivid palette of pinks, reds, yellows, blues and greens, much like Pee-wee's world, the show also carries dark, moody undertones that mirror the complexity of Paul Reuebens. The Creep's "A Crazy Rhythm Comin' From Puppet Land" on black velvet captures the jazzy personas of the Playhouse Puppet Band. Jordan Monsell's "Pet Shop Rescue" highlights the comedic horror of Pee-wee maniacally gripping two handfuls of snakes while standing in front of a burning building, while Wade Titus presents a neon-framed Large Marge with bulging eyes peering out of an ectoplasmic fog in "It was the worst accident I ever seen!".

Fair warning, you might get choked up when looking at some of the artworks. In particular, Brittany Moore's piece featuring three stacked Pee-wee heads, adorned with devil horns, a halo and wings, depicts him as a multi-faceted, ethereal being, evoking Robert Owen's classic clown portraiture.

It’s deeply moving to how many people were shaped by Reubens' creative genius. Seeing the artists’ interpretations of such memorable characters and TV show and movie scenes, and being able to share some of the emotion that they feel towards Reubens makes the experience unforgettable.

The gallery aims to "[c]hampion urban, emerging, and experimental artists—the weirdos, misfits, and visionaries who challenge the norms and redefine what art can be." With this beautiful exhibit, they delivered on that promise.

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Schindler House — MAK Center for Art and Architecture

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Schindler Space Architect — Documentary Film Review

By Mary Singh

Architecture, innovation, rivalry, romance and some of Southern California's most beautiful residential properties come together splendidly in Valentina's Ganeva's indie documentary Schindler Space Architect.

I had the pleasure of attending an intimate screening at the library at the Los Angeles County Arboretum & Botanic Garden, one of my favorite places for a morning walk, and was touched by both the film itself and the Q&A with director Ganeva and Ian Schindler, the architect's grandson.

Narrated by Meryl Streep and Udo Kier, the film takes viewers on a journey from Rudolph Schindler's Austrian roots to his life and career in California. It details his challenging relationships with mentor Frank Lloyd Wright, who failed to credit Schindler where credit was due, and friend-turned-foe Richard Neutra who was lauded for the very ideas for which Schindler was overlooked.

Though the film is dense, it is filled with captivating history, insights from fellow architects like Frank Gehry and Steven Holl, and enough twists and turns to keep viewers engaged.

It's clear Schindler was ahead of his time—an outcast in an architecture world where people were expected to fit nicely into boxes and play by the rules. So what if he liked to dress unconventionally, create non-traditional designs (many of which apparently don't have complete floor plans) and sleep around? In three decades he designed roughly 150 residences and still had a backlog of hungry clients while he was on his deathbed. His genius helped to define the iconic indoor-outdoor floor plans that Southern Californians love to brag about.

During the Q&A, Ganeva shared how the film came about after she realized that Schindler's story needed to be told. She, along with small crews she put together, spent more than a decade working on the film and was lucky enough to tour many of the residences still standing today. She said that sitting in the homes for a little while allowed her to see what made them so special: the way light enveloped and moved through each room at different parts of the day, and the peace of being in a space so interconnected with nature.

Schindler's grandson, Ian, shared his serendipitous connection to the film. He never met his grandfather, but through a series of events, he thought perhaps Schindler was trying to tell him something. At one point while cleaning out his late mother's garage, he came across Schindler's ashes. Then there was the time when he moved to the south of France, where he randomly ran into Frank Lloyd Wright's granddaughter, whom he befriended. Having grown up down the street from a Schindler-designed home, Ian later knocked on the door to get to know the owner. It was at that house that he stumbled upon Ganeva interviewing the resident for the documentary. Once Ganeva found out who he was, she pulled up a chair and invited him to join the project.

Whether you're an architect, design enthusiast or simply looking to learn something new, this film is worth checking out. It's currently airing on PBS in SoCal and will hopefully have wider distribution at some point.

And if you're curious about seeing his work in person, I recommend a visit to the Schindler House in West Hollywood.

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Kenny Scharf, LACMA Art Parade

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A Day at LACMA and The First-Ever Los Angeles Art Parade

By Mary Singh

What better way to celebrate the opening of the David Geffen Galleries at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art than with the pomp and circumstance of an art parade? Conceptualized by famed gallerist Jeffrey Deitch in New York about 20 years ago, the Art Parade recently made its LA debut.

On a temperate June afternoon, I took the subway—my first time "riding the D," the new metro line—and ended up at the Wilshire/Fairfax station, a few minutes' walk from LACMA. Upon arriving, a beaming smile overtook my typically stoic appearance as I spotted the colorful, glittering, parade floats parked on the street like costumed starlets awaiting the spotlight backstage at a play. After snapping a few pictures, I headed across the street toward the action.

I was initially intimidated by the swarms of people and long lines for food, drinks and the recently opened David Geffen Galleries, but I quickly found that there was an alternate entrance with practically no line. Standing in front of the colossal building is an attraction in itself. Gazing up at the modern brutalist concrete structure, refined with sinuous walls of glass, I felt a bit small in scale, like Wayne Szalinski in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.

Once inside, I couldn't wrap my brain around the interior where so much delicate art was placed so close to the windows. I'd never experienced anything quite like it. I was a bit taken aback by the number of unruly guests who proceeded to lean on and touch the artwork as if they'd never before been to a museum or learned etiquette, but because everyone was in good spirits I tried not to focus on that.

Walking through the building was a treat, from the grand pieces exhibited in the outer hallways to the inner, darker rooms housing the smaller ones and, presumably, those more sensitive to light. There was a mix of so many time periods and mediums all at once, jumping from photography to sculpture, textiles to paintings. I was able to gain an appreciation for some of the freestanding antiquities that allowed visitors a 360-degree view, unlike the many museums that showcase such artifacts on a shelf behind glass.

It was a pleasant surprise to turn one corner to see a performance art piece consisting of a person riding a bicycle while another danced with a soccer ball, which I later learned was This entry, by Tino Sehgal.

After meandering through the entire building, I made my way outside to secure a front-row seat to the parade.

Soon enough, things got underway, with Kenny Scharf's cavemen-towed car and lofty red ballooon bobbing along. Some standouts were the life-size puppets by the Bob Baker Marionette Theater, the politically poetic statement dresses of Maria Flores, El Triste aka the saddest puppet in Los Angeles, Javiera Estrada's larger-than-life Twister, Merissa Mann's vividly strange Salmon L.A. River Dance and the vibrant Auntie Multiverse Altar, celebrating South Asian aunties.

The energy was incredible. People were smiling, laughing, clapping and cheering for the artists. There was so much joy that I wished this could happen every weekend.