Mexico City is a magnificent mosaic of artistic culture.  There are the archeological finds of the Mesoamerican ancients of Teotihuacán.  The Gothic and Baroque influences of the Colonial Period as glorified in the Metropolitan Cathedral.  The Art Nouveau and Neoclassical trends of the early 20^th Century as reflected in the Gran Hotel’s iconic Tiffany stained glass windows. The customs of indigenous people dignified in Diego Rivera murals and their creations honored in museums and sold in street markets.

Residing in Los Angeles for almost 30 years, I had visited Palm Springs three times.  I hiked in nearby canyons and mountains, shopped a bit, dined, and swam and played tennis at resorts.  Palm Springs was known to me as a desert respite, not a cultural draw.  The fine arts required searching.  Exclusive galleries catering to the local moneyed crowd of retirees and celebrities were under the radar and spread out.  They needed to be mined like jewels of flora and fauna that hid under the sand or in shaded patches to survive the desert extremes.

The seed of an artistic expression can be planted by anything.  A poem.  An image.  A memory.   A political idea.   An event.  As it germinates, it can be unsettling intellectually, physically, even psychologically.  Dreams can fertilize the soil.  Often, an exhibit can provide an opening for the idea to finally sprout into a work – or a forest full of unique works.  

Such was the case for me with Faiya Fredman’s The Steel Goddess exhibit at Northern San Diego County’s Oceanside Museum of Art, showing now through January 13, 2019.

Founded as a fur trading post in 1605 and officially settled in 1642 by the French, Montreal radiates a continental aura.  Stone and brick buildings dominate the metropolis, especially in Old Montreal.  Architectural styles range from Italian Renaissance to Gothic Revival to Second Empire to Art Deco.  But Montreal is a modern city, too.  Amongst the steel-and-glass skyscrapers and the totally original Habitat 67 -- a housing complex of uniquely stacked and arranged prefabricated concrete forms that suggests a state-of-the art Indian pueblo look -- a contemporary art scene is thriving and vibrating. 

Sure, there were Picassos, Chagalls, Moores, and other blue-chip master works at the festival’s main event, Art Basel, at the Miami Beach Convention Center.  And, of course, they moved me.  But overall, the show felt remote, in part because of a confusing layout but mostly because the pieces, like those in a world-class museum, were unattainable except to upper-crust collectors.  Ironically, that crowd – who flew in from Canada to Chile, from Europe to Asia – elevated my engagement.   Dressed in colorful, smart, imaginative designer styles, they were living art, especially the exotic, voluptuous, raven-haired Latin American women patrons.&nbs

I am a fine artist, yes. But I am also a world-class journalist. Journalists are recorders of contemporary history. I will combine my two professional sensibilities here. I will record art “history” as it is happening – in my personal art world and in the art world at large.

My commentaries will highlight noteworthy impressions of events, exhibitions, galleries, museums, movies, plays, articles, books, workshops, and inspirational locales discovered during my worldwide travels.