Venice beach the night before and the vast pervading aroma of marijuana and incense. The leather faced outdoor people, the shining bulk men, the ageing boob jobs, the immigrants, the silver horse men, the surfers, the towelled basketball gatherings, the lizard guy, the beach parties, the families, the hipsters, the tourists and a police guy wearing knee high, gleaming black SS style boots and with skinhead watching on like a statue, more object and form, pleasing. The smell still of fruity tobacco and marijuana. All this and roller skates plus bay watch beach hut with roll down slide and long long beach, like that emotional moment when a travelling army finally reach the limits of land and look out at the burgeoning sea. Great whites in this one, just knowledge not actual.
So today with this experience cycled through we shoot title sequence by the pool. 300-400 AD and 1200 AD. Silky and new, in the pool. Then we try to swap bodies up on mulholland drive, squeeze and clench but cannot change features. We are. Singing that talking heads song, seen and not seen, where by keeping an ideal face structure in mind, one is able to very gradually achieve it over a large period of time. Do we do this to objects?
So Getty centre and the view and the grandeur and the scale and the unflinching show and the hordes and the art, super heroes lair, not even Hollywood could imagine, the power of it all. More of the vulpine people.
Crystals formed of sugar worn like gems sticking to bodies. We film in masks at Getty, an artwork made at a place where stone outshines the horizon and the paintings and sculptures craving real light?
The story unfolding bit by bit on the long shutter release cable draped over the rocks if the San Fernando Valley. I see holiday snaps of a medieval artefact, romancing with a 12th century fragment. They are balloons, overinflated and painted like cartoon bombs. Next, to a diner for a counter burger, how many movie scenes involving coffee served in bulbous pot at the counter, eggs sunny side up. Sculpture rounded edge down, rolling around next to the wall mount text, which in turn is the hash brown served with ketchup. What to think… Should grow increasingly breakfast.
So silky masks ride on escape questioning.
Back on San Diego freeway, home, taco van, pulled pork, marinated beef cheek, tripe and tongue.
Best guacamole, makes me think of nothing.