Who Doesn't Love A Macho Taco? or Cacti Rules

The older I get, the more I love cacti. I don't think when I was younger I even considered them but now I feel like they call the shots, and not just because they produce tequila. Cacti are visually unique, almost entirely self-sufficient and could kick your ass but, like any living thing, need lots of sun or they yellow and eventually whither. Ever the rugged loner but still sensitive to the elements. I got to contemplate all this and more at the Getty Museum earlier today.

The J. Paul Getty Museum is a perfect example of motivation, intention, hard work and a ton of mullah coming together so seamlessly that one can only admire the end result through the experience of being there. Smart decisions upon inspired choice stack atop one another to produce a cultural theme park that is elegant, luscious, hedonistic, thoughtful, cinematic, escapist, dreamy and full of cacti. If current renovations to cultural institutions like the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto had as much consideration and symbiosis paid to it, perhaps I'd be happy that 280 millions dollars of tax payer's money had just been spent on making the full act of art viewing a transcendent experience. Sadly, they screwed that up. But they didn't at the Getty.

The museum is free. You pay for a minimal parking fee but the rope powered tram ride up to the museum is gratis. The ride is smooth and immediately an appreciation for the design is activated. You see the sprawl of LA in a new light; the land mass of the city is intense.

The museum promotes choice. You do not feel compelled to start anywhere specifically. There is no signage jockeying for your attention. You've arrived and you wander. We were initially drawn not to the front door but around to the garden which was stunning, not just for its beauty and its variety and tactile qualities but for its considered design, the elemental positioning and the easy way in which you were allowed to experience it as you wished. One of many highlights was a water fountain at the top of the hill. Tiny droplets of water dripped down into a pool from a hole in a rock face. It gathered but was also swept down through a canal of rocks, eventually to a large opening that housed a low lying green viney maze. Instead of the maze being dried out and thorny, it was lush and the main attraction, part of a wishing pool of water that sat silently below a circular railing where people leaned over, took pictures and relaxed. The aroma in the air was skunky from the cacophony of vegetation, or maybe from revellers who must have mistaken the area for the Garden of Eden and lit up to take the experience even higher.

Chris related that the last time he was at the Getty, he didn't even make it into the museum because he had been so mesmerized by the garden and got caught up in conversation with a guard who regaled them with stories. I could understand how that could happen. Later I would realize that all the guards were extremely friendly. Either that is a result of living on the west coast where the vibe is just easier in general, or it's because they are working in Paradise.

Chris wanted to get back to the cactus garden look out spot, which he also remembered fondly from his previous trip. We entered the W Pavillion to ask someone but got "drawn" into a show titled Defining Modernity, European Drawings. A Van Gogh drawing of the postal worker introduced us to the varied collection but once inside, there didn't seem to be a hierarchy or overbearing curatorial voice to guide us. I can appreciate a well curated show but sometimes it's nice to just put work up and allow the viewer to construct their own narrative or associations. In what felt like the Getty vibe, we were left to make it up ourselves.

I was blown away by Seurat's Poplars, a haunting black pasteled depiction of a forest. I could have spent many hours with it but we didn't have much of it. Earlier Micah had taken us to a friend's gallery in Echo Park called Echo Curio, a very forward thinking hive of creative activity, in both visual art, t-shirt design and music. Actually their show also revolved around cactus - funny that. One of the gallery partners, Justin, alerted us to Tim Hawkinson's exhibits at the Getty; specifically a massive organ that took over the main entrance hall. As he explained it, it had a series of massive bellows that were electronically connected to a long strip of acetate that had denotations of sounds painted on them. Every hour, they would pass through the reader and initiate the sounds to be run through the bellows and played for five minutes. After viewing the cactus garden from a balcony, I went off to check it out.

Justin was right, it really took over the main entrance space. It was very hodge podge but with all the electrical work, it was obviously well figured out. Unfortunately, I didn't get to hear it go off and play. The gallery was going to be closing at it was well past the hour. So I ambled back to the cactus garden to get a closer look.

Some wise people chose to plant cacti on top of a circular rooftop. There are at least two lookout points in which to admire them. There are many varieties, many small and boxy while others are tall and gangly. A man nearby was trying to identify the perfect green its skin should achieve but because of this year's lack of precipitation, most were yellowing. And I was schooled that the two tone aloe I thought I saw the other day on my run, was actually a kind of cacti as there were many of those flopping from side to side.

The cacti looked like a strategic counsel congregated for time immemorial to ponder life. Or they looked like vegetative equivalent of Superman's ghostly parents, expending their advice and wisdom to the world. Why do I feel cacti are so smart? They just feel like old souls, like they have made some kind of sacrifice. Like they sacrified their youth and beauty for age and knowledge. They have forsaken the norm to accept what may come on a more challenging terrain.

In the end, the Getty experience gave me perspective on many levels. I appreciated the open-ended invitation to explore, both art, nature and architecture in nature. Every vista gave something new. The whole experience, no matter whether you were looking at picture perfect art or the building itself, was concise and precise. There was no half-stepping at any turn. It was brilliant and I want to go back and live there.