What does an artist look like? What does art look like? What is the creative process and would we recognize it if we saw it? How does one transmit what is in your head and heart and that which is before your eye? How do make that which “was not” to your hands and voice? How do you make magic manifest?

My friend Kevin keeps a blog as well. It is called Photo Circus. On it, he posts the latest images by Kevin Sharp of kSharp Photography. A selection of photos inspired by the people, places and things he encounters on a daily basis, often humorous, sometimes thought provoking.

When I stayed with them in Playa Del Rey, Kevin shared with me that his favorite thing to document is the process of manufacture. The creation, production, and assembling of all that inhabits our daily lives. I liken his passion to a beautiful and soulful look into how the creative act leaves our hands, lips, and minds and becomes that which we love. In his flat, there was an extremely engaging picture of a cellist strumming the strings and generating music.

Kevin said that most of all he loves to depict artist’s hands. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind if he took some pictures of my process. I was delighted with the thought, but I wasn’t prepared for the awe-inspiring results. I am honored and humbled by his attention to detail, his artistic eye, and the generosity of his spirit he aimed at me. Humbly I submit, I think this is what art looks like. Illusionists pull rabbits out of hats, artists create beauty out of thin air. I leave it to you to decide where the real magic resides.

Having been an immigrant in other countries (Germany, Italy, and a bit France) I have the highest respect for any person who tries to set up shop in another land. There are languages, cultural mores, and everyday simplicities that are the same anywhere. The words for grandma and momma are pretty close no matter where you go. The mimic of a dogs bark or a cows moo are pretty close as well.

Despite these small similarities there are huge differences, some funny, others painful. My father came to the United States in 1969, my aunt 1972, my uncle 1973, and the rest of the family later. My father arrived on Christmas day to snowy small rural mostly Christian town when he was only 17. The dorms would be closed for another 2 weeks, and he had no where to go. As he sat on his suitcase, tear drops streaming down his cheeks melting the snow at his feet, a person happened by. This person just happened to be from Iran, my father’s country a one in a 40,000 chance??? The man let my father stay in his basement till the dorms opened. Providence.

My uncle came a couple years later and decided to see America first. He studied at one school, then another, this state and the next. When that one didn’t suit his fancy he moved on, 7 schools, 5 states, and 8 years later he achieved his bachelors in architecture…his love and passion.

As it happened 6 months before graduation, he went to a party where he was to “meet” a possible girl of interest. There, he met another woman and totally ignored the first. A week later he asked her to marry him, and two months more saw them married. And, they still are 30 years later.

My uncle isn’t a man of many words, but the ones that do pass his lips often carry a gravitas from wisdom earned through hard times, and joy garnered from pleasant memories. His wife still loves him, he has built and designed homes with his own hands, and has seen his daughter grow into a beautiful intelligent woman with whom he is proud.

It isn’t to say that life has always been easy, but he still smiles and loves big. I was honored to spend the night at his home last night and dine at his table. This morning I could think of nothing better as a gift to him than to draw his daughter. She a fellow runner and art lover has always had a special place in my heart. No small surprise that in her childhood room my favorite painting of all time, also adorns her walls prominently. She even rescued a painting of mine from a garbage heap (probably where it belonged) and has hung it on her wall for a decade.

Any immigrants song is one mixed with sorrow, happiness, and reflection. Having been here in the US for more years than those spent in Iran he is an Iranian-American two cultures producing a third, a life that produced a beautiful man.

I’ve been friends with Natalie for a long time, and it has been fun to watch her grow. I’ve seen her go from party girl to responsible adult. She is a soccer player, coach, and school teacher who loves her kids and her job. I’ve watch her life and her title change as well. She was girl, woman, wife, and now mom. Natalie really is a great mom, and she loves her kid like no other.

Chad her husband and Chase their son invited me into their home and as always treated me life family and like royalty. I’m so lucky to have friends like this, I wish everyone did.

One of the many wonderful things about the the LA basin is that there is such a plethora of art to see. Wherever there has been a lot of money, there tends to be a lot of great art. Los Angeles has had its share of uber rich industrialist, media magnates, and business tycoons who luckily had a penchant for art. I’ve spent the last couple of days seeing as many of these museums as possible.

I started with both Getty Museums.The Getty villa which boasts an impressive array of Greek and Roman antiquities displayed in a nearly flawless reproduction of a villa from Herculaneum is worth the visit. The Getty center on the other hand has a terrific collection as well. Rubens, Bouguereau, Rembrandt, Tadema, Van Dyck, and others are well represented, and some pieces are considered to be the finest examples in the world.

In addition to the Gettys I was able to take in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, The Hammer Museum, and The Norton Simon Museum all of which possess Rembrandts. Being able to take in that many of his portraits you really are able to reconstruct his working methods a bit, and in my opinion he possessed the ability to paint a person’s soul.

Fantin Latour said of this notion, “One paints people like flowers in a vase, happy just to depict the exterior as it is—but what of the inner life? The soul is like music playing behind the veil of flesh; one cannot paint it, but one can make it heard…or at least try to show that you have thought of it.”

The last museum I toured was the diminutive yet impressive Irvine Museum. It is a niche museum dedicated to the California Impressionism genre. While there I met a fellow painter Tom. Tom is an engineer and artist. People always found it odd when I told them that I studied engineering and art. They felt that the two were polar opposites or at least strange bed fellows.

On the contrary, an artist and engineer are concerned principally with making things work. Reverse engineering a car and a famous painting aren’t that different. In both you are looking for the way it was created, for the tell-tale signs of the creator’s modus operandi. You are trying to see how they thought. You are having a conversation with the inventor. Then taking what you have learned you try your own hand at construction, blending the lessons learned with your own machinations.

Tom is a plain aire painter, and doesn’t do many portraits. Afterward, I showed him how I began his portrait with a construction drawing. I demonstrated the way I used the pencil like sculptor uses a chisel and knocked piece by piece his portrait out of the block of paper. We had a great conversation and he and his friend Terry were very kind to me. Hopefully, we will be able to paint with each other in the near future.

Love, Art, & Peace to all.

I’ve adopted a lot of “mothers” along this journey, but none as feisty as Phyllis. This wonderful momma bear not only took care of me, but it seems she takes care of the whole neighborhood. A computer engineer by trade, she has become a bit of a real estate magnate, and has used her business savvy to keep her friends close and her family closer. Her brother lives across the street, and her mother next door. My friend JC always said that he wanted to to own a whole housing subdivision and and have all his friends and family live on the same street. That way every night could be a block party. Phyllis did just that.

John Singleton, while bringing attention to the problems of inner city Los Angeles in “Boyz ‘n the Hood”, he also tarnished the possibility that Compton in the collective consciousness of all people would ever be seen as anything more than a war zone. It was important to me to run though central LA and Compton to prove to many that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. People around the world are good regardless of the neighborhood they live in. In fact, people in LA and especially Compton have been the most friendly of any place I’ve run so far.

Phyllis is an amazing woman by any standard. One of the things that endeared me to her is how she takes care of all those with whom she has contact. Phyllis has compassion for everyone, but especially for a single mom with a little girl named Ashley. Ashley’s mom is a nurse and as such works 12  hour days, in addition her mother is going back to school to get even more education. She drops Ashley at Phyllis’s house at 6 in the morning, and picks her up at 7 at night. Phyllis makes sure Ashley is fed and has done her homework. Phyllis has compassion, she said, “Us single mom’s have to stick together.”

I was honored to watch as Phyllis in action, a compassionate giver she took care and fed me, Ashley, Ashley’s mom, Wayne, Mark, and about 3 other people all in one night. She even arranged for me to do a facetime video chat with some of my old gymnasts in San Francisco. It is people like Phyllis that remind me why that it isn’t my story that needs to be documented along this journey. It is the stories of amazing people doing compassionate acts on a daily basis that are the source of my inspiration and rejuvenation.

I’ve been the guest of friends in Playa del Rey for the past couple nights. I am extremely honored to have been a guest in their homes, at their tables, and in their lives. I was delighted too to be around a beautiful baby boy.

Walker and I took to each other pretty quick, and it wasn’t long till he brought me a Dr. Seuss book to read as he plopped down in my lap. We made it all the way to page 29 till he was done with that one.

Then I introduced him to “Tarzan Lord of The Apes” cartoon on YouTube. That was my favorite cartoon as a kid. I think he liked it about as much as he liked teething on my iphone…which is a lot. 

Walker is the son of Kevin and Gina, kind people that opened up their home and their hearts to my pilgrimage. Knowing I was a vegetarian, they went out of their way to create an amazing dinner of baked zucchini, and amazing salad with kale, fresh bread, and wine. The privileged me by allowing me to contribute some fried green tomatoes to the mix as well. Although they didn’t turn out well, I would’ve never known it because of their compliments paid.

Kevin is a photographer who got his main inspiration from Ansel Adams, and like his hero loves to photograph the wilderness, most especially the the Big Sur Coast. He loves to photograph people working and in the process of creating. Gina is a former model. That occupation took her to even live in Japan. She is now an actress and a great mom. Keven showed me great favor by documenting my process as I worked on an illustration for a arts magazine in Texas, The Bohemia Journal.

http://www.bohemia-journal.com/

I next stayed with my friend Watt. I met Watt in San Francisco a year ago and posted about his exploits back then. When we met, he and I happened to be running the same direction barefoot, and I asked him if he wanted to run together. A comedian by trade, Watt is one of the most generous and down to earth friends I’ve made. He works in his spare time for a shoe company that gives away a pair of shoes for every pair they sell!

Watt took me to a “White Elephant” party at Ashley and Eddies house where we played guitars, sang, and had a great time. They being vegans, put out a spread of fruit, vegan cookies, and they even made a delicious vegan soup for all the attendees. Very generous and fun people.

This morning once again Watt and I had the pleasure to run together. He loaded me up with seeds and nuts for the road, and as we parted, he just shook his head and said, “I can’t believe you run 25 miles a day.” My reply, “By the grace of friends like you, Ashley, Eddie, Kevin, Gina, and Walker I can and do.”

Love, Art, & Peace to all.