URS BAUR – EDIToR AT LARGE

I’ve been fortunate enough last year to have had the opportunity to contribute several stories to the TOPANGA NEW TIMES, a voice for Topanga, Malibu and the surrounding communities, and to WAVES MAGAZINE, the gorgeous inhouse magazine for Hotel CASA DEL MAR and SHUTTERS in Santa Monica. Stories about AI, art, groups, and people. I loved every bit of it. I will be writing more. And more.

If merely hearing or reading the word ‘AI’ triggers you, you’re not alone; some of my closest friends feel the same. However, the fact that you are still reading tells me you may be willing to stay with me for a minute and hear why I think that if you are part of the workforce, ignoring AI comes at your own peril. Allow me to share some of my thinking on AI and why I advocate that you should, if not embrace it, at the least be very curious about it.

The genie’s out of the bottle, so to speak; therefore, wishing it away is unproductive. I come to AI as a creative person. Back in the day, I witnessed the advent of the personal computer for creative types and how software like Photoshop or Illustrator and a heap of other design programs have since transformed the creative industry to where we find ourselves today. However profound that transformation may have been, it has happened at a somewhat graspable pace.

As the founder and director of the Topanga Film Institute & Festival, I have long been curious about how emerging technologies have the potential to empower storytellers to elicit deeper empathy for the characters and subjects they bring to the screen. It’s in this context that I was first introduced to ‘generative AI’ tools last fall in the run-up to the film festival. Generative AI refers to tools that create images solely based on a text prompt typed into a form field. A friend and fellow Topangan, Paul O’Shea, a visual effects designer, showed me some frames he had been creating based on text describing specific scenes. In his case, he wrote text prompts about massive horses, humans, limbs, dirt, blood, sweat, steel, and armor, clashing, conjuring the epic guts and glory associated with medieval combat. He showed me hundreds of images in various amounts of detail, color, technique, mood, and time of day or night. He ‘created’ a few for me in real time; once he input the text prompts and hit send, it took mere seconds for another image to appear on screen, ‘developing’ before our eyes, not unlike a Polaroid picture (remember those?). My mind was blown. While somewhat crude in accuracy and detail, these images and the process by which they came to be, marked a clear departure from any technology I had encountered before. 

While I was trying to grasp what I was witnessing, realizing that this was only a first-generation image creation engine, I remember being overcome by two distinct feelings. On one hand, sheer awe. It was immediately apparent that I had just seen the dawn of a new chapter for art and creative expression. On the other hand, I felt a deep, visceral fear. Fear of some threat not only to my profession as a visual artist but also of some profound change that I wasn’t able to formulate or even capable of fully comprehending. That was back in August of last year.

And then, in December of 2022, the company OpenAI released ChatGPT to the wider public. Within one week, it had over one million active users. Yes, there had been chatbots before, but none that could impress sufficiently or fool a significant number of us into believing that artificial intelligence was going to demand some urgent public discourse any time in the very near future. With the release of ChatGPT 4, their latest version, it has dawned on many, including myself, that not engaging with, not testing these tools, or not considering them as a potentially potent ally in any intellectual task we choose to perform is to our own disadvantage. So, while ChatGPT and other AI have the capability to become an unprecedented force for creativity and for doing good in and for this world, they also already crystallize as a clear and present challenge to our worldview, our livelihoods, and arguably to humanity itself.

In the few months since ChatGPT’s release, I have started to explore ways this technology may be transforming the process in which I approach creative and intellectual tasks, as I am aware that it has already become an indispensable tool for many, including writers, artists, educators, and engineers. ChatGPT has since assisted me in, composing emails, structuring proposals, acting as a vet giving me advice on my pet, drafting legal agreements, and I even found it surprisingly supportive as a therapist. It also seems clear that those who don’t experiment with AI will soon find themselves at a distinct disadvantage to those who do, and will find it harder to compete in their professional field.

While the rapid advance of these tools raises serious concerns about ethical implications, job displacement, interpersonal and social issues, they simultaneously present us with a unique opportunity to harness their power for good, to augment our abilities, and to achieve things we never thought possible.

Battle of Hastings year 1066, created in Midjourney, a generative AI tool. Concept and original prompts by Paul O’Shea

I believe that by engaging with AI technologies, we can probe their capabilities and limitations, and in turn, contribute to an informed and urgent discourse—since it seems safe to predict that the unfettered development and adoption of AI technologies have the potential to significantly disrupt the trajectory of human evolution.

Whether AI triggers a sense of excitement or fear within us, we must acknowledge that it is here to stay. We have a responsibility to engage with it, learn from it, and work together to shape its future in a manner that benefits all of humanity. It’s our best bet in manifesting a future where AI serves as a powerful ally in our quest for innovation, empathy, and meaningful storytelling, rather than becoming a formidable adversary that threatens our very existence.

Appendix

For those curious how I used ChatGPT for this story, I copy-and-pasted the story into the text to check for spelling and punctuation and asked the following:

Me: If you were a reader of this article and were easily triggered by hearing yet another article about Al, how do you think this article would make you feel? (I guess here it was ‘’anticipating” how some humans may feel.)

ChatGPT: As a reader who is easily triggered by Al-related discussions, this article might elicit mixed emotions. On one hand, the author acknowledges the concerns and fears associated with Al, which could make the reader feel understood and validated. The article also delves into the potential benefits of Al and emphasizes the importance of engaging with it, which could spark curiosity and a willingness to reconsider one’s stance. However, the article does highlight the rapid growth and potential threats posed by Al, which might exacerbate the reader’s anxiety or concerns. Despite this, the overall tone of the article leans towards a balanced and responsible approach to Al, encouraging readers to engage and learn more about the technology in order to help shape its future. While the article might be initially uncomfortable for someone who is triggered by Al discussions, it could potentially foster a more nuanced understanding of the topic and encourage a reevaluation of one’s perspective on Al.

IMAGES: The Battle of Dunkirk, 1940, and Battle of Hastings year 1066 – Concept by Paul O’Shea, powered by AI

Hello, readers. As the long-standing creative behind TNT’s cover designs, I’ve always sought to push the boundaries of artistic expression. I’ve been experimenting with AI in my own creative process since its emergence a little over a year ago.

However, this month’s cover marks the first time out of close to one hundred cover designs, that I relied on AI as an integral part in its creation. This pivotal shift compels me to share my insights and reflections on how AI is not only reshaping the essence and purpose of my own work but also transforming the creative landscape globally.

The skills and processes I have honed and come to rely on as a visual artist are being challenged and disrupted in a radical way.

This has led me to evolve my approach to AI in art from cautious curiosity to embracing it as an integral part of my toolkit. I’ve been experimenting with AI to augment and enhance my ideas, allowing me to push my creative ability beyond my learned methods and techniques. 

This week’s cover and the “pen and ink” editorial illustrations accompanying the article, marks the first time AI is not just a supplementary tool but the primary medium, the technique itself. It’s a bold step, one that blurs the lines between artist and machine, between traditional craftsmanship and technological innovation. And I somehow feel compelled to explain myself to you, our audience. 

In my opinion AI is neither a force for good, nor evil, but more akin to fire, where its power rests in the hand and with the intent of the individuals wielding it. We are introduced to a technology that forces us to define and redefine our creative boundaries, ethics, and the very essence of human ingenuity. And it’s up to each creative to contend with this force that seems to have the capacity to replace us altogether. 

Upon learning the theme for this month’s issue, the Italian “Feast of the Seven Fishes,” I immediately imagined this magnificent meal, or all its fresh ingredients, captured as a glorious painting in the style of 17th century Dutch masters like Johannes Vermeer, or Pieter Claesz.

In the past, I might have reached for my usual arsenal of tools and techniques, searching for images and combining and arranging them into a collage resembling a large painted canvas. This time, I decided to lean heavily into AI. I fed the system with highly descriptive text prompts of what I was imagining – each ingredient, the composition, textures, colors, mood, and atmosphere of the feast. The AI’s response was an impressive foundational image, a starting point that captured the concept in amazing detail but also came up with some grotesque renderings of some of the individual ingredients; it particularly struggled with the many legs of the octopus.

I have come to understand that making AI deliver the results that align with my vision, requires a process of refinement and iteration that can be very time consuming and at times frustrating. I engaged in a deep, collaborative process with the AI, trying to coax it to deliver individual elements and layers which I then combined into a cohesive artwork. The result is a cover manifested by the power of AI in creative hands, a harmonious blend of algorithmic efficiency and human inspiration.

With it comes the realization that AI can be more than just an assistant; it can be a co-creator. This process lays bare some profound questions about the role of the artist in the age of AI. Does relying on AI diminish the creative achievement? I believe that in some ways it does, in others it does not. Instead, it challenges us to redefine what creativity means in the modern era. It’s about steering the AI, guiding it to realize a vision conjured by human imagination.

As we move forward, the ethical and moral implications of AI in art remain a topic of intense debate. My stance is that AI should be viewed as a new brush in an artist’s palette, a new lens through which we can view and interpret the world. The key is to maintain the artist’s intent and vision at the forefront, using AI as a means to an end, not the end itself.

In a way, the AI-generated cover is not just a piece of art; it’s a statement about the future of creativity. It’s a demonstration of how artists can harness AI to leapfrog their own limitations and push the boundaries of what’s possible, blending traditional artistic intuition with revolutionary technology. 

As we continue to explore this synergy, we are suddenly confronted with profound questions about the soul of art. It’s a journey that challenges us to rethink our definitions of art and creativity, inviting us to embrace a world where human imagination and machine intelligence coalesce to create something truly unprecedented. This evolution in art is not just a technological leap but also a cultural and philosophical one, urging us to reconsider some of our most deeply held assumptions and beliefs including those pertaining to our place at the apex of the trajectory of evolution itself. 

While this essay may seem overly dramatic to some of our readers, it is also a reminder that much of the responsibility of how AI will shape our views, beliefs, and our lived experience will depend on the willingness of each individual to become more vigilant and more discerning in the process of consuming and interpreting the images and information we’re being exposed to in today’s media environment, including the cover of your favorite local publication. I for one, will try to stay informed and keep up with the rapid pace of innovation. I’ll wield this great power responsibly and deliberately, and will look for ways to harness technology in service of and for the advancement of humankind.

IMAGES: TNT COVER – Concept by Urs Baur, powered by AI

The Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) celebrates the 100th birthday of iconic California artist Sam Francis with the groundbreaking exhibition "Sam Francis and Japan: Emptiness Overflowing."

The exhibition showcases Francis's affinity for Japanese art in relation to the concept of "ma," the dynamic interplay between form and non-form. Curators Hollis Goodall, Leslie Jones, and Richard Speer have masterfully juxtaposed Francis's creations with historic and contemporary Japanese art, highlighting the visual and philosophical connections between them. Key works by Francis, such as Towards Disappearance (1957-58) and Meteorite (1986), are displayed alongside pieces from LACMA's Prints and Drawings and Japanese Art departments, many of which have never been publicly exhibited before.

Sam Francis and Japan comprises five galleries, each with its own thematic focus. We see visual comparisons between Francis's work and historic Japanese paintings, emphasizing the shared principles of "ma" and "yohaku" (open space) and Francis's engagement with contemporary Japanese art, showcasing works by artists from the Gutai and Mono-Ha movements, as well as his connections with East Asian Calligraphy, evident in his preference for fluid mediums, gestural application, and working on a horizontal plane.

Following a tour of the galleries, I had the privilege to sit down for a conversation with Debra Burchett-Lere and Ann Whitaker, Executive and Associate Directors of the Sam Francis Foundation.

I learned that the show was eight years in the making, and originated with Burchett-Lere initially approaching independent curator and scholar Richard Speer with the idea of creating a book about the topic. Soon they realized that what they envisioned would make for an unprecedented exhibit. Burchett-Lere was aware of LACMA’s extensive Asian collection, and got an introduction to one of their curators, Hollis Goodall, who was immediately on board. From there, the project eventually grew into the groundbreaking exhibition we see today.

The fact that the exhibition coincides with the 100th anniversary of Francis's birthday is due more to unforeseen delays than intentional planning – a fortuitous byproduct of bigger forces at work, as far as Debra Burchett-Lere is concerned. “It’s the icing on the cake.”

Q: Congratulations on the show, and I imagine as the Executive Director of the Sam Francis Foundation, you must be quite pleased with how everything turned out. What distinguishes this show from past exhibitions of the artist’s work?

D B-L: “This is the first time Francis’ work has been exhibited directly alongside work of his Japanese contemporaries, which allows the viewer to draw clear connections and witness the profound ways in which those artists influenced each other’s work. There have been a few exhibitions in that spirit, but never the way it’s been done here, with the artwork displayed side by side and within the same galleries. Richard’s book, "Sam Francis in Japan: The Space of Effusion,” delves even deeper into the connections between Francis and his Japanese counterparts, featuring a wealth of historical photographs documenting their interactions and collaborations.”

Q: What's Sam Francis's importance in the context of Southern California?

D B-L: "Sam was really the first internationally famous California-born artist. He came to fame in Paris and traveled extensively, including Tokyo, where he completed his first commission in 1957. He traveled back and forth a lot, living in Japan for months and years at a time. While he maintained studios in Japan, Paris, and New York, he loved Santa Monica and had several studios here over the years. Having the show here in Southern California is meaningful because of a particular cultural affinity we have with the Pacific Rim countries that’s quite different from the East Coast.

Q: What is the main purpose of the Sam Francis Foundation?

D B-L: “In the United States, many artists of Sam’s generation have done very well financially, like Robert Rauschenberg, Alexander Calder, and Jackson Pollock, and they have created foundations mainly to perpetuate their legacy, ensuring that their work remains in the public eye and is understood from an art historical perspective. Additionally, the Sam Francis Foundation supports various community initiatives, including the Lapis Press, which publishes contemporary artists' works. We fund the printing studio at Art Division, a school for artists aged 18-25 mostly from lower-income households, who couldn’t necessarily afford to go to art school. The Foundation also awards artist residencies in Paris, Mexico City, and Tokyo, where Sam lived and worked for most of his life.

Q: Do you personally have a favorite piece, or can you name one that best exemplifies the influence of the Asian aesthetic on Francis’ work?

D B-L: That’s very difficult to answer, but if I had to pick one, it would be “I’m An Arbor For Her Dreams”. It’s never been shown at LACMA before. It has all of the elements, It has the ‘ma’, it has the movement, the gestures, the calligraphy. Sam had a very facile hand. He could do these circles, just like that, he could draw long straight lines, no rulers. All very intuitive. But it’s also the sense of color, the vibrancy. He always had a sense that paint is alive. It quivers. Paint is still a living entity. One of the things, especially starting in the 70s, he had all of his pigments made – the intensity of his colors is incredible, the cobalt blue, the cadmium red...and that’s what he’s been known for. Also, his ability to take acrylic paint and make it look like watercolor. That was quite unique.

Beth Ann Whitaker: “My personal favorite is the sky and snow painting. The photo wall in the exhibit. I feel it’s exciting and important, because it was a happening, an event. It took place in the 60s in Japan.

Q: What experience or impression do you hope visitors to the show will be left with?

D B-L: I think the exhibit not only showcases the remarkable body of work created by the artist but offers a rare opportunity to explore the symbiotic relationship between Francis and Japanese artists, providing a deeper understanding and context of his work and the cultural exchange that took place during his lifetime. And in reverse, I hope it makes people appreciate Asian art in a different way, and being able to see how art rarely exists in a bubble but that it’s a dynamic process transcending borders and spanning continents.

Q: What else is being planned to mark the 100th anniversary of Sam Francis's birthday?

Beth Ann Whitaker: "There are several events and exhibitions planned, including 'The Circle of Sam' in Bakersfield, which focuses on the artists who worked with Sam in his California studios, predominantly in Santa Monica. There's also an homage to Sam at the Jan Museum in Amstelveen, the Netherlands, and several institutions around the world will be highlighting his work throughout the year.”

Thank you both for your time, and I wish you much success with the show and all your endeavors for the coming year.

"Emptiness Overflowing: Sam Francis and Japan" is at LACMA from April 9–July 16, 2023, with several special events planned in conjunction with the show. Below, please find links to all scheduled activities as well as additional resources related to the artist and the Sam Francis Foundation.

WAVES MAGAZINE – SAM FRANCIS

PHOTO by Tim Akunis

In the competitive culinary scene of Santa Monica, California, a small bakery has been making quite an impression. Jyan Isaac Bread, where owner and baker Jyan Isaac (born Jyan Isaac Horwitz), at the tender age of 22, has been nourishing the local community with his artisanal sourdough loaves, baguettes, bagels, and other baked goods for just over three years.

The bakery's Instagram-worthy bread has not only attracted a loyal following of locals but has also caught the attention of food enthusiasts, bloggers, and tourists from around the world. (Jyan Isaac Bread was named in Food & Wine magazine’s January 2022 feature The Best Bread in Every State as one of the top 5 bread bakeries in California.)

Intrigued, I reached out to Jyan Isaac, and he generously invited me to join him in the wee hours of the morning for a first-hand look at how the magic happens.

He greeted me with a firm hand and a friendly smile, and let me know that I could observe anything I wanted. But I quickly realized that wouldn’t be easy without getting in everyone’s way. The place is tiny and seems to exist as an afterthought to the adjacent pizza restaurant. There is no actual sales floor. Baked goods are handed out through an open door, across a wooden table to the waiting customers lined up on the sidewalk outside. But that wouldn’t happen until 7 AM.

For the moment, his team, consisting of seven full-time employed bakers, seemed to be executing a perfectly rehearsed and choreographed routine. Drawing from packed floor-to-ceiling shelving, large bags of flour, countless stacks of bins on wheels, gigantic dough mixers, all arranged, put to use, cleaned, stacked, greased, and refilled, the crew’s movements are all orchestrated to serve a process that feeds the dough in various shapes and forms into the giant imported Italian gas deck oven at the center of it all, for golden and dark baked loaves to emerge hot and perfectly timed. I felt witness to a sacred ritual, all seemingly flowing from the mind of the young bread protégé. No commands shouted. No idle chit-chat. World beats blasting. And everybody seemed into it.

Many may be familiar with Jyan Isaac’s story of turning his pandemic-related loss of employment from Gjusta in Venice into a thriving and growing business, one loaf and one half dozen bagels at a time. Initially out of the aforementioned pizzeria that was also shuttered, delivering warm loaves to family, friends, and neighbors, until eventually finding investors to build out the current operation, and soon – the move to a brand new, larger location in Culver City. With more space and upgraded equipment, he estimates to be quadrupling his capacity while maintaining the same unwavering commitment to quality.

By about 8 AM, all the goods were baked, and the dough for the next batch would be ready and formed by noon, then left to do its thing overnight. Jyan took some time out to sit down with me and answer a few questions.

Before he was a baker, he was passionate about music, he tells me. He was a Jazz drummer. He draws clear parallels between baking and playing Jazz. “There is so much creativity with Jazz because it’s all improvised. It’s the same with bread. The bread that I make is based on tradition, improvisation, and creativity. Both are practices and take much patience and discipline,” he says. “They are both physical pursuits, very tactile.” It made me realize that with Jazz as well as with baking, mind, memory, and intuition guide the hands’ actions and movements in service of a higher purpose.

Baking for Jyan, he says, started when he first walked into Tartine bakery on a trip to San Francisco and tasted the sourdough bread by famed baker Chad Robertson. He was hooked then and there. Experimenting at home initially, and eventually pursuing baking full time. He was lucky to find employment at Gjusta where the Venice native loved to immerse himself in the entirety of the experience. He found a great mentor in Travis Lett, the acclaimed Chef, who would leave shortly before the pandemic forced the operation to close its doors in 2020.

When asked what advice he wishes he could have given himself before embarking on this journey, he doesn’t hesitate: “When someone talks to you about wanting to start a business backing your idea, and wants you to be partners, get an agreement in writing before sharing all your knowledge and tools of the trade with them.” Apparently, he had to learn the hard way. Visibly still bothered, he points towards the bagel shop literally next door. Incredulously and somewhat clumsily, I deflect his answer, suggesting he should find comfort in knowing to be the real deal, and that time will inevitably separate the wheat from the chaff.

As to how he balances life and work, he somewhat unsurprisingly insists that there really isn’t that much separation between the two. He likes spending time with his girlfriend, trying out new restaurants, feels at home along the southern California coast, and loves to fly planes out of Santa Monica airport. His real commitment, he maintains, is to the business and the people he employs. “These guys know everything about me. I don’t hold back. They mean everything to me. I’m still amazed sometimes that I get to be surrounded by all these good people and that I can help them make a living, support their families.”

Perhaps more surprising was Jyan’s answer when I asked him what the bravest thing was that he had done in his young life. Half expecting his biggest bravery would be related to his current business venture, I was equal parts surprised and impressed when he confided that the bravest thing he had done was to look within. “Until about a year ago, I had never allowed myself to truly access my feelings, to talk about them. I kept everything bottled up inside,” he shared. He started daring to ask deeper questions about himself, his fears, his motivations, past trauma, about behaviors and habits that didn’t serve him any longer. He decided to undergo a series of frequent and intense psychotherapy sessions over the past year. “It has been incredibly healing. I’m opening up and talking about my life, and understanding who I am. It’s been a really big year for me.”

As I was packing up to leave, I realized that I felt strangely more grounded. It’s the rare encounter with someone like Jyan that reminds us of all the good things that can come from paying more attention to the moment.

WAVES MAGAZINE JYAN ISAAC

PHOTO by Tim Akunis

"There's a common misconception that conservation is anti-development," says Catherine Azimi, Communications Manager for the Santa Monica Conservancy. Azimi and Executive Director Kaitlin Drisko are seated around a small desk in the iconic Shotgun House, the Conservancy's headquarters—an example of historic preservation via adaptive reuse. "In truth, we often collaborate with developers to ensure that projects are historically sensitive. Historic preservation can be entirely compatible with the needs of an evolving city”, Azimi suggests.

The Santa Monica Conservancy was founded in 2002 as a grassroots, nonprofit organization, dedicated to promoting widespread understanding and appreciation of the cultural, social, economic and environmental benefits of historic preservation. Since then, the Conservancy has emerged as one of the leading voices in the city’s conservation movement. Under the guidance of Executive Director Kaitlin Drisko, a seasoned expert in historic preservation, the Conservancy is poised to meet current challenges. “Conservation projects are not only about structures, they are also about people. I like to think we connect people across time”, Drisko says, “and in order to truly understand present day Santa Monica one needs to understand the past.”

Indeed, long before its modern landmarks, before the hustle and bustle of the pier and the promenade, before the high-end shops and restaurants, the multimillion-dollar Spanish colonial revival homes around Montana Avenue, the modest California bungalows, and the youthful energy emanating from its educational institutions, the area was home to the Tongva people; their villages and sacred sites, the only manmade markers dotting this landscape.

As time’s wheel turned, their settlements were displaced by a built environment accommodating the needs of the Spanish colonists, Mexican ranchers, and later, the waves of American settlers who anchored their dreams on this coastal stretch of land. As the pace of development hastened, especially during the mid-late 20th century, most of the sites bearing witness to this history would have been lost, were it not for the efforts of those advocating for the importance of preserving and honoring our collective story.

While the Conservancy plays an important role in protecting important sites of our past, its deeper mission is creating community around a sense of a shared history, according to Drisko. In recent years, the organization has played a crucial role in facilitating public discourse around fundamental questions such as what constitutes historical significance and how best to support and align the diverse interests of the various stakeholders.

Inspired by a renewed focus and interest on the many facets of Santa Monica’s cultural heritage, in 2020 the Conservancy launched a virtual series, Santa Monica Mosaic, which gives voice to underrepresented and 'forgotten' histories. Episodes feature representatives from a variety of different backgrounds speaking to their own lived experiences, including one Japanese-American family’s story of assimilation back into the city post-internment during WWII, a commemoration of the African American experience at the Belmar Triangle through the Belmar Art + History project, and a chronicle of European Jewish migration to the 'promised sand' of Santa Monica. “Conservation can no longer be seen simply as a matter of preserving structures, but also ensuring that the tales they house—tales from all of the city’s communities—are valued and given voice," Drisko explains. “Adaptive reuse is key to balancing historical preservation with modern needs.” Azimi points to the former Sears building, historic Nikkei Hall, the Santa Monica Professional Building, and the Associated Telephone Building as examples of successful adaptive reuse projects that reimagine historic properties for contemporary use.

Under Drisko’s leadership, the Conservancy is set for expansive community outreach. She’s especially keen on celebrating Santa Monica’s upcoming milestones—its 150th birthday in 2025 and the influx of international visitors for the 2028 Olympic Games. “At its core”, she states, “the Conservancy believes in a simple yet powerful idea: A city that understands its past is better equipped to navigate its future.”

For those wanting to immerse themselves in Santa Monica's rich cultural heritage, the Conservancy offers a variety of in-person, or downloadable self-guided tours, and virtual programs that invite visitors and locals alike to journey through time, from the Tongva settlements to modern-day marvels. Azimi reflects: "What I found in preservation is that people really are gratified to understand and have literacy around the built environment they inhabit because it gives people orientation… a sense of place. If a city doesn't have history, arguably, it doesn't have meaning.”

WAVES MAGAZINE – THE SANTA MONICA CONSERVANCY

PHOTO by Tim Akunis

Perhaps it was the quality of the light, the palpable sense of freedom and possibility or simply an abundance of affordable raw spaces, that first drew significant 20th-century artists like Ray Ray and Charles Eames, Richard Diebenkorn, Sam Francis, Ed Ruscha, and John Baldessari to Santa Monica and the surrounding area. Whatever the reason, their choice to take up residence during important stages of their careers undeniably helped place Santa Monica firmly on Southern California's mid-century art map.

Today, the city hosts over 120 museums, galleries, and public art installations within its mere 8 square miles—a testament to the community embracing the transformative power of art.  “With a rich collection of public art and a diverse creative population, Santa Monica is dedicated to the belief that art is a basic city service and is essential to our city’s continued vitality,” proclaims the city's Cultural Affairs website. Beyond serving as a central hub for grants, competitions, and other resources aimed at both working and aspiring artists, the website meticulously catalogs Santa Monica's extensive public art collection alongside an interactive map and a regularly updated list of 'must-see' art pieces and their respective locations.

Bergamot Station Arts Complex The city is home to a notable concentration of world-renowned art galleries, especially in areas like Bergamot Station, a collection of 18 galleries clustered together on a nearly 5-acre repurposed train yard. Bergamot Station welcomes the community to a uniquely curated art experience and regular events, as well as providing a little oasis in an industrial part of Santa Monica, perfect for a drink with friends, or just a bite to eat.

Robert Berman Gallery “The independent galleries at Bergamot Station Arts Center showcase the most current developments in contemporary and modern art, offering a space, free to the public, to immerse themselves in an art experience”, explains Robert Berman. When he relocated the eponymous Robert Berman Gallery—originally founded in the late '70s—to its current premises, Berman became one of the inaugural tenants of the art complex, occupying the two spaces he still holds today. Berman also operates Santa Monica Auctions, an internationally renowned auction house. Berman's gallery was among the first to showcase works by seminal artists such as Keith Haring, Raymond Pettibon, William S. Burroughs, and Man Ray, right here in Santa Monica.


Gallery XII Galerie XII opened here in 2018. The gallery is the Santa Monica location of its Paris affiliate, also owned by Valerie-Anne Giscard d’Estaing, a publisher, who entered into the gallery business in 2007 with a focus on contemporary photography. D’Estaing credits the communal spirit, the sense of place, she experiences at Bergamot Station for her decision to open her gallery here. “There’s close collaboration between all of us tenants, there’s good energy. Of course everyone is competing, but in reality our collective presence broadens the offering to visitors and potential buyers.”

Lois Lambert Gallery Lois Lambert Gallery represents over 100 artists from the United States, Latin America, South America, Europe and Asia. According to Lois Lambert herself, she is “dedicated to bringing thoughtful, sometimes provocative, and always original art to the public.” She acknowledges that there are challenges to operating an art gallery in today’s environment. She cites rising costs and shifting economic models in the art world as examples of what she’s up against. “In a market that favors household name artists able to drive online sales, it's increasingly difficult representing up-and coming and mid-career artists. “But it’s all about adapting to changing times.” Over time she’s added an upstairs gallery to create more exhibition space, and also curates a gallery store, where she sells artist-made objects, ceramics, and other unique gift items. “I’ve been at it for 35 years,” she admits. “I still love the gallery and discovering artists. I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

While Santa Monica’s galleries contribute greatly to the community, it is arguably Santa Monica’s non-profit arts institutions that have the most profound impact on the city’s essence.

18th Street Arts Center ”At 18th Street, we’re committed to creating opportunities for artists to help build the kinds of healthy communities they want to live in," Jan Williamson, Executive Director of 18th Street Arts Center says of the longest running artist residency in Southern California. “We host about 60 artists concurrently and help the city manage 40 low-cost artists’ studios at the Santa Monica Airport, where we host monthly open-studio shows”, she explains, “adding to the community's identity and sense of pride.”

As an example of creative placemaking, Williamson points to 18th Street’s ongoing Culture Mapping Project. “Essentially it is a community produced map, highlighting the history and cultural assets of a given neighborhood. “Cultural assets can be people, places, events, and organizations, both past and present, that serve as cultural anchors within any given community,” Williamson explains. “These are places that define the identity of the neighborhood, according to the people who live there.” Once the stories are collected, the center pairs artists with community partners to initiate projects that address these specific needs or desires, and in the process inform various community policies and programs. Since its inception in 2015, the center has implemented about 70 of these culture mapping projects in Santa Monica alone, and recently have been funded to expand the program to other communities all across California.

It’s a testament to Williamson’s belief that art plays an important role in community engagement and well-being. “Especially in this post-pandemic environment, people are searching for meaningful connections and a sense of belonging – and arts and culture provide an important way of doing that,” Williamson concludes.

Frieze Los Angeles Another noteworthy event returning to Santa Monica for its fourth edition is “Frieze Los Angeles,” the prestigious international art fair, featuring over 120 of the world’s leading galleries. “Santa Monica airport was selected for its abundance of space and flexibility that meets our ambitious plans for the fair, allowing us to welcome innovative art and ideas across all forms of creativity”, explains Christine Messineo, director of Frieze New York and Los Angeles. Frieze Los Angeles will take flight February 29 - March 3. 

So, next time you’re out and about in Santa Monica, and perhaps you’re passing one of the city’s many public sculptures or murals, remember in Santa Monica, art isn't merely a commodity—it's both a mirror and a maker of a vibrant community.

PHOTO by Tim Akunis

The Topanga Film Festival—traditionally—has always been staged under the glow of a full moon. Or, at the least, tried to be in its vicinity as the weekends rolled around. The festival, in its young, nascent years, found its footing in the July or August moons. But as life’s pursuits took turns—some planned, some circumstantial —the festival began to bend to those forces, eventually nesting in the fall, around Labor Day.

Now, the moon. It’s not just a celestial body. It’s a marker—of time, intent, and—well, in the context of the film festival, audacity. That’s what came to mind when contemplating what it truly takes to pull off a film fest in a place like Topanga. Here’s a town, nestled in a canyon, often grumbling about its lack of public amenities, like parking, venues, accommodations, and then septic systems.
While the practicalities should quickly discourage the endeavor, the spirit whispers ‘perfect’. There’s something innately Topanga-esque about gathering folks from all over, under the open skies, and celebrating stories, creativity, activism and a shared love for the art of cinema.

Topanga, serenely detached from the surrounding urban hustle, has long been a magnet for the creative soul. The film and entertainment fabric of the larger area has many threads reaching into this canyon, and we find ourselves amidst filmmakers, artists, storytellers—neighbors and friends who not just resonate with the festival’s ethos, but more often than not, want to support and jump in. They’ve been the backbone, the soul, offering their craft, insights, and a whole lot of personal sacrifice to make the festival the global fest it has become.

A week ago, witnessing the rise of the magnificent Pisces Moon, I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach. A cocktail of anticipation, anxiety, and excitement. This lunar clockwork, for the past 17 festivals, has been the harbinger of that frenzied final lap. The “One Moon to Festival” realization has been the cue to rev up, to rally the troops, and to anticipate the s-curves ahead, known and unknown.

This year things feel a tad different. Could be because, for the first time, TFF is syncing up with a waxing moon. So, the second August full moon was a gentle reminder that there’s still a moon-and-a-half to go. But more so, this year, the source of my relative tranquility has been the rock-solid team – their passion, competence, dedication, and the combined experience of them all, many who’ve been in this dance since the festival’s baby steps.

What does it take to present the 18th edition of the Topanga Film Festival? Much. Behind those curtains that will rise are countless hours of toil—in producing, programming, outreach, fundraising, and all the other minute details that need to fall in place. But when October 19th dawns, it all comes together, seamlessly. And as you, our community, our collaborators, our artists, step in to share and experience the stories on and off the screens, the discussions, the festivities – know that it’s been a labor of love, audacity, and a bit of moon magic.Audacious, after all, is about daring to dream, being recklessly bold, and dancing—preferably, by the light of the moon.