Finding the (Getty) Center

Heat and Community



We waded through the heat to the car, submitting to the fact that today we would understand casseroles felt as they bake. The air condition gave up as we headed North on the 405 to the Getty Center. It had been years. Years and years since the Getty opened and finally I was going to see the place. The parking garage was a sauna, but the man in the orange vest who waved us towards the empty parking spaces, smiled kindly, so much so that we wanted to tell his boss how wonderful he was. We found a space, ditched what items we didn’t need in our purses into the back seat of the car and headed towards the elevator, the tram, up the stairs, into the wonderfully air conditioned Getty Center. We pulled out the informative brochures. We noted the smoothed-line archetechure contrasted with the travertine and decided which gallery we ought to head towards. Photos and Paintings. There were communal vats of beige umbrellas one could use as she walked from building to building to protect from the sun. Many were already employing these for moments of shade, making the mulling crowds look like a Monet painting from the era of lace and parasols, or a crowded sidewalk in Manila. We reached for one of the beige umbrellas as though it was an invitation into community. The community of art and enjoyment. If the heat had not felt like an itchy wool blanket, I may have started skipping.



Enjoying Art



The exhibit we saw was Eliot Portor. The first photos were of birds. We started play again of re-naming the photos we found funny when they were supposed to be serious. The birds were eh, we decided, but as we strolled in to the room of color landscapes, the artist astounded us. His use of framing nature with nature, perspectives and an eye for finding color like a feather tickling a part of your soul that had been untouched and forgotten.

We walked from photo to photo, room to room, allowing the art to manipulate and woo us, allowing ourselves to dream and sigh with each new sight.


Wide Open spaces

My city block is very crowded: houses meant for single families have been subdivided, lawns have been paved to make more parking spaces, the single palm tree is ringed with old McDonald’s burger wrappers, thrown away couches and graffiti. The Getty is on a ridge and you can see into the distance in every direction, all the way to the Santa Monica Bay. Every direction is breathable. Wide open spaces found in the middle of Los Angeles. Being able to see so far while breathing swells up hope in me like a balloon that never reaches the point of bursting.



Looking up the skirts of flowers.

In the garden we named a few plants. Pleased to meet you, Bonnie, a belled yellow flower who wore long ballerina twirling skirts and Pleased to meet you Beethoven, a plant so pet-able and green he almost made me cry with his sincerity. We curtsied and laughed our way around the fountains and flowers.


Feasting on Friendship and Green

We had already eaten our picnic salad by the time we found the lawn, we sat none the less, by the wall that lent us shade. We volleyed thoughts in an effortless game of coversation. We people watched. We laid on our backs, putting our feet up the wall, seeing deeper and deeper into the blue. We sat in moments of silent.

I thought about praying. But realized, I had no words to say to God. My heart was already full of him. This was contentedness. Sitting here was already singing his praises. Each breath was gratitude. Peace, even though I knew the day would end. Peace, even though I knew the sun would set. Peace, even though I was sitting on hill looking down into a city full of suffering, suffering that I was a part of, suffering that I had chosen into. Peace admist the flowers, the tourists, and the heat.