Chocolate & Chalk Art Festival in Berkeley

Hot and hungry, we were driving around Berkeley yesterday in search of lunch and happened to roll past a gathering of food trucks. The words Hongry Kong splashed on the side of the first truck spoke loud and clear to my growling stomach. HK cafe fare on wheels? Perfection! All fueled up, we strolled past the food, sifting through booths filled with local arts & crafts. Just a few steps in, a man with his young child tapped us on the shoulder and hurriedly explained that he had to leave and offered us the extra tickets he didn't use. Free tickets? What for? Tastings of chocolates and other bits and bites along the way? Seemed rude to not accept, so accept we did. Street fairs and weekend farmers markets are always worth a wander, and here, we'd lucked upon Berkeley's 17th annual Chocolate and Chalk Art Festival.

Adult Brownie on the menu.. How very Berkeley. 

Chocolate and chalk art? This might sound like an odd combination, but so far, our 16 months worth of experiencing life in the Bay Area has taught us that nothing is out of the ordinary here. Anything and everything goes. And really, I couldn't think of a better way to spend the afternoon than nibbling at mini chocolate chocolate cupcakes and watching this artsy community color their ideas all over the sidewalk in the hot, hot sun. Here's a sample of some of the works in progress we were treated to (my favorite's the last one, Colorful Roots):

Knee socks in the background appeared to be getting ready for some sort of street performance.

Berkeley campus

Chocolate Mousetraps

My favorite panel here is obviously the brontosaurus sunset :D

"Old Time Jazz for the New Depression"

Chocolate Milkshake :)

Seattle Walk

       

Early in December, I wound up with a full day all to myself in Seattle. Despite the freezing cold temps (compared to California, anyway), I decided to explore the city. Equipped with hunter boots, an umbrella, and googlemaps, I started my walking tour in the only area I was really familiar with in Seattle - Pike Place Market. 

It doesn't seem to matter how many times I've gone through Pike Place... I still love taking in the sights, sounds and smells of all the hustle and bustle, fresh seafood, vibrantly colored produce, and tasty food options.

No trip to Pike Place would feel complete without a few selections from my favorite one-stop spice and tea shop. Market Spice opened up in 1911, and there's just something about this place that makes you want to reach for as many biggie jars as you can and breathe in the different deliciousness each container has to offer (I imagine myself as Sophie discovering the BFG's dream jars in one of my favorite Roald Dahl children's books). This time, I followed my nose to a spicy vindaloo curry and a salt-free mild chili powder, then ended up returning the next day with my boyfriend as he was disappointed I didn't pick up any loose teas!

After getting the usual routine out of the way, I took some time getting lost trying to find the famous Market Theater Gum Wall, which actually happened to be right beneath the busy Pike Place Market, in Post Alley. These brick alley walls began amassing chewed up gum in 1993 when theater goers, mainly college kids, stuck their gum on the wall while waiting in line for tickets. Attempts to scrape the walls clean were in vain and theater workers eventually gave up. This ever-growing collection was ranked the 2nd "germiest" tourist spot in the world by TripAdvisor... Ew! Unfortunately, I didn't have any gum in my purse, but next time, I'd like to contribute a brightly colored spot of my own bacteria to this collaborative art project. 

 

Several steps away, the gum meets a different form of street art - the wall beneath the market overpass is a heavy collage of graffiti, wheatpasting and stickers. 

 

In and around Pike Place Market, it's hard not to notice a variety of pigs in unexpected spaces. The most famous pig, Rachel, designed by Georgia Gerber, sits staunchly (well... save one incident involving a taxi in Feb 2011...) in the entrance of the market, and serves as a 550lb bronze piggy bank, raising funds, in all sorts of currency, for the renovation project that saved Pike Place Market from demolition in the early 70s. Since Rachel, 100 more pigs, each designed by a different local artist, were created for Pigs on Parade to raise funds for the Market Foundation which provides important social services for low-income earners.

Past the pigs, and after a well-timed sushi break during a heavy rain shower, about a 20-25min wander down Western Ave, is Olympic Sculpture Park, one of the few green spaces in the downtown area. In 2007, the Seattle Art Museum (SAM) transformed what was once an industrial site into a free-admission public park, containing several large sculptures and art displays. 

Inside the pavilion at Olympic Sculpture Park is Encontro das Aguas (Encounter of Waters), a fantastic mural by Sandra Cinto that spans an entire wall. The blue and silvery image instantly reminded me of Hokusai's The Great Wave off Kanagawa, the famous Japanese woodblock print of a huge wave looming over fast boats and their rowers. While Encounter of Waters also conjures danger and despair through the dizzying height and span of the waves as they tumble through the window and continue on to the exterior of the pavilion, the lines and patterns within each wave suggest to me some form of order, and within it, a source of calm. A wooden boat is set in front of the mural, apart from the spiraling waves, perhaps representing the idea of hope in an ominous situation. 

The park takes you on a zig-zagging path since it is cut in a z-shape by concrete dividers. While I didn't love Alexander Calder's 39ft tall, orange, steel Eagle, it is undeniably the focal point of the park. More than the Eagle itself, I particularly enjoyed the arrangement of red chairs along the way and the cityscape background, complete with Space Needle. 

Walking past the Eagle, towards West Meadow, be sure to walk down Skinner Trail. The trees that line this trail truly have eyes. It's like some fantastic fairy-tale art piece, occurring naturally in, well, nature. These enchanted trees are stubborn though... I lost in every staring contest with them. 

My favorite installation at Olympic Sculpture Park is Love & Loss by Roy McMakin, a mixed media piece incorporating natural elements of the park with park benches and tables. The artist's explanation is an important accompaniment:

"We live in a world of words and objects. How they become special and take on meaning is fascinating to me. My sculptures are functional but they also have content that you discover through participation. You need to put the meaning together by sitting on it, walking through it, and then recomposing what you have seen and experienced in your mind's eye. Only then will the theme - the process of love and loss - be revealed for you to sit here and contemplate."  

As the rain came down harder, I splashed my way back towards the warmth of our hotel in the downtown core. I was stopped in my tracks by a courtyard of stunning electric blue trees in Westlake Park, just across from Macy's, and amidst all the Christmas shopping frenzy. The project and the message are wonderfully meaningful. Konstantin Dimopoulos painted trees in Melbourne, Vancouver and Virginia, before creating his visual display in Seattle in April 2012. Using environmentally-safe, water based pigments on trees in urban spaces, Dimopoulos aims to raise awareness of the millions of acres of forests destroyed around the world each year, and to bring focus to the spirituality of trees and our dependence upon them for our own survival. 

 

By this point, my California-climatized body was shivering from the cold of winter in Seattle. I shut my walk down in favor of a hot coffee and an even hotter shower, feeling satisfied enough with my day's discoveries and newly acquired sense of appreciation for this city. 

A Few Favorites from Crocker

Hmm... the trend (based on this, and my only other post so far) would indicate this is an art obsessed blog since both posts highlight incredible artwork, but it's more that recent adventures have involved art. Plus I get crazy inspired by beauty, creation and interpretation! 

Last weekend's road trip included an unexpected detour to Sacramento (my first time there), and while the lighting of the Christmas tree in Old SacTo was (eagerly) festive, and the chicken vindaloo in Midtown was so delectably spicy it gave me a welt in the back of my throat from excessive chili pepper consumption, the highlight of my stay was definitely the Crocker Art Museum (thanks, TripAdvisor!). Here are some of the pieces I was most struck by.

The gentle motion of this first piece caught my eye as I'd barely even stepped past the lobby. Swaying in the stairway leading up to the second floor is Rapunzel #10, an animated projection by American installation artist, Jennifer Steinkamp. This enchanted garland immediately brought to my mind fairy tale princesses in magical lands (think Stephen Cosgrove's Serendipity children's books series from the '70s, specifically the ones with Morgan the unicorn) and indeed, this installation is associated with the Brothers Grimm's Rapunzel, a story involving addiction, hair and flowers. In Rapunzel, a pregnant mother, addicted to rampion or rapunzel flowers, was caught stealing from a witch's garden to satisfy her craving, and forced to give up her unborn child, Rapunzel. The witch placed Rapunzel high up in a tower with no outlet but one window, where she grew her golden hair long enough to cast out the window each time the witch called, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair. Steinkamp often includes nature-based imagery in her digital artwork, creating fascinating, hypnotic environments in architectural spaces. 

A few steps past and around the corner from the mesmerizing stairwell, was this bold multi-paneled work of art. I don't recall whether there were "do not touch" signs near this piece, but I most definitely touched it. I couldn't help myself! The brilliant yet simple color combinations were slathered on so thickly, the grooves just begged my fingers to run over them to gain full appreciation of the generosity with which the medium was applied. The design is simple, symmetric, and uses so much paint that it takes 5 days to dry!! True, if there's any art feature that turns me on, it almost always involves incredible texture achieved by applying healthy amounts of paint. The artist, Albert Contreras, donated this untitled piece to the museum because he painted so prolifically, he ran out of space to store his work (umm.. please donate something to me?). Contreras painted through the 60s and into the early 70s, then took a 25-year break to drive garbage trucks, do road repairs and operate heavy machinery before finding his way back to art in 1997. And when he returned to painting, he did so ferociously, purchasing yards of canvas and hundreds of buckets of acrylics, and forming contraptions from trowels, spatulas and putty knives to use as his paintbrush. To quote Contreras in his 2009 interview with the LA Times, "I have paintings coming out of my ears."

A large portion of the second floor was devoted to Norman Rockwell, whose work is a reflection of American life and culture. Most striking is the long hallway lined with the illustrations Rockwell is best-known for: 323 covers for the Saturday Evening Post, including portraits of JFK, Nixon and Nehru. 

Beyond the Rockwell exhibit, this 4'x5' grayscale composition stopped me right in my tracks for two reasons: the impressive pieces, and the imposing whole. Each of the 344 separate tiles bear intricate images, including various scenes of war-torn cities, death and destruction, along with close ups of ears, the heart and brain, all coming together to form an up-close portrait of George W. Bush. Appropriately named, All Nations Have Their Moment of Foolishness, this 2006 work of art by Richard Notkin clearly left an impression on me, though I wish the museum included the Artist's Statement as an accompaniment: 

We have stumbled into the 21st Century with the technologies of 'Star Wars' and the emotional maturity of cavemen. If we can't find more creative solutions to solving worldwide social and political problems than sending young men and women to shred and incinerate one another's flesh with weapons of ever increasing efficiency, we will not survive to celebrate the passage into the 22nd Century -- the problems of human civilization are far too complex to be solved by means of explosive devices. And our country and too many of our world's nations are now in the hands of right wing thugs and fundamentalist tyrants who are fumbling the planet towards World War III. I continue to make ceramic sculptures which reflect on the social and political dilemmas of our world. As André Malraux observed, "Art is a revolt against man's fate". Need I say more?                                                                                                                             

                                                                                               - Richard Notkin

Epidemic by Guy Colwell, was completed 2009, the year when the H1N1 swine flu pandemic hit. This one spoke to me mostly because I'm a bit of a germaphobe... I mean, I don't go overboard to the point where I rock a face mask everywhere I go, but I definitely use paper towels to avoid direct contact with sink knobs and door handles in public bathrooms (shudder)! Movies like Contagion and Outbreak seriously stress me out. 

Matt Duffin's Crowd Control is particularly interesting to me for two different reasons: the medium and the message.                                                                                                     This piece is an encaustic (wax on illustration board), which I am fascinated by. Having only played with encaustic a few times and experienced how fluid and unpredictable the material can be, I am intrigued by how meticulous and precise this piece is.                                                                                                      The placard alongside Crowd Control poses the question, "Who is being controlled and by whom?" For me, the control box and plug-in evoked Puyi, the last Emperor of China, who "reigned" from the age of 2yrs, 10mos, for four years. Then in the years leading up to the second Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese took over Manchuria and installed the adult Puyi as the puppet leader (1934-1945) of Manchukuo to create some semblance of legitimacy, though he was never more than a figurehead as true power lay in the hands of the Japanese military. 

I enjoyed Bean Finneran's 20,000 Turquoise Curves mainly because it looked like it could be a midget Christmas tree out of Dr. Seuss-land. Taking inspiration from the natural beauty of the marshlands north of San Francisco, the artist assembled the sculpture piece by piece, rolling each clay curve by hand, and it seems both the process and the product are illustrative of ordered chaos. (And yes, I did see the "do not touch" sign this time, but it's not my fault... and it could be argued that the turquoise curves reached out and touched me!)

This untitled work in Gottfried Helnwein's painting series, Disasters of War, is simply striking. The image of this child is haunting and saddening, standing head bowed, with all the consequences of war weighing down on her shoulders (military uniform), and is perhaps testament to his own childhood, having been born in Vienna during the Holocaust. 

This final piece is my absolute favorite: Portrait of My Father took Stephen Kaltenbach 7yrs to complete in his barn in California. Truly a memorial to a loved one's passing from one life to the next, this enormous work of art contains both light and shadow, while the pale design woven in with the face and hair give off the illusion of transparency and translucency. I am obsessed and fascinated by this portrait. To give some perspective as to size, the angle in this next photo shows the painting next to a tall doorway, upon which Gerald Heffernon's 2.3-foot tall Giant California Robin sculpture is perched. 

Even the aumtum-colored trees in the park out front were beautiful. All in all, a wonderful experience. Until next time, Crocker!