Picture this: Greek Theater. Berkeley, CA. FAVORITE band of all time on stage. High vantage point, looking out across all of the faces/heads/bodies, bathed at points in the orange and green glow of stage lights. the familiar twinkles of light begin to show up in the pit. but wait. there’s something different. ciao (goodbye) to the ember colored twinkle of real flame – ciao (hello) to the blue-white unblinking glow of raised cell phones. WHAT!?

this was a sad, sad moment. I realize that in this day and age nothing should be surprising in the way of technology taking it’s place in every aspect of our lives…but…come…on….we can’t even get real flame from all of the people of BERKELEY?? these are the most liberal, pot-legalizing, grass-root, tree-sitting folks around, and they have replaced our beloved butane lighter-fire with cellular glow??

at least the music goes on…

tonight on the books, some chat time with Kevin, SF City Dish writer, editor, daily dealer….hatching ideas to hammer the world with food, art, and community inspiration – soon to be followed by more blog updates on what’s been shaking down at the lovely 5 Claude Lane gallery, upcoming for Claude Lane, and perhaps a few words of….wisdom? nope. prophetic advice on dealing with the crises of today’s modern society? nah. How about just a little bit of gallerina rambling? coming up.

I’m trying my yoga breath to release that energy (I think I need more practice cause it’s only partially working)… The silence in the room is truly golden, most of my days are constant motion, flurries of people, moments of down time and then back to the run again. If the walls feel like they’re closing in now, I can only imagine how I’ll feel when I’m in the gallery full time, I told fcl maybe he should just get me a straightjacket to keep me in my white plywood padded room cause I may just go bat-shit crazy….

I’ll get over it.

here are some photo updates

My favorite moment from any classical concert/concerto is the moment of silence that falls when the orchestra begins to ‘warm up’ right before the composer brings everyone together. That moment is magical, filled with light and hope, and the senses know they are about to careen into any number of different avenues of highs and lows as the music begins. Tonight I am visiting my favorite theater – The Paramount – in downtown Oakland for the Oakland East Bay Symphony’s ‘Notes from Armenia’ featuring “the brilliant young Siberian-born violinist Mikhail Simoyan”…who, by the way, is 23 years old. Wistful in my memory of being 23, how I wish I had already started my violin lessons at that age….

As the years pass we are likely to see less and less funding for students in music and the arts….often the most under-valued parts of today’s public school education and yet so markedly important in helping to shape the mind, creativity, and produce more balanced human beings. See article for those interested in learning more… Music and the Mind

For 5 summers now my family and I have begun our own way to give back, specifically to the local elementary school where three generations of our family have attended…and we admittedly have a bit of fun doing it as well. We throw a private party amidst my father’s vines, build a stage, create art projects and feature between 5-8 bands…some years we have created a raffle, others just asked for donations…we barbeque, we talk, we laugh, we dance, we play foozeball, ping-pong, and lounge in hammocks (it’s true we’ve had a streaker, a giant slip n’ slide, and an all night barn dance in the past)…. through this we all come together to form a little slice of inter-connected community, raising funds earmarked to directly benefit music and art for children. It’s an all night event – from live music to dj’s, barn painting and donated photographs, friends set up tents in the fields to crawl back to when the last strains of music float through the vines. Early morning bloody mary’s revive the following day… and I am left each year with a slightly aching head as well as the distinct notion that we have given a small contribution to continuing the musical and artistic education of hopefully at least a few young students. Every little bit helps. And, it’s never too late to begin….one day, maybe soon, I will jump onto the stage in the vines and be able to play you a tune….even if it’s a midnight lullaby of ‘twinkle, twinkle, little star’….

My vision of the space is a supporter of relevant and interesting art & artists, a community meeting place, a forum for education, and a truly unique place to dine privately. How important a name is can be clearly reflected in so many products, stores, brands that we are bombarded with every day. The name should reflect the character of the space, those who run it, and those who will support it….and then there are the real-world considerations…I don’t want it to sound too ‘quippy’, too ‘commercial’, too night-clubbish, too soft, too hard, too institutional, nor too ‘artsy’.

I do want it to resonate, to have weight when the mouth forms it’s sound, to be serious and professional, and to bring immediate feeling of the space itself when it rolls off the tongue. It was recently suggested to me that I name the gallery using my own first name, Leila ~ but for me this feels too pretentious and possibly requires more self importance than I’ve currently got going…and so I go to what meanings tie me to the gallery…five, it’s numerical importance in personal, historical, and social context, the mythical nature it holds, meanings, symbols, goals, and I come to a resting point briefly thinking about the word, Internos. Among us….between us….a lovely little Latin word that exemplifies the meaning I want to attain in the gallery itself. Where this process will lead I have yet to see….this could get interesting….

Can we even imagine though the utter devastation of an already poverty stricken, underdeveloped nation and what they are now facing? More directly – are we able to empathize with them and then take action? The response by our President and government has been swift and decisive, sensitive and strong – and we are certainly not the only ones, many countries were immediate in responding to the crisis, with all of the rescue workers, aid givers, doctors rushing into an unstable and possibly dangerous situation for themselves. This has to be the best side of humanity. We are, on a global scale, witnessing through video and live feed another example of the great power that lies within us all – to care. To be empathetic.

Here are two of my favorite basic definitions of empathy, for the personal and artistic sides:

1. the power of understanding and imaginatively entering into another person’s feelings
2. the attribution to an object, such as a work of art, of one’s own emotional or intellectual feelings about it

We all have choices about what kind of empathy we give and to whom, and for what. Some of us on a personal level have very little empathy, others overwhelming, even to the point of self-damaging. Through life (and art) we all can re-determine our paths and how much we are willing to give, not just to others but to ourselves. I am proud of the efforts we as Americans and San Franciscans are showing this crisis and the people affected, and there is still more to give – and to understand.

As I have decided that resolutions are for sucka’s, this post will include no new ways to loft aspirations (that will undoubtedly crash miserably sooner rather than later), nor will any grandiose advice be lauded for the upcoming greatness that lies in the ’10. Although this year does hold the promise of something magical…and I say promise with that same crooked smile that had me laughing in curious pain, down my paths of ’09.

The magic this year holds comes in a plethora of different fronts – political, social, economic…so many possibilities, and so many avenues we can all choose from in making our slightly more wise decisions (I feel more wise, don’t you?). I’m making it my personal mission this year to laugh more. I’m known to tell others, jokingly, that I’m ‘a barrel of laughs’ already, however the average pre-schooler laughs approximately 400 times per day – and kids (whether you wanna hang with ‘em or not) are usually pretty damned happy. I’m so far shy of that 400 I can’t even imagine what that would feel like in my body – hmm, new miracle abdominal workout? Imagine the infomercial possibilities…

While I’m not timid to laugh out loud at the numerous follies I have thrown myself against this past year (as well as those of my friends), I am looking ahead to a year filled with discussion, change, and learning. Laughter can only help us to grow more quickly, right? And grow we must…

The challenge will be to laugh at the good and the bad – to see ourselves as the delightfully awkward beings we are, and find the humor in it all. To recognize the ever growing need for a bonded community, a much more inherent sense of empathy and the willingness to work even harder to shape our futures…now, wouldn’t that give us all the last laugh?

him: “we’re all going to burn in hell”

me: “I dont know, I think hell might be more fun than heaven”

him: “it’s all about food, depends on what you have to eat”

How important are good eats? In this city, pretty damned up there…

It is a special number for me. It has always played an important role in my life – beyond the well-known attributes (5 fingers, 5 senses, etc.) 5 is sentimental, the number itself carries weight in it’s tie to my history. The very first apartment I lived in by myself, my first real apartment in San Francisco was a grand #5…a newly carpeted outer Ave’s studio just down the block from Trader Sam’s. I still have very tender memories of this studio…fire engines blaring at all hours across the street, the crazy biker who lived in the building and had creepy eyes, many many nights of dinners, movies, wine, long and often hilarious bus rides getting to downtown…the start of my crazy city life. And when it came time to move – rather than carry down the old couch I had, the boys and I decided to throw it out the window, 5 stories below, ahhh the joyous days of youth.

At the same time, the first job position that I negotiated myself into inside the city (at the tender age of 20) was located on 5th, where across the way on Market St groups of men would sit playing chess- one of my co-workers always threatened to go down and show them ‘what was up’ when he whipped out his game of battleship.

Of course neither the apartment nor the job were permanent in my life but they held vital roles in shaping who I was and where I would end up. During this time I earned the nickname from ‘the boys’ of Seppa 5. After moving me in, and then moving me out, the name stuck.

5 has also played important roles in the years that followed, 5 was my apartment number again in Nob Hill where I lived with my then-boyfriend and at that time 5 was the number of years he & I had been together. This time was especially influential as I had just begun working in Claude Lane, I was full time in school, and trying to balance all of the factors a busy life holds. It has officially been 5 years since I moved into that apartment. In a few months I will celebrate 5 years of my Claude Lane employment, at almost exactly the same time that the new Gallery at 5 Claude will officially open her doors.

I’m willing to wager that this year will be something special, that the gallery marks an indelible change in me and in the Lane. 5 is the name of the game. Who wants to bet?

I’m not talking just personally but also professionally, specifically in relation to what little Claude Lane has represented in the past, present, and what the future does indeed hold. As I write this I can hear the yells and whoops of the sports fans just next door at the Irish Bank as they watch a game… a vivid and in some ways delectable reminder of what eating & drinking establishments, sports, & music can do to bring people together. And of course, I cannot bear to not mention art in this context, ‘Art’ which undoubtedly can be so indefinable by language in our current time period, yet holds such importance to exploring and re-defining our culture, our ideas, politics, religion…

This week one of my favorite photographers, Larry Sultan, a professor from CCAC (my alma mater) and easily one of the most influential creator/artist/photographers of our day passed away of cancer at the age of 63. When I read the NY Times on Monday I choked a bit with the news, and I began to think about how his sense of curiosity, intelligence, and thoughtfulness had affected so many students, friends, colleagues, so much of the art community and the world. I guess my point of sharing this is the relation to the ever-driving need I feel to continue upon this journey I have started in the arts, the restaurants, the community. For me, it is especially important to realize the very very short amount of time we each have to be involved with eachother and the ideas we hold dear.

The gallery represents not just a place to passively look at art, but to be involved- a space that is by it’s own very nature a place that beckons to be explored, lived, eaten in, talked in, educated in, and met in. The gallery housing is part of an old building, approximately a century old, with a rich history of people, experiences, and detail. Legend has it that a speakeasy used to operate in the lower basement levels so many decades ago, the gatherings intimate and secretive yet built to bring people together. Across the street where Gitane is now residing, there once was a flower shop that held a small part in Alfred Hitchcock’s film ‘Vertigo’. Watch the film & you’ll play the voyeur of old Claude Lane, Sutter Street, and the interior of the shop that now sees & smells the workings of a vintage inspired restaurant. Here is the place where cocktails, cuisine & the artistic jewel box that is Gitane entrances guests through the late hours.

What an interesting time to be able to begin anew ….Claude Lane continues, and grows… memory is not lost and can help shape the future…  change is exciting, no?