i strolled around covered by the cool pour of concrete, consumed by shadow; it felt stark, sharp-metallic.

once familiar space presented with a new face of maquillage, softly sliced by the building’s curvature, the contrast of blinding los angeles sun creating the environment of many a director’s dream. the angles were my hall monitors, pointing me to greatness; i mere mortal, human, am covered in her magnanimous chill.

aretha’s phrase gorgeous gowns comes to mind; not to undercut the effort but to emphasize both under and overwhelm. it’s a space trying to be grandiose in modesty – an ironic pursuit. do i still enjoy irony in design? not sure.

the art is otherwordly – both literal and figurative – and yet i remain unmoved. centuries of creation, conquests, treasures and artifacts of history. i should be on my knees, but all i want is to be spirit led.

how do artifacts hold their soul when passed from earth to master? spirit to sunken place on display for coveting, barred entry to ancestry (past and/or present). i wandered aimless, soft-shoed, curious, eyes clear. where am i? does it matter?

i’m in a space of constructed importance, another reminder of the quest to control and contain (history, views, land). as many halls as i’ve wandered domestically and abroad, i’ve never felt such underwhelm in the grandiose. my stature demands i cower; my energy carrying me with broad shoulders and stilts to enlargen my view.

it’s a feeling more than a viewing. a request to make meaning in the stark and ornate simultaneously.

visit, tend, ask if the vast space below will be democratic should we need it for human expansion – food, shelter, activism.