The driftwood hanging item

Laziness is a common theme with most of the successful people I know. I’ve talked with some of the best-known designers, who have endless energy and are always tackling something. They all think they are lazy. Of course, that can’t be true, these are people who are propelling the profession forward with new ideas, volunteerism, and new technologies. I, on the other hand, am actually lazy. Knowing this, I keep myself busy. I’m always on alert for any lazy thinking. If I feel like waiting to do something, I don’t. I take on that task right then. If I feel like sitting on the sofa and watching television on a Sunday afternoon, I get up and work in the garden.

When I run out of things to do, I can turn to our collection of Sunset Books. There are endless ideas to keep me busy. One of my favorite objects is a driftwood hanging my grandmother made. She collected the driftwood on a trip up the Pacific coast and used an idea in one of the Sunset Books to create the hanging. This is a good example of fighting the lazy temptation of sitting on a beach.

Sunset Books, Garden Art and Decoration

Sunset Books, Garden & Patio Building

Sean Adams, Noreen Morioka, 82nd Annual Academy Awards

I think humility is a virtue. I do my best to practice it.  I feel uncomfortable with praise, and am usually far more impressed with the people I meet than I am with myself. This post, however, may seem to lack that humility. I’ve been trying to figure out how I could recap last night without seeming like a total douche. But that’s probably unavoidable, so I’ll pass on some highlights.

Last night we went to The Academy Awards. The Academy was extremely generous and made sure we had great seats and felt wonderfully welcome. My biggest concern before going was shallow at best. Would I fit into my tuxedo? I took it to Armani and asked them if I should let the pants out. They said no. I didn’t want to wear Spanx. Fortunately, it fit and I didn’t need the Spanx.

Driving along an empty Hollywood Blvd. was surreal, at best, weaving through barricades, with crowds of people with cameras watching from both sides. Like everywhere in Los Angeles, there was a valet. Once we passed through the metal detectors without incident, none of us were packing, we were in the middle of the official “Red Carpet” area. I expected the people in bleachers and press, but it was that times ten. The press was three people deep with television cameras and interviewers. The bleachers were filled with people shouting and taking photos. This was far beyond a premier at Sundance. Who knew?

The nominees and presenters were in the first few rows and like an AIGA Gala, were all out of their seats talking to each other at every commercial break. The announcer began the countdown at 30 seconds and then said “5 seconds to the world.” I liked that. It was a good way to start.

I did my best to stay on top of things on Twitter, but it’s hard to be witty when you are trying to type and not have everyone around us say, “Well! How rude.” This show is a machine. The efficiency was incredible. Within the three minutes of commercial breaks, a crew of stagehands in tuxedos changed the sets completely. Presenters in dresses were helped down the stairs that looked perilous for presenters with high heels and lots of fabric. Most impressively, at the end of a commercial break when the announcer said, “30 seconds,” people got back in their seats. Try that at an AIGA Gala. Obviously, designers need to be commanded to sit down in 30 seconds over a loudspeaker too.

Now the other trivial issue in the back of my head was the valet. How were they going to return 2,000 people’s cars? Would we be there all night? And, I somehow lost my claim ticket. I’ve never done that in my entire life. Now in the most complicated valet situation possible, I lost it. Like the rest of the evening, though, it worked out beautifully. I told the valet, “It’s a Range Rover with an American flag sticker,” and in five minutes, they found it. Now real life kicked back in. Monday is an Art Center day, so I needed to prepare for class. I, also, didn’t want to eat at 10:30 at night, so we all passed on going out for dinner. At home, I had a bowl of tuna fish and 3 pretzels. Glamorous.

An empty Hollywood Blvd.

Crowds lining the street

Crowds unhappy it was just us

Noreen Morioka, Sean Adams, InJu Sturgeon

Sean and the logo

AMPAS ticket

Noreen and Michael at the bar

Michael demonstrating how he would look with Botox

The stage

Enchanted Tiki Room interior

Alexander Calder's Circus

Today, I will begin by offending everyone who is offended easily. Last week, we took our good friend Marian to Disneyland. It was her first visit, and she decided she loved the Enchanted Tiki Room. The Tiki Room in Disneyland is still the original show from 1963. Contrary to some who believe everything should be re-imagined and made “hip,” the Tiki Room is still a favorite, even without new rap songs thrown in to be “now.” I love the disparate design of the Tiki Room. It’s a thousand tiny elements all thrown together. Every surface is detailed and alive. The design is like a wonderful scattering of different jewels.

Now for the offensive part: if you are a “serious” art critic who believes that the Tiki Room is man’s version of hell on earth, read no further. I am now going to relate Alexander Calder’s Circus to the Tiki Room. You may now be screaming, “For the love of God, why? Why?” Calder’s Circus was created from 1926-1931. The Tiki Room, for me, is an extension of Calder’s creation.

The Calder Circus is an incredible mix of multiple tiny objects that animate. There is no single large object. And, like the Tiki Room, the inanimate objects are anthropomorphized to entertain us. Whether it is a piece of fabric and wire, or tropical birds and tiki totems, both creations ask us to make the leap and believe they are alive. They both share a trait I value, the ability to create work that is playful and without pretension.

Enchanted Tiki Room Tiki

Enchanted Tiki Room interior

Enchanted Tiki Room interior

Enchanted Tiki Room exterior, 1966

Enchanted Tiki Room poster, 1966

Alexander Calder's Circus, 1931

Sometimes I just want to share a thing of beauty. These are images of a mural Mary Blair designed in Tomorrowland. Theoretically, they are still there underneath a rather uninteresting mural for Star Tours. No major insights here, just something wonderful.

Our greeter pig, detail

When I have really bad days, I consider Plan B. If all else fails, I can move into a trailer in the desert and collect rocks. Alternatively, I could follow the path of the “Pig Dude.”

If you drive from Los Angeles to San Francisco along Interstate 5, you will pass Harris Ranch. This is a good place to stop for gas, buy sodas, or have lunch. Across the highway from Harris Ranch is a McDonald’s. Behind the McDonald’s at the edge of the desert is the “Pig Dude.” That’s what we call him, I don’t know his actual name. He lives in a trailer sitting behind rows and rows of garden ceramic figurines. They are all neatly lined up according to theme. There is a religious section, a woodland creature section, the ethnically offensive section, and the pigs. You can buy a farmer pig, or a farmer’s wife pig, even a police officer pig. The police one is probably a bad idea, and I put that in the “offensive” category.

I bought the farmer’s wife. She has a cute dress and happy little hooves. Now she serves as our greeter by the front door. She scares some people and delights others. My grandfather always told me that “the fat hog gets slaughtered first” as a warning against being greedy. Our greeter pig reminds me of this every day.

The pig, front

The pig, back