Sunset
touched the faces of rocks cut from a Chinese river gorge, lighting the faces
of friends and strangers. To the west, in the shadow of live oaks, a ten foot metal
salmon twisted into the current of a light northwest wind. I stepped through
the rock wall and into a large circular room, warmly illuminated by unseen
lights. Silver vats lined the walls, and in the center of the circle stood a
horse of mythical proportion, a wildly animated metal beast, frozen in the
moment. Angry voices rose above the buzz of conversations; two gentlemen in
conflict parted, drew rapiers, and engaged. Their clash carried them up stairs
and across a catwalk. It ended when one
swordsman was dispatched into a vat.
Our
large group was then ushered into a tunnel that plunged into the mountain,
illuminated by sconces and lined by oaken barrels. After a moderate walk we
emerged into another room… and, curiously, we discovered we were on the same
side of the mountain as where we started. This wood paneled gallery was adorned
by stone sculpture and paintings in many styles. Outside the gallery was a plaza
where a trio played Indian music, illuminated by torches. We ate fish tacos and
pumpkin soup, marveled at an eight foot long drag racer of surreal design and
detail, made entirely of wood.
One
week earlier: it was the balcony lobby of a century-old opera house. I was
sitting on an overstuffed sofa in front of a cheap folding table. Tasty rock
music pulsed through the balcony door. Steve Irwin was standing in front of me,
holding lovingly in his hands a small stingray like the one which had killed him
not more than two moons ago. Behind him was lovely woman with jet hair and
olive skin, arm in arm her sailor friend. But the seaman did not look well—his
eyes were shadowed, his face was green, and there were more than traces of
blood at the corners of his mouth. In his hand was a can of spinach, with
“Warning: E Coli” stamped in large red letters.
Life
imitates art imitates life in Petaluma, October 2006. On Saturday the 29th, the Petaluma
Arts Council hosted a fundraising gathering at the splendid Keller Estate
Winery, just west of Tolay Regional Park. Fine art
mixed with the tools of the winemakers art, tucked into the side of a mountain.
Local art lovers were out to support the Arts Council campaign for a new Art Center
in the restored Petaluma rail depot. If you’d like to help,
visit petalumaartscouncil.org.
A
week earlier was the 4th annual Phoenix Theater Spooky Chicken
Halloween Ball. In addition to the Crock Hunter and Toxic Popeye, party
participants could feast their eyes on the unique and inventive costumage and characterizations of: Saucy Snow White and
her Seven Diva Dwarves; Large Lobster Woman; an even larger Bacon Strip and her
Fried Egg Friend; a convincing Clint Eastwood, never out of character; the
Fallen Angel, an elegantly shabby Cinderella in shades of Phoenix grunge gray;
the gory Honeymoon Bride and her knife totin’ Jealous
Jailbird Ex; a Frankenstein and Bride who had to have spent the better part of Satuday getting made up. This is rapidly becoming the
Halloween party not to miss. If you have your 2007 calendar, it’s not too early
to reserve the date for next year’s party —just mark October as Spooky Chicken
Party month. Have a ball while helping the youth of our community.
Meanwhile,
can you help us restore and upgrade the Phoenix’s acoustical splendor? Our
lovely wall curtains, which helped dampen unwanted echoes, expired several
years ago. We are replacing them, as well as “flying” the main speakers off the
stage for better sound distribution. These improvements will give us sound that
is both clearer and easier on the ears. They will also help us to book bigger
name acts, the proceeds from which will help us maintain and expand our
programs for North Bay youth. We need $20,000; our Board VP has pledged to
match the first $5,000 dollar for dollar. Write me at bruce@petalumaphoenix.org
for details.