Next, Antonio, sitting and pounding on the cajon, begins to chant, "Night becomes day, day becomes night, night becomes day, day becomes night," while invoking the spirits, "Old souls, living in a New World Order." The rhythm makes me want to pick something up and make some noise, but this instant band is already complete. "You carry the ancestors in your palms, You are the butterfly nectar," he raps, "Marching barefoot.I enjoy you for being you." Playing the South American Charanga - and standing in the center - is Agua, wearing a "No War" t-shirt and singing about la luna. Rounding out the impromptu, free-style band is a rock-climber couple who play bluegrass together and a local jazz drummer. The conga drums outside are Rick's and he is joined by three friends from the band, Milpa Musica, field music, who have driven in from San Bernardino, after catching the final weekend of the Frida Kahlo exhibit at LACMA. It could be the calming effect of the desert or it could be that the desert attracts introspective types, who each need their own space, to create their own worlds.
Monet's monthly commute from Joshua Tree to school means several days away from her 6 year old at a time, and away from her boyfriend, Rick Rodriguez, whose work is also on display. Her dark, introspective pieces, where bemused faces emerge from thick layers of stormy texture, explore the depths of the subconscious. Blair, an abstract expressionist whose work, with titles such as "The Dark Night of the Gentle Soul," "First Among Equals" and "Emotional Landscape," reflects her passion for philosophy and the Jungian psychology she's studying at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara. The owner, Laurel Sidle, who signs her own work, Llaree, greets each arrival comfortably, like an old friend, and doesn't take a commission, which is lucky for the artist, Monet D. There could be no less-pretentious gallery anywhere on earth. Still, there is something oddly disconcerting about the experience of using the Glass Outhouse for the first time. There is some discussion each time someone needs to use the facility, confirming that, while one can see the outside, from inside the outhouse, nobody on the outside can see in. Natural light, mingling with the twinkling of long strings of colorful Christmas lights, dances on the round bottoms of the green and clear, glass bottles, planted neck-down, in a giant circle, at the end of a dusty walkway, decorated with coyote cut-outs and other strange scenes, such as a tiny corral with a giant, stuffed toy burro inside.īetween the outdoor area, where the musicians are setting up their percussion instruments, beside the water tower and festively lit trees, and the main gallery building, lies the centerpiece, the namesake of the gallery, the actual Glass Outhouse.
On this Supermoon-lit night, the sun settles down in the west in perfect synchronization with the moon rising from the east, like a radiant orange.
#ART BLOCKS ARCHETYPE FULL#
You have found the most unlikely of places, the Glass Outhouse Gallery and the opening night of "Archetype and Anarchy" is in full swing.
#ART BLOCKS ARCHETYPE ZIP#
Then you'll zip by the hand-made sign, which catches your eye, like a broken fragment of a mirror in the setting desert sun, so you'll turn in on the following dirt road and go back a block. Much farther, it seems, and you'll be crossing over the Colorado River into Arizona. After 29 Palms, a half hour past Joshua Tree, which is as far as anyone would likely go, you'll pass a sign, "Next Services 100 Miles" and you will be almost there.
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