Edward Biberman Mural

By Delores Hanney

Since the recent slipping into private hands of the 1939 WPA-built post office in Venice, there has been much anguish and gnashing of teeth mainly due to the loss of an almost constant availability of the pleasure afforded by an offhand gaze at its iconic mural, The Story of Venice, tucked up inside the building. The 6’6” by 15’10” oil-emulsion tribute to the town’s past is the work of one Edward Biberman done in 1941.

The Work Projects Administration was a New Deal agency created during the Great Depression to provide useful employment to the otherwise jobless: constructing roads and bridges, parks and public buildings. Many of those buildings were then festooned with murals capturing a topic of local significance, painted by talented artists such as Biberman who were also working under New Deal programs, The Section of Fine Arts in Biberman’s case.

Not being painted directly onto its host wall, The Story of Venice is separated by process – if not purpose – from those pictographs of the cave painting sort harking back to times of antiquity. By contrast, the Venice post office version of visual life recordation is an oil on canvas that Biberman created in his studio on Vine Street in Hollywood. Actually, the oil was mixed with a wax preparation following a recipe he was given by Hilarie Hiler, a WPA mural-maker working out of San Francisco. It imbued the surface with a lovely eggshell quality and a gentle sheen as opposed to a shine. In completion, the painting was affixed to the wall through a technique called “marouflage,” a kinky kind of name for a procedure not that far removed from a do-it-yourselfer hanging wallpaper in the dining room.

He was way jazzed to receive the commission for this, his second mural. “It’s a painter’s dream to run into that kind of rich material, which also happens to be true,” he told an interviewer for the Archives of American Art at the Smithsonian twenty-three years later. “Everything about the place is something which one would imagine to have been created from a figment of some very rosy imagination.”

Biberman’s approach, to this pictorial – and picturesque – historytelling project of his, is delicious, as all who ever saw it can readily testify. Following the ersatz triptych model employed on his first mural painted for the Federal Post Office Building in downtown Los Angeles, Venice founder Abbot Kinney is the central image in The Story of Venice, behind him the visionary rendition of his cultural Shangri-La. To the left Biberman depicted its honky-tonk manifestation; to the right in its industrialized form. In this manner, he captured not only Kinney’s fancy but also how it evolved upon making contact with real life. “It’s a wry commentary on what can happen to a man’s dream,” the artist observed. Venetians promptly claimed it as their own.

Stylistically influenced by the work of important Mexican muralists such as Diego Rivera, David Alfaro Siqueiros and Jose Clements Orozco, all of whom he knew from his days back in New York, it’s not just a sentimental reminder of things past. The piece exudes a certain romantic muscularity that embraces both the idealistic and the pragmatic in a sideways kind of optimism for the future. It offers, however, no hint of the somber social advocacy that later would become the primary focus of his fervor.

For more than seven decades, Edward Biberman’s awesome mural was there to welcome Venice post office patrons who bustled about, task oriented, towards a swift completion of business. The government retains ownership of the treasure but the covenant signed by the building’s new owner, movie producer Joel Silver – of Die Hard, The Matrix and, Lethal Weapon fame – would have him restore it for public viewing at his new digs, by appointment on a bi-monthly basis. That eventuality would have the effect of lifting said mural-viewing from an incidental part of an ordinary day’s errands to the status of a special event. But as Greta Cobar reported in the Free Venice Beachhead, a law suit was filed in Washington D.C. for reconsideration hopefully resulting in re-emplacement in the Abbot Kinney library: the best possible outcome for Venice homies.

In his moody and mystical and impassioned poem, “Sacred Places,” Jim Smith evokes that old post office to enshrine it as a temple, the mural image of Abbot Kinney inside as its resident deity. With it, a piercing howl of pain breaks from Smith’s soul.

Primeval articulation of a community’s grief for things as they stand now.

Sparkly Party for SPARC’s 35th Anniversary

By CJ Gronner

It has been all about the art lately in Venice, and a recent Saturday night was a big one for it. C.A.V.E. (Center for Audio and Visual Expression)  Gallery on Abbot Kinney had the opening of renowned street artist Shark Toof’s Ping Pong Show AND it was the big celebration for SPARC‘s (Social and Public Art Resource Center) 35th Anniversary. A full night of greatness.

My dear friend, Shana Nys Dambrot, wrote the introduction for Shark Toof‘s new and completely gorgeous coffee table book, and we discussed Shark Toof’s fine art works on canvas with the man himself.

Shark (I’m gonna call him that, as I have a hard time with the f) opined on the state of sexual taboos in the world that gave his show its name.

“Ping Pong” does not refer to the hooker trick of yore, but rather the sex industry mores of Asia vs. here in the U.S.

Bright fluorescent stripes on the walls caromed about and around the paintings, giving the whole gallery an installation feeling, picking up the colors exploding off the art. The gallery was packed with collectors and hipsters, locals and even a couple tiger face-painted babies that could have climbed out of one of the paintings.

Shark is best known as a street artist, and his work has shown up on exterior walls all over the world, often featuring sharks.

With this new, crucial book, and gallery shows like this, Shark has taken his outdoor pieces inside, and successfully bridged that gap previously crossed by folks like Shephard Fairey and Banksy. “Post Art Bills” reads the box that houses his book. Yes.

The show is bright and profound and you can check it out on Abbot Kinney now through November 11th.

I raced from C.A.V.E. over to the SPARC affair at its headquarters in the old jail on Venice Boulevard. The entire building was lit up, with murals hanging from every inch of it.

The back parking lot had been transformed into a Big Fish style outdoor party, with lights strung up everywhere and music blasting from the stage, courtesy of Venice’s own Tom Schnabel spinning his KCRW brand of world beats, and later jazz and blues legend Barbara Morrison and her band getting everybody up and dancing.

SPARC was founded by Judy Baca, Christina Schlesinger and Donna Deitch in 1976 with their first project, The Great Wall of Los Angeles. It is the longest mural in the world, taking the viewer through important moments in our history all along the L.A. River bank. They offered tours of the massive mural (all done by volunteers and at-risk youth), led by Baca. I couldn’t attend the mural tour, but encourage everyone to get down there and see this true wonder of the world as soon as you get the chance. It is truly massive, and makes abundantly clear the importance of art as a tool for social expression and teaching history.

Awards were given, speeches were made, and there was an air of jubilation over the entire affair. It was a delight to see so many neighbors all out and having a good time under the stars, dancing, drinking (theme drinks like “The Mural”), and eating delicious fare from the booths set up by Hal’s, Casa Linda, and Ben’s BBQ.

You could participate in live mural painting on one of the back walls, and it gave you a sense of the camaraderie and effort that goes into creating the more massive pieces that adorn our fair city.

Every surface was adorned with a mural illuminating important cultural characters and events. Even in the bathroom. In a time when street artists (folks like Shark Toof) get busted and jailed for beautifying spaces, and murals are under attack by small-minded building owners and corporate advertising, this was an especially satisfying evening in homage to the importance of art’s role in social justice.

Once all the donation pitches and speechifying was complete, it was time to simply party. Barbara Morrison and her excellent backing band tore it up, and people kept dancing even as the event was being cleaned up around them. A great cause, a great night of wonderful art, and another exclamation point on the SPECIAL! place that we call home.

As SPARC’s saying goes, “BE the Spark – to bring the past into the present to inspire the future.”

Shark Toof

The Ping Pong Show

C.A.V.E. Gallery

1108 Abbot Kinney Boulevard

Through November 11th

SPARC

685 Venice Boulevard

Hopefully Always

Earl Newman Goes From Venice to the Smithsonian

By Greta Cobar

“I want to thank Venice for being open to free-spirited people,” Earl Newman says 53 years after he came here from the East Coast with a wife and two kids in a ’55 Chevy station wagon “in quest of a future.”

And that he found. After being homeless for a few weeks, Earl and his family moved into the boarded-up store-front that now is the Small World Bookstore on Ocean Front Walk, next door to the Sidewalk Cafe. And there, according to Earl, “opportunity came.”

Someone had left, at the back of the Gas House, all the equipment he needed to silk-screen posters. “And I knew how to use it. I started using it to pay rent and didn’t think that it would lead anywhere or that I’d do it years later,” Earl recently told the Beachhead.

Well, it lead to him being a successful self-employed artist since. This year he is celebrating his 50th year designing posters for the Monterey Jazz Festival, which takes place September 21 to 23. He finds 50 to be a “good, round number” to change direction and “maybe stop designing posters for the festival, maybe go fishing or traveling in a ‘Winnebago’.”

Among his large following is the Smithsonian Museum in Washington DC, which purchased the complete collection of Earl’s signed and numbered Monterey Jazz Festival posters for their permanent collection.

“I found something I really enjoy doing,” he says of creating and silk-screening his artwork. The first poster he printed in Venice was of the Gas House, a coffee shop just steps south of Small World Bookstore, where Vivianne Robinson’s Name on Rice shop is now located.

“My parents came to visit shortly after we moved into the place, and when my mom walked in, she started crying and said: ‘Earl, we didn’t bring you up to live like this.’ ” According to Earl, it was raining and there were pots and pans on the floor to catch the drips from the ceiling. The floor was covered in sand that he had hauled from the beach to cover up the broken tile.

Earl and his family lived a very primitive lifestyle and had little money. At times Earl didn’t think that they would make it, and might have to return to New England with his wife Jean and two daughters Andrea and April and return to being a school teacher. Looking back, Earl is thankful to Jean, who was also an art teacher, for inspiring him to come out West and for being supportive of their common endeavors. With perseverance Earl and Jean fixed the place up, painted it, made an art gallery in the front and set up residence in the back. “My son Dale was born in the back of the gallery. I delivered him,” Earl told the Beachhead.

Meanwhile, in the front, there was a new art show every month, which allowed Earl to “barely make it.” When he got a night job for the Yellow Pages in West LA, Earl thought to himself: “I’m not gonna do this,” and really got into poster making.

The commemorative 50th Monterey Jazz Festival poster depicts and is a tribute to Shelly Manne, whom Earl wishes to thank for “helping me get to this point.” It was back in 1962, in Escondido, that Earl was selling posters for the first time at a fair, and he met Shelly. “He saw my posters, bought a bunch, and invited me to his jazz club, Shelly’s Manhole, in Hollywood.” Earl went on to design two posters for Shelly, and while hanging out at the club he met a woman who was doing human relations for the Monterey Jazz Festival. She asked him to design a poster for the festival, Earl drew Joe Gordon, a trumpeter, and the rest is history.

“My first time attending the 3-day event, in 1963, I made $1000. I knew right then and there what the formula is: fine art, not commercial, at a good festival.”

Back in Venice, a few years later, Earl set up studio a few houses south of Venice and Abbot Kinney Blvd. He bought a parcel of land with two lots on it, built a 2-story building for himself on one of the parcels, and offered the house residing on the other one rent-free to Rick Davidson, Ana and John Haag, all three of whom founded the Free Venice Beachhead and the Peace and Freedom Party in that very residence. Both the Beachhead and the Peace and Freedom Party operated in that location for quite a few years. According to Earl, “nobody remembers how many.”

By the time the ‘70s came around, business in Venice was slowing down for Earl, and big galleries were coming into town. “I didn’t fit into that package,” he said. So in ’72 he moved up north with his wife and three children to experience farm life in Summit, Oregon. “It’s one of the best things that happened to me – outside of Venice,” Earl said.

He still lives on that farm today with two cats, about twenty chickens, a garden with strawberries, peas, lettuce, rhubarb, carrots and much more. The farm is so big that most of it is a forest with a river running through it. And yes, there are bridges under big trees, with chairs and tables, ideal spots to sit and sip some wine.

Fresh off the boat in Oregon in 1974, Earl visited the Oregon Country Fair for the first time. There he found Peace and Freedom Party members selling bumper stickers and anti-war stuff. He thought to himself: “My posters might fit right in with this.” Within minutes Earl was selling posters side-by-side with the Peace and Freedom folks. After a  few years of co-existence, the Peace and Freedom Party members took off on another adventure, and Earl continues to sell his posters there to this day, without missing a single year.

“I could get bored any time now, but for some reason I don’t,” Earl said about designing and printing posters at 82. “That’s the name of the game: find a passion,” he says. He definitely found his passion. “Art is and has been a great companion for me,” Earl told the Beachhead.

The Lit Show is a Hit – With Suzy Williams

By CJ Gronner

Oh, Suzy Williams. How are you so so cool? Well, for starters. she and her husband, Gerry Fialka, put on The Lit Show every year at Beyond Baroque, where you hear the words of famous authors put to jazzy compositions by Suzy and Brad Kay. Where you wind up being not only thoroughly entertained, but smarter.

In the 7th or 8th Annual (no one was really sure which) Lit Show, Suzy and Brad were joined by Oliver Steinberg on stand up bass, Carol Chaikin on everything (well, flute, clarinet and two different saxes), Barry Zweig on guitar, and Don Allen on drums. And the entire crowd of loyal Venice fans on laughter, clapping and the opening chorus of “The Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit Show!!!!” Everyone was down from the opening notes, that Suzy delivered in full Marilyn Monroe (who was also featured on the evening’s program cover, reading Ulysses) regalia, right down to the beauty mark. That’s the thing about Suzy, she really DELIVERS every single word, making her especially great at adapting such glorious words from authors that you may not have even known ever wrote song lyrics.

Like Kurt Vonnegut, Rudyard Kipling, and Ben Hecht (very upbeat number from the dude who wrote Scarface, etal!). Even Ray Bradbury, who lived exactly right across the street here in Venice for a spell, and whose song, “Bedtime Exercise” found Suzy portraying a sexy robot. A “Venusian Venetian.”  To introduce Nabokov’s ditty from Lolita, Suzy said, “Let’s blow it all to Hell!” Which happened, particularly due to Carol Chaikin’s sax blowing that was so feeling it that it reminded me of Lisa Simpson going off.

“The Great Secret”, inspired by words from Hafiz, Suzy’s “Spiritual Master”, turned out to be that There really is no such thing as sin … so we’re off the hook, boys and girls! Suzy is the best. She reminds me a little of Bette Midler in her delivery, and her not giving a damn what anyone thinks, straight up doing her own thing, and in the vaudeville style way she interacts with the crowd. Suzy is a true mold breaker, though, and fully deserving of her title, The Songbird of Venice.

After a brief intermission, Suzy returned to the stage as a sultry brunette, salting the set with funny little asides like, “Edna liked to be called ‘Vincent’” about Edna St. Vincent Millay. For Vonnegut, Suzy donned a turban and hoop earrings and shook a maraca for the summery delight of “Bokomon’s Calypso” from Cat’s Cradle. All the Venice faces were smiling along, deeply in love with the divine Ms. W.  Nice, Nice, Very Nice!

The “G Rated Bessie Smith of Venice”, introduced Brad Kay of Suzy when she sang “Little Shirley Beans”. This one was inspired by Salinger’s Catcher In The Rye – which she suggested everyone re-read when they’re older. I’m going to.

The very bohemianly awesome evening ended with the crowd singing along “LOOOOOOOOOVE!” with Suzy to “A Song of Love” by Lewis Carroll (from Sylvie and Bruno). I loved every bit of it, and urge anyone who’s never seen Suzy to get there and get charmed by our dear local treasure songbird. Especially because she shouts great things like, “Don’t forget! Marilyn Monroe is always on the merry go round reading Ulysses!” to end her show.

The Liiiiiiiiiiiiit Show was about the most sweet/street, smart/tart time I’ve had in a while, and truly so original. Just like Suzy.

Venice – Where Art Meets Sublime

By CJ Gronner

The Hammer Museum came down to put on the “Venice Beach Biennial” (which the materials all keep calling a “tongue in cheek” play on the Venice Biennale in Italy – Thanks, we get it.), where a bunch of “Museum” artists joined the Venice artists that are down on the Boardwalk every day, to showcase both styles of art. But art is ALL art, no?

There was a real old style Carnival in Windward Circle put on, interestingly, I thought, by the LAPD. Interesting, considering there are always talks about budget cuts and not enough officers to get the jobs done, but they can throw up a bunch of rides and man-power to watch all the additional people said carny rides bring out? Is it perhaps a little bit to help the image, or what? Interesting, that’s all I’m saying.

I’m not that into rides that are thrown up in a few days, so that whole deal was pretty much a bike through all weekend, but I’m glad the little kids had fun.  The great thing for me was seeing the focus on ART again at the beach. On the beach artists, to be specific, as though the Hammer project brought their artists down, they were not nearly as visible as the people crafting and selling their work every day of the week down there. Aside from the big show pieces nearest Windward Circle, it was nearly impossible to differentiate who came from where … it was just ALL art. And beautiful. If you couldn’t get down there, let me take you on a little stroll of the day with me. Imagine the sun warming your back as you walked, the sea salt breeze making it all perfectly comfortable, music everywhere, and the childhood smells of a day at the beach … except with the sage, incense, and weed smoke moments of now.

The day was so gorgeous out, it was a piece of art unto itself. One thing about the Hammer works was that they weren’t labeled or identified in any way other than a dot on a map they gave out, so people weren’t really sure what they were looking at. So I guess it was just look and enjoy.

Big Easter Island Moai sculptures by Alex Israel had everyone taking attention away from the skaters in the Skatepark for a minute. So cool.

Big pink balloons marked booths where artists were being featured by the VB Biennial, but most of them appeared to be the people that can usually be found down there, like colorful pieces by SKY (Stacey Kai Young).

I spoke to Arthure “Art” Moore who was the featured artist on the materials for the VB Biennial, with his Funky Pussy painting as the logo for the whole deal. He was stoked on it all, and said that the Boardwalk artists were selling more than ever, and really being recognized for their work. VENICE was being recognized as a destination for art again, and that was important to everyone involved. I saw plenty of people holding their own version of Funky Pussy, so Moore, with his homemade eye patch, was taking full advantage of his new celebrity.

In fact, we couldn’t chat too long as we were constantly interrupted by people who wanted their photo with him. Moore was happy to oblige and offered up his signature middle finger (with a smile) to all passersby and tourist photographers. Very Venice, very awesome.

Thank goodness Rara Superstar was back from showing his art all over Ibiza in time to partake in the Biennial, as his colorful pieces are a crucial part of the Boardwalk landscape. He too was kept busy all day taking photos with people and selling them a new memory for their home collections, while reminding them that “Love always wins”.

The day could not have been more pristine, so it was a complete pleasure to amble along and spend more time than you normally would really looking at everything. The bright sunny mood was infectious, and people were open and friendly and into it. One of those days like what could be bad.

All the art looked great against such a beautiful beachy background, that it made you want to get a piece from everyone you passed by. I made a lot of notes on who to return to when I need a perfectly Venice gift for someone. I think a lot of that was going on, really. What better souvenir to bring someone back than a piece of art from someone most likely painting it right there off the sand?

There were street performers and Hammer performers (none of whom did I see all day), and I was stoked to get my own little rap from Dr. Geek … Hey, Blondie, I like the way you wear your laundry … Rad.

Ibrahim was performing in full voice and drums down by the Venice Bistro, and it gave the day a wonderfully authentic soundtrack of badassness.

Art showed up in all mediums, from paintings to jewelry to crazy little heads of figures from Bob Marley to Wilma Flintstone, if that was your thing.

Humor was everywhere – also very Venice – as even the Funky Pussy official materials were pretty funny. Some guys were hawking “Official Bum signs – For just 1 dollar you can own your own bum sign!” yelled some very official looking gentlemen who had made funny cardboard signs for your purchasing pleasure. They wouldn’t let me take a photo. Of course.

I was just beaming all day at how fun and cool life can be, especially here in Venice. I think the best thing I overheard all day was from a middle aged couple – clearly tourists -  walking down the Boardwalk. The man said, “I think we’re going the wrong way.” The woman smiled and said, “I think we’re in the right place to be going the wrong way.

Exactly. She got it. I get it. In that moment, we got each other. And that’s what days like these are all about.

Ray Bradbury and the Free Monorail System

Ray Bradbury may have had his head in the sky for The Martian Chronicles and other amaz- ing stories set on other worlds and dimensions, but he knew a good thing here on Earth when he saw it.

In the early Sixties, the Alweg Monorail Company offered to build a 41.8-mile long trans- portation system free of charge. It would have included two lines extending east and west of downtown Los Angeles, and a third running through the Valley to downtown. Standard Oil (now Chevron) became active in lobbying against the plan. Only a few years earlier, Standard, Gen- eral Motors, Firestone Tire and others had bought up and derailed L.A.’s Red Car system, and nu- merous other urban railway companies through- out the country.

The Los Angeles Board of Supervisions quickly rejected the Alweg offer, over Bradbury’s strenuous objections. He recalled being thrown out of the meeting for making “impolite noises.”

The entire system would have cost $123 mil- lion to build ($740 million in today’s dollars), which Alweg would have been reimbursed for out of fare receipts. The company said it would consider more miles of the system if the County wanted it. The Alweg plan can be viewed at http://bit.ly/MvuWlV.

The towers for the tracks, and the tracks themselves, would have been built in a factory and assembled on the spot like a giant erector set. Since it would run down the center of existing streets the system could have been built and op- erating within months, not years. At the time of its proposal, Alweg had already built the Disney- land and Seattle monorails, both of which are still in service.

In contract, the “Subway to the Sea” began with a projected cost of $4 billion. The estimate has already increased to $9 billion and that is only as far as Westwood. Getting to the Sea will cost billions more. Bradbury objected to this waste of time and money, as well, stating that with the pleasant climate in Southern Califormia, monorails made more sense that subways.

Instead of $9 billion for a 10-mile long sub- way, we could have had, or still could have, 549 miles of monorails. That would give us a transit system approaching the coverage of the old Red Car lines, which the city and county ripped up. By the way, the subway won’t be completed until 2036. Bradbury must have been livid.

See more about the Solid Gold Subway at: http://bit.ly/ObL8Ko

–Jim Smith 

Introducing: The Venice Symphony Orchestra

Venice Symphony Orchestra actively seeking local volunteer musicians to join community-based orchestra. Looking for orchestral/symphonic instruments (violin, cello, clarinet, oboe, trumpet, etc.).

The purpose of this venture is to bring together local musicians within the Venice community to combine symphonic pieces with modern music for several performances each year. The intent is to celebrate all eras of music from classical composers to classic rock, jazz to Top 40 hits, and more to creatively bridge the gap between old and young.

Beginning mid-June there will be weekly rehearsals, leading up to the first performance slated for early August. Again, participation is by volunteer basis, with a goal of bringing the community together through music.

The Venice Symphony Orchestra (VSO) is a community-focused organization dedicated to music education and exploration through sharing.  From Beethoven to Beck the VSO is interested inviting our audiences to explore the rich history of music from centuries past and present. By providing free orchestral concerts to the Venice community and surrounding areas we will showcase a unique and dignified outlook on modern and classic works.

If interested, please contact for rehearsal details: veniceorchestra@gmail.com

Like Father, Like Daughter

By Jack Neworth

For the last years of his life, legendary comedian, satirist, social critic and best-selling author George Carlin lived in Venice. Actually he, his wife Brenda and young daughter, Kelly, lived here back in 1970 and had a great affinity and affection for this unique community. In 2008 when Carlin died I was asked by the Beachhead to write his obituary.

Everyone I spoke to, neighbors, friends and even merchants, commented on how down to earth Carlin was. Never mind the 14 HBO specials, the 5 Grammys, the Mark Twain Prize for Humor, or that his books sold a million copies. George Carlin was just a regular guy, albeit a remarkably talented one. Even at 72, he went far too soon.

I first saw Carlin on TV more decades ago than I care to admit to. I was a boy when my father, who loved comedy, introduced me to it as we’d watch the Ed Sullivan Show every Sunday night.

Among the myriad of performers I remember a young George Carlin who, with his variety of voices and characters, always made me laugh. But my favorite act was a Spanish ventriloquist, Señor Wences.

Part of Wences’ rapid-fire routine included banter with a character, just a head, which was in a box. Wences would open it and ask, “S’alright?” The head quickly answered, “S’alright!” after which Wences promptly slammed the box shut. (I recently watched a clip on You Tube and I still find it hilarious. Go figure.)

As I grew up and went through radical changes, i.e. the 60’s, so did Carlin. He came out of the “straight” closet and evolved right before our eyes. He went from a traditional comedian whose goal was to have a career like Danny Kaye to a long-haired counter culture icon whose cutting edge comedy impacted generations of audiences and untold aspiring comedians.

And Carlin did so right up until his death. His last HBO special, It’s Bad For Ya was one of his best and was less than four months before his passing. In fact, as Carlin got older he was even more daring. It was as if he were saying, “I’m an old fart, what can you do to me?”

Well, now on May 24, at the Santa Monica Playhouse, we have a chance to see Carlin perform again. A séance?  Not exactly. Actually it’s a one woman show written and performed by Kelly Carlin, George’s only child.

A natural storyteller, Kelly weaves the forty-year journey of her life with classic photos and footage of her talented and often tempestuous father. (Who, given occasional drug and alcohol abuse, didn’t always know best.)

A Carlin Home Companion is highly entertaining, very funny and very moving. At the risk of a cliché, it’s bound to make you laugh and cry. (To me, the ultimate compliment for a writer/performer.)

But finding her performing voice is fairly recent for Kelly. After getting her Masters in psychology she had planned to become a therapist. In fact, she interned for three years when she found herself using more and more of her spare time writing stories about “growing up with George.”

A Carlin Home Companion begins with Kelly at age four “making spice cookies with daddy.”  Naturally, “daddy’s cookies had a little more spices than Kelly’s.”  A few years later George, having been up for days on coke, confided in his daughter that the sun had just exploded and that they only had seven minutes to live. Naturally, this was something that Kelly couldn’t exactly share with her classmates next day at school.

The Carlins lived in upscale Pacific Palisades, surrounded by Ronald Reagan’s friends and a high-ranking executive at the Rand Corporation. (Not exactly George’s “base.”)

As Kelly recalls in the show this close proximity lead to the occasionally provocative neighborly chats that may have been peppered with some of her dad’s famous seven words you still can’t say on prime time radio. (Following a radio broadcast of Carlin’s routine there was a single complaint to the F.C.C. This resulted in the “seven words” case going to the U.S. Supreme Court and is still known as “the Carlin words.”)

A year in the making, A Carlin Home Companion, directed by actor, comedian and filmmaker Paul Provenza, is a remarkably honest and revealing look at what is was like to be swept up by the career of George Carlin. But it also chronicles the struggles of their father/daughter relationship and what it took for Kelly to find her own place in the world.

A Carlin Home Companion is a roller coaster ride of laughter, emotion and, I dare say, even insights into all our lives. I can only add that I’m very glad that she survived the sun exploding all those years ago.

Venice Artist Diane Butler

• Memorial Tribute: Venice Artist Diane Butler – Mary Getlein
• Song: There’s a ghost at every corner – Diane Buter
• Poem: To Diane Butler – Suzanne Verdal
• Poem: My Humble Ode to Diane – Tina Catalina Corcoran
• Poem: For Diane – Mary Getlein

————————————————-

By Mary Getlein

The Venice community lost a valuable member when Diane Butler, 59, died on February 11. She died from an aneurysm and two strokes.

Diane was a central figure in the struggles of the homeless and RV dwellers in Venice. She was a community activist, artist, singer and drummer in Ibrahim’s Drum Orchestra.

Diane and Ibrahim were instrumental in the Venice art scene, with their bi-annual Solstice gatherings, called The Circle of Color. It was held at Sponto Gallery, from 2001 to 2009. Diane participated in all 93 weekly Venice Peace Walks down Ocean Front Walk after the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Ibrahim organized a celebration of Diane’s life on February 19th. A big shrine dedicated to Diane was erected by people who knew her. There were lots of candles, teddy bears, flowers and paintings. People left offerings all through the day. It was a wonderful send-off for Diane – many old friends showed up and played amazing music for Diane, and for us.

The music was great and lots of people danced. Diane always encouraged people to dance with her. Throughout the afternoon, people would spontaneously shout Diane’s name. Diane’s mother, Virginia, and Ibrahim’s father, Daniel, sat in special chairs in the drum circle. Daniel Butler talked about how Diane was up in Heaven, hanging out with his wife. Many people talked of Diane’s warmth and generosity. She gave of her time and her heart. She was a wonderful artist, singer, activist, mother, wife, daughter and friend.

Diane is survived by her husband, Ibrahim Butler; her mother, Virginia Ruffolo; her daughter, Lani Ware; son-in-law, Caan Hamlet.

 ————

Song by Diane Butler

 

There’s a ghost on every corner

 

As I walk through this town 

In the softness on the night

There’s a ghost on every corner

calling out my name

Telling me that is where, I belong

 

(Chorus) There’s a ghost in every corner

Calling out my name

There’s a ghost on every corner

Calling out my name

Telling me that this is where I belong

Telling me that this is where I belong

 

My name is written on the sidewalk

My tears have spilled onto the ground 

Friends call out to me

That long since passed away

Filling the nite air with the mysteries

of life

 

(Repeat Chorus)

 

My spirit rests in every tree

I’m a mermaid in the sea

a child on the shore

a dancer in the sand

Flying with the gulls 

drifting overhead.

 

———–

To Diane Butler

Oh Diane!

I’ve seen the unraveling

Of your heart’s desire

For Peace …

Not just for you

But all of Earth’s inhabitants.

The undue stress

Left you undone.

By the L.A.P.D.,

By the sins of Babylon.

For some, this is a culture.

But now your paintbrush

Sings lighter

Across the canvas

Testimonies to

The Venice Dance.

I said Goodbye,

And saw your angel

Hover over

Our smiles and tears.

Sleep sweetly, my Sister.

With much love,

-Suzanne Verdal

———–

My Humble Ode To Diane

“Mary” said it ALL:

     (…alive and NOT well …)

     In Paradise…

Now — It hurts like hell –

A hole, in the heart–

     Of Paradise…

(Oh, Diane — Oh, Diane)

So OUT THERE — for ALL –

To see, Know, Love, BE, 

     In Paradise…

“Give Me Liberty” or “Give Me Freedom”

     “Give Me Life After Death”

       Where The Pain Meets The Sea — In Paradise…

 

With Deep Love, 

–Tina Catalina Corcoran

 

————

 

For Diane

 

Diane

you made me laugh, so much

we both saw the crazy humor

in all the madness

all around us 

you were so magical

you know you are – not were

you –

I can see you dancing

in the clouds

adding a little more pink to the sunset

the Blessed sunset of Venice

I’d go down there and sit

and all my friends came by

all the spirits of Venice

are here –

That’s a secret –

don’t tell anyone

anyway, we all know who’s 

supposed to know

Philomene certainly did –

watch the flickering films of Venice

you will see scraps of

wizards, witches, healers, artists,

clowns, magicians, and musicians

we need all we can get

plus the endless sea of humanity

that descends every weekend

and drives the residents crazy.

Diane –

I love you!

Thank you for sharing yourself with me

you taught me so much

your big wide open smile

that embraced everybody.

Babies – you love babies

baby birds, baby humans, dogs

seagulls, pigeons, especially pigeons –

gypsy music in your soul

the same relentless thing that drives

any artist –

you have to do it –

it’s not a choice –

it’s a gift that’s been given to you

and you gotta play with it –

so –

you embrace holy poverty as well as any monk

but your poverty

was backed by drums and drummers

dancers drawn to the drums

dance, dance, dance – 

how cool is that?

there were no dry eyes in the orchestra –

they played their hearts our at your memorial

we danced – like crazy gypsies!!!

The old and the young, all the homeless of Venice

and the housed of Venice

came too –

your smile embraced everyone –

you are our dancing flower-child

This old Black man was drunk

and this guy was buggin’ him –

and he said:

“Go away, don’t bother me –

I lost my home girl today and

I’m hurting.”

That’s how I feel –

she is going home to a golden pure place

that she’s been dreaming of for years

and put down in her paintings –

enter the world of Diane’s art –

beautiful wishes of mothers, children,

Martin Luther King, Native Americans –

angels, birds, people – all floating by, in Diane’s world.

Anyway –

you are my home girl and

I miss you with an ache –

but I know

you’re home, just like you were home here.

This is your home,

Venice, CA 90291 – 

and you will always be here

dancing all around us, 

that smile that appears and disappears –

that will be you, Diane –

telling us to get up off our butts –

and DANCE!!!

Thank you for your example

of a Beautiful heart, soul and mind

and the Best Friend anyone could have –

She loved you with a direct love –

a direct line to your heart –

She was so encouraging –

never a discouraging word –

that was Diane –

She was – she is – she always will be.

Love, Mary.

–Mary Getlein

 

Theatrical Review: “Awake in a World that Encourages Sleep”

Reviewed by Roger Linnett

From the beginning of Raymond J. Barry’s “Awake in a World that Encourages Sleep” at the Electric Lodge, the audience is subjected to a lurching, frenetic exposition of the tormented lives of three people on the edge, presented by a top-flight trio of actors fused into a powerful ensemble. The play examines the price of power, patriotism and loyalty and how they wear on the human soul and, as Barry writes in the program notes, the “exploitation of economically weak countries by giant corporations, as described in John Perkins’ Confessions of an Economic Hit Man.”

The movements of the actors often border on vaudevillian, and their behavior is at times absurd, but the rat-a-tat dialog, with sometimes two or all three characters speaking at once, often to humorous effect, keeps the audience riveted, hardly able to catch its collective breath as the focus careens from one character to another as they rant, squabble, threaten, manipulate, cajole and struggle in their personal Dantean levels of hell.

The breakneck pace is intermittently interrupted as the action comes to a jarring halt when the characters confront each other in overtly dramatic poses and tortured expressions, or react to unheard nearby explosions of bombs, representing the omnipresent but unseen fourth character of the piece – war as the means of exploitation – that is at the core of their individual agonies.

Paul and Erica (Joseph Culp and Tacey Adams) are Albee-esque as they grapple with the loss of their son to the war which Paul encouraged his son, as the heroic and patriotic thing to join, although we learn he lied his way out of his obligation, yet claims he is a wounded and decorated veteran.

From the outset Paul seems a man on the edge of a breakdown – devious, high-strung and paranoid, a corporate tool wracked with guilt about his dead son. Erica despises him for his cowardice and for sacrificing their son, even though she too is somehow complicit in abetting the Orwellian perpetual war for perpetual peace

Edward (Raymond J. Barry) is a quirky and troubled underling in Paul’s war sustaining enterprise, bent on quitting. His movements are reminiscent of a Monty Python character, replete with silly walk and exaggerated gestures. Like Paul and Erica, he is needy, lonely and mildly sinister, but ultimately harmless.

After Paul rushes off following an intense opening spat with Erica, he invades Erica’s momentary peace and carries on a cat and mouse flirtation, wheedling and obnoxious, but also terribly vulnerable as he wrestles with his decision to leave the war-making enterprise known as the “Group”, of which it turns out, Paul is a high-powered executive, and his boss.

The play resolves with Edward reawakening in a reluctant Erica the dormant capability to love, although in the end, even as she confesses her love for him, she cannot detach herself from the broken, self-loathing Paul.

Barry’s comic yet disturbing play was first nurtured as a workshop piece at the Electric Lodge during January and February of last year, growing with each performance. It is rare to find a cast commit to a play for such a long time. It is also what makes it so seamless and professionally realized.

The play had its world premiere at the Theater for the New City, in New York in April, 2011, and has returned to its Venice nest. The play runs at the Electric Lodge through February 26, on Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm and Sundays at 2pm.

Tickets are $25, $18 for seniors, and $15 for students available thru brownpapertickets.com. Electric Lodge also offers a special $50 dinner and a show deal in association with Hal’s for the Saturday performances. Reservations for this offer must be made in advance at livearts@electriclodge.org.