CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
May 9, 1993
In light of the approved 10 p.m. beach curfew in Newport Beach, I feel a bit saddened by the fact that residents like myself may no longer enjoy late evenings by the water's edge ("City to Close Beach at 10 Each Night," April 28). Fortunately, I sympathize with the City Council in their decision to close the beach at that time, for I already feel a prisoner in my home when graffiti taggers and other out-of-towners invade my neighborhood. MICHAEL ARENS Newport Beach
February 15, 2009
Reading "Coasting at Water's Edge" by Christopher Reynolds [Feb. 1] was enough inspiration for me to drive up the coast for a couple of days. If you're headed to Ragged Point, featured in the article, you may want to take time to stroll the locals-built footpath along Moonstone Beach Drive in Cambria. On the other side of the street I stayed at the cozy Castle Inn by the Sea. Someday I plan to follow Reynolds' trail all the way up to the Battery Point Lighthouse in Crescent City. Problem is there are too many distractions along the way, so this may take a very long time.
April 26, 1992
Regarding the article "Portrait of the Dartist" by Andrew Greeley (Traveling in Style, March 1): It is very clear to a Dubliner, like myself, that Greeley does not know Dublin. The DART is a great mode of transport and it is also a marvelous way for a visitor to see the Bay of Dublin in all its beauty. But I wouldn't like a prospective visitor to take Greeley's suggestions too literally. For instance, he suggests visiting the beach or strand at Clontarf by getting off the DART at Killester and walking down to the water's edge.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
June 25, 1989 |
Fausto Matus bounced his timeworn red Chevy truck down the steep dirt tracks of the city neighborhood known as Lomas Taurinas, or Bull Hills, signaling his presence with a confident honk of the horn. The labored arrival of the battered, lunging vehicle, water cascading from the open spout hole on top of its tank, was a welcome sight for some. For others, it served as a cursed reminder of an unfortunate and seemingly intractable predicament. "It's about time," declared one woman, preoccupied, she later explained, about how she was to wash clothes and dishes for her family of 11. Matus parked his truck, opened a rear valve regulating the flow from its cylindrical tank and began to dispense water via an elephant trunk of a hose into 55-gallon drums positioned outside the woman's simple home.
May 1, 1989 |
At nightfall, deep within thick stands of white birch and pine, the one they call Eagle Woman burns sweet grass and waves feathers over a small band of Chippewa to purify them for the mission ahead. The braves take drags off a ceremonial pipe, offer apologies to the fish they are about to spear and dip their boats into the icy, gin-clear waters of Rainbow Lake. Guided by bright lamps, they glide silently toward gravel-bottomed shallow waters where the tasty walleyed pike go to spawn shortly after the spring thaw.
June 23, 1989 |
Kitsch and commentary both get their due in the recent work of Wick Alexander, now on view at the Dietrich Jenny Gallery (660 9th Ave.). From black velvet parodies to brightly hued tragedies, Alexander's paintings charm, tease and lament. Humor collides with mortality on more than one occasion and violence--to the body, spirit and earth--thrives in beautiful locales. Alexander, a local artist and graduate of the UC San Diego Master of Fine Arts program, paints with a light touch; his clear, accessible forms evoking aspects of illustration, cartoons and folk art. Whether taking a pointed view of the U.S. border with Mexico, a satiric stab at condos on the fairway or a voyeuristic peek into a gringo's tropical island fantasy, Alexander approaches his subjects with a naive charm.