There is a reason Ed Ruscha photographed Every Building on the Sunset Strip in 1966. It was already an iconic slice of California fantasy. Our Uber driver was just finishing his shift this morning as we spotted one attraction after the other. He told us “the billboards (mostly promoting shows we’ve never heard of) really pop at night.” He dropped us off at Ameba a half hour before they opened so we walked the star-studded sidewalks on Hollywood Boulevard and found a coffee shop next to the yet another Scientology building. Kim Carnes’ “Betty Davis Eyes” was playing on the sound system.
Gene Autry has more than one star on the sidewalk. The store was mobbed by the time we got back there. Peggi and I found two boxes of used jazz 45s and each went through a box. I found it interesting that the smaller San Francisco store had about three times as many. The clerk, who had family in Rochester, told us they had a listening station up until Covid and they never brought it back so we bought a short stack on good faith.
Peggi’s sister made reservations at the Getty and we drove over there in the afternoon. We started with the Gustave Caillebotte show, mostly stunning, large Impressionist paintings of his friends with a few awkward clunkers. And then the three Rembrandt’s in the permanent collection that are seared in my memory from previous visits. I find it especially reassuring that Rembrandt is still laughing in this 1628 self-portrait. Only he has/had the ability to capture a human being for all time.
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