Every second Thursday of the new month, downtown LA is gripped with a tame insanity. During Artwalk, thousands of people roam the city's sidewalks; its skin; and together, the streets' and people's energies fuel the symbiosis that sustains Artwalk. All the galleries spotlight the latest cycle of pieces and patrons bump shoulders amidst the crowds' ebb and flow. Venues lend their stages to raw bands, and artisans display their crafts for generously reasonable prices. Every block vibrates with a different band's music, while the smells of carne asada and cilantro waft over from various taco vans, fumes weaving in and out of the crowds, flirting with their appetites. The entire phenomenon that is Artwalk transforms LA into a breathing entity whose skin crawls with microbes, their pulses synchronized by the bass lines from live shows. And yet, each critter boasts its own individuality with a Mohawk here and some body paint there.
Most memorable of all the artistic expression from last Thursday was the body painted contortionist who effortlessly folded her spine and floated her limbs through movements in the Temple of Visionz. She became a gem in the kaleidoscope of colors of the backdrop, twisting rhythmically for the DJ sharing the stage; movements that would injuriously snap anyone else who would foolishly endeavor to mimic the dance.
I apologize for the delayed posting, owed to post-Artwalk freestlying and late night munchies, and then further prolonged by what rounds up to a full day's worth of traveling en route to Buenos Aires. Were it not for the lack of internet within cabin walls, this post would have been brought to you sooner, somewhere between Lima, Peru and Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Next up is host families, city tours and welcome dinners.