Yesterday I spent a good chunk of time down at the beach in Venice. One of my friends has studio space there where she paints. She invited me to come down, bring my gear and set up easels for a while. I was happy to oblige.

 

Here’s a weird thing about living in L.A.: unless one resides near the shore, one may rarely see it. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I spent a day at the beach. It was probably when out-of-town guests visited and wanted to stick their toes in the sand. And I can say the same thing about all kinds of places around L.A. I don’t practice being a tourist in my own town. As much as I love living in this sun-drenched region, I don’t actually soak up that sun. Good thing I’ve got a friend at the beach to coax me out of my shell.

 

And this friend is just lovely. And I adore her work. (You might adore her work, too.)  She’s one of those people whose light is sorely needed by the Universe. And, well, I love the way she shines.

 

Anyway, after driving to Venice and exchanging greetings, we got serious and started painting. We talked and philosophized, laughed and pondered. After a while, she was very nearly finished with her painting, speedy gal that she is. I had gotten a first layer on, slowpoke that I am. (I’ll finish after a few more sessions and then I’ll share.) And then it was time for the really important stuff: lunch!

 

We wandered over to the boardwalk and meandered down the beach. If you’ve been to Venice Beach, you’re surely getting a visual right now, maybe some smell-o-vision, to boot. If you’ve not been, allow me to be your guide… On one side is the sand and then the Pacific Ocean. It’s beautiful. It was sunny and cool out, and the water was dancing blue. This ocean side of the boardwalk is populated with individuals selling everything from art and music to tarot readings and incense. The other side of the boardwalk is filled with store fronts and restaurants. The boardwalk itself (actually it’s pavement) is pretty wide. Thank goodness, too, as there are about a jillion people around. There are pedestrians. There are bicyclists. There are roller-bladers and roller-skaters. There are skateboarders. There are sikhs on homemade, one-of-a-kind, wheeled devices (I don’t know what else to call them) and there are weight-lifters making their way to “Muscle Beach.” If it is imaginable, someone on Venice beach is doing it.  Or smoking it. Seriously, if you can dream it, it’s there. In short, it’s a freak-fest. And I absolutely love it.

 

 

So my friend suggested we lunch at a place called “Poke Poke – The Surfer’s Sashimi.” We sat in the sunshine, breathing in the fresh air and getting a major protein fix of spicy ahi tuna, Hawaiian style. (Sorry I didn’t take a picture of the food – I was too busy eating it!) After the last of my co-cola was slurped, we made our way back to the studio. As the afternoon was wearing on, I loaded my wet painting into the trunk and we said our goodbyes. Then I hit the freeway for the super-traffic-y drive home.

 

I can’t say anything extraordinary happened yesterday. I just wanted to share my enjoyment of a day at the beach. I don’t get there very often, and that’s a shame. I don’t see my friend nearly enough, and that’s a shame, too. But you know what? I own a lot of wide-brimmed hats. Maybe I’ll try and slather on the sunscreen and head down to the beach a little more. I sure do like the idea. Freak-fest and all.

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