Last weekend, I made an art piece using a reclaimed barn wood board and some heart milagros. For anyone not familiar with milagros, they are small charms, usually made of mixed metals, tin, silver, gold, or other materials. They are traditionally used as votive objects on shrines and altars for prayer and healing in Mexico, other Latinx countries, and parts of the United States. Milagro usage in North, Central, and South America comes from ancient Iberians who inhabited the coastal regions of Spain. In addition to their use in prayer, milagros may also be carried for good luck and are sometimes used as decorative embellishments on mirrors, picture frames, and other items.
The heart milagro represents the healing of heart-related illnesses or gratitude for such healing, but it can also represent love, general healing, and gratitude. I chose heart milagros because I felt I could use a reminder to have gratitude, and although I am not a religious person, it can’t hurt to focus on love and healing, right?
I had already purchased the barn wood a few months ago to have something on which to paint things for my garden. I got the wood from a seller on Etsy, and I got the milagros from another Etsy shop.
Milagros are often attached to wood using small nails, as they typically have a hanging loop; however, I decided to use Gorilla Glue, since I didn’t have nails that were small enough to fit through the holes. It took a few tries to get the arrangement of the milagros the way I wanted. I finished it up by attaching hanging hardware on the back. I was happy with the final result!
Now, when I see my milagro art, I think about the things for which I am grateful. I also reflect on my health and that of my loved ones and wish for good health for all of us. It also reminds me to appreciate love in all its many forms. Wishing love, healing, and gratitude to all of my readers!
The finished milagro art piece, hung with two mixed media pieces by Santa Cruz artist Bridget Henry.
I truly love my collection of original artwork. Some of the pieces just caught my eye, some were purchased on trips, and some were created by talented friends and acquaintances. As a hobby artist myself, I also have a bunch of my own work (mostly in boxes and folders). It’s more fun to display the work of others!
Me with a mixed media piece by Jesse Reno and a vase and table made by Jamie Vaida in 2006, Oakland, CA
Prompted by recently buying a couple of small prints to support a Santa Cruz artist during the COVID-19 pandemic, I was reminded of how much I enjoy all the art I am so lucky to have, so I decided to write about it. I realized that I had never made a record of my art and when and where I got it. Also, I wanted to give some recognition to the artists who created the works I own–I know some of them are struggling right now because creating or teaching art was an important (or in some cases, a primary) source of income. I also wanted to give props to some of my art teachers over the years (apologies to a couple I may have neglected to include here).
Early Art Teachers: Tunkhannock, PA
My first private art teacher was Charlotte Ciccone. I took classes with Charlotte in the early 1980s, where I mainly did work in acrylic and watercolor. These classes were held in my hometown, Tunkhannock, a small, historic town in the mountains along the Susquehanna River in northeastern Pennsylvania.
Another early art teacher was Sue Hand. I studied with her during my high school days, in the mid-1980s. Sue is a prolific and very talented artist who lives in Dallas, PA, not far from my hometown. Sue and her husband, Joe, own Sue Hand’s Imagery, a shop and studio that offers art supplies, custom framing, and classes by Sue. We students often called her “Auntie Sue” because of her warm and supportive style.
First Artworks
Below is probably the first piece of original artwork I acquired. I got it from a coworker, Sam Erickson, in a holiday gift exchange (I think in 1990) when we were both working at a medical journal publishing company in Philadelphia called Current Science. It was my first job after college, and I worked there from the summer of 1990 to September 1993. The very talented Sam went on to become a successful rock photographer and filmmaker in New York. Sam is the Vice President and Head of Production at Arcade Productions, a subsidiary of Sony Entertainment. See Sam’s work at the Morrison Hotel Gallery.
Mannikin photograph by Sam Erickson
Below is a home blessing done in Japanese calligraphy by Laurie DeMarco Alagha, one of my best childhood friends, in 1993. The characters from left to right are “zuiki” (good omen), “shu” (come together), and “mon” (gate or house), so it means “May good fortune gather in your home.” Laurie made it for me as a wedding gift during the time she was living in Japan. Although my marriage didn’t last, my friendship with Laurie goes on across the miles and through many years, and this calligraphy piece brings back good memories. It’s also so special to have artwork made by a friend.
Japanese calligraphy by Laurie DeMarco Alagha
The print below is another wedding gift given to me in 1993. It was created with a photocopier. I don’t know who the artist is, but I love its graphic qualities and the repeating thorn motif. My close friend Cathy Connor gave it to me. Cathy and I remain friends, despite living across the country from each other, and it’s wonderful to have a piece that reminds me of her. (Pardon the reflection on the glass!)
Photocopy art
I bought this simple tapa painting in Tahiti in 1996. Unfortunately, I don’t know the artist’s name, as it is not signed. Tapa is a type of fabric made from tree bark; typically, a design or pattern is painted on it. I really like this piece, and buying it (as well as doing research for this blog post) allowed me to learn more about Tahitian art and history. What’s more, having this tapa painting brings back wonderful memories of the trip to the main island of Tahiti and to the islands of Bora Bora and Moorea that I took with my friends Laurie and Cathy in 1996. Cathy and I were both going through tough times in our life then, so the trip was really special for us. Read more about tapa at Welcome Tahiti.
Tahitian tapa painting
Here is a piece for which I have only a vague memory of how and when I got it: It’s a greeting card with a print of a (well-endowed) monkey. Unfortunately, it is not signed by an artist. I am pretty sure my friend Vicky Maxon gave me this card either for my 30th birthday in 1998 or when I bought my house in Philadelphia in 1999. I wish I knew more about who created the image! I wish I had a better memory in general!!!!
Moving to California: My Collection Grows
“Las Vegas Series II” is a painting by a friend of a friend and was done in 2005. I think it is acrylic or gouache on panel. My friend Rachel Delp gave this to me (I think as a gift to commemorate my moving from Philadelphia to the San Francisco Bay Area to start graduate school? Again, I wish I’d kept better track of exactly when I got some of my artwork and/or that I had a better memory!). Rachel was living in Cómpeta, a quaint village in the mountains of southeastern Spain, at that time. The artist, Scott Lidgett, was a British expatriate also living in Cómpeta. Sadly, he died of cancer a couple of years after this work was completed. I love all the textures and tones of this painting. I am a big fan of desert landscapes.
“Las Vegas Series II” by Scott Lidgett
This iron sculpture of an embracing couple and the rebar and marble pedestal on which it rests were gifts from my friend and then-partner Jamie Vaida in 2005 or 2006. At the time, we were living in Oakland, CA. I had moved to California in 2005 to start a doctoral program in psychology at the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco. Jamie and I had met at Burning Man in 2004, and after a long-distance relationship, he decided to move to California with me. Originally, the sculpture was powder-coated with a dark blue finish, but as I’ve displayed it outdoors for many years, the weather has replaced the paint with a beautiful rust. Jamie is a talented metal artist who is originally from Massachusetts and lived for many years in Colorado before moving to the San Francisco Bay Area. Jamie designs and fabricates beautiful metal railings, gates, furniture, and other pieces, as well as doing fine art out of his Oakland studio. Find him at Vaida Metals Sculpting.
SSculpture and pedestal by Jamie Vaida
I love the following print by Oakland artist Fernando Reyes. I’m not sure if it is a linocut, woodcut, or monoprint, but I think it’s a woodcut. As with some of my other artwork, I can’t remember the exact date when I purchased it, but I believe it was around 2006 (although I may have bought it on a later visit to Reyes’ studio in 2016). My then-partner, Jamie, and I had gone to an open studio event in the Jingletown section of Oakland. Reyes works out of Ford Street Studios and does drawing, painting, printmaking, and cutout artworks. Again, I wish that both my records and my memory were better!
I bought this mixed-media work on a wood panel, “Sleepwalker,” by Portland, OR, artist Jesse Reno after Jamie and I took a road trip through northern California and Oregon in 2006. We saw an exhibit of Reno’s work at a cafe in Portland’s Hawthorne District, and I was taken by Reno’s evocative “neo-primitive” works and social commentary. Reno is a self-taught mixed media artist who has seen great success over the years since he began exhibiting his work in 2001. “Sleepwalker” is a statement about information overload in the contemporary world and the fact that people are often sleepwalking through life.
“Sleepwalker,” mixed media on wood panel by Jesse Reno
Below is another work by Jesse Reno. I think I got this one in 2007 or 2008. This piece is called “Feel, Not Think” and I like the sentiment, as I tend to be a thinker. I’m glad I bought these two Reno paintings when I did, as I’m not sure I could afford them today!
“Feel, Not Think,” mixed media on wood panel by Jesse Reno
This fun linoleum block print, or linocut, was done by Christine Weibel, who is a graphic designer and illustrator. Christine and I took linocut and monoprint classes together from 2008 to 2010 in San Francisco from Katie Gilmartin, a wonderful artist and teacher. I was always impressed by Christine’s talent, meticulousness, and patience. And, she is just an awesome person! This print was inspired by a cat named Baumans that would move its mouth like it was talking. I think it was created in 2008 or 2009. A wonderful thing about taking print classes is that it’s common for students to exchange prints with each other. I have some other amazing prints by past classmates and a few teachers, too, that are not currently on display. One of these days, I will get some more of them framed.
“Baumans, the Amazing Talking Cat,” linocut print by Christine Weibel
Below is a linocut that I made in Katie Gilmartin’s class in 2008 or 2009. I was really into circles for a while and did a lot of prints that had repeating circles as a theme. I liked that they represent ongoing cycles of life. I also really like working with patterns.
“Organic,” linocut by me (Blair Davis)
My classes with Katie Gilmartin weren’t my first experience with printmaking: I had taken classes at the Fleisher Art Memorial in Philadelphia from 2000 to 2005, first with the amazing Charlotte Yudis and then with the talented Christine Blair. In those classes, I mostly focused on intaglia etching. Those classes were special to me–I learned so much, and I had a great time working with Charlotte, Christine, and the other students. Read more about the Fleisher Art Memorial. Find Christine Blair on Facebook or on Instagram at @christineblairart.
Humboldt County and Santa Cruz
In 2010, I moved from Oakland to McKinleyville, CA, to take a postdoctoral fellowship at Humboldt State University in Arcata doing therapy with students. I wasn’t too happy to move to Humboldt County. Don’t get me wrong–it is an absolutely gorgeous place, with rocky beaches, redwood forests, farms, some quaint little towns, and nice people. But for me, it was just not where I wanted to be. The postdoc paid the worst of all the positions to which I’d applied, and it was FAR away from the San Francisco Bay Area and all my California friends. Also, McKinleyville is a very small, rural town, a far cry from the urban life I’d been used to after 19 years in Philadelphia and 5 years in Oakland! One of the saving graces of my 2 years in McKinleyville was that the area had a lot of artists and an amazing art crawl once a month in the neighboring town of Eureka. At one of these art events with friends, I picked up this adorable ceramic skunk by Diane Sonderegger. I’d seen (and smelled) a lot of skunks around the dirt road where I lived in McKinleyville, so the skunk seemed like a fitting memento of my life there.
I moved to Santa Cruz, CA, in August 2012 to work at University of California, Santa Cruz, as a psychologist; I was there from 2012 to 2019. Santa Cruz is not a big city like Philadelphia or Oakland, but it is busier and less isolated than Humboldt County, just a 75-mile drive to San Francisco and Oakland. I enjoyed the laid-back lifestyle and natural beauty of Santa Cruz, as well as the friends I made there. I also enjoyed all the art!
Although the following piece was done in 1999, I didn’t receive it until 2012 or 2013. It is a monoprint by artist and professor Sharon Bowar Cosgrove, who is based in Wilkes-Barre, PA. My mother, Penny Davis, bought this for me as a gift. Sharon has had an interesting career: Her work has been selected for the Art in Embassies Program sponsored by the U.S. Department of State and was displayed at the U.S. Embassy in Astana, Kazakhstan. She is the recipient of the Medici Award in Painting from the International Biennale Exhibition of Contemporary Art, in Florence, Italy, and has been Visiting Artist in Philadelphia; Umbria, Italy; Rome; and Ireland. Sharon has taught in Florence, Italy and facilitated group painting and mural projects with international artists, students, and victims of domestic violence. I find this piece soothing and peaceful. Don’t mind the reflection on the glass–photographing framed artwork can be challenging!
“Light Through the Trees,” monoprint by Sharon Bowar Cosgrove
Here’s a fun piece I bought at a print sale at UC Santa Cruz in 2012 or 2013. At the end of every academic year, the university’s print shop would have a sale of student work. I wish I had the full name of the artist who made this. It’s signed “Jorden,” so that’s all I’ve got. I think it’s a linocut, but it could be a screenprint. Again, there are some unfortunate reflections on the glass.
The whimsical linocut below was done by Jose Pulido, an artist from southern California who is influenced by popular culture and his Mexican heritage. I have a thing for monkeys, so I was searching around on Etsy for monkey-related art and found this print of a fancy chimp some time around 2013. These days, Pulido mainly creates prints of calaveras, decorative skulls that are associated with Mexico’s Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. Find his work in his Etsy store, Mis Nopales.
Linocut print by Jose Pulido
I just love this cat-bat mixed media piece on wood by AJ Sharkstar, a close friend and talented artist based in Oakland. She has worked as an indoor and outdoor muralist, shown in galleries, and done guerrilla street art, among other things. Her trademark is fanciful creatures, often painted on sidewalks, rocks, and driftwood. This piece was a Halloween gift in 2014. Below is a photo of a coffee table that was a collaboration between AJ and her husband, Todd Andrews (another close friend, whom I met in grad school in the mid-2000s). The table was another gift, created in 2014. See more of AJ’s work on her blog and website.
Cat-bat by AJ Sharkstar, mixed media on woodCoffee table by Todd Andrews and AJ Sharkstar
This painted engraving on wood brings back happy memories of a trip I took to Hawaii in July of 2017. I stayed mainly on Oahu, with a quick side-trip to the Big Island. I purchased this print on Oahu’s North Shore, in Haleiwa, at The Beet Box Cafe, a cute place where I had a delicious organic vegetarian lunch. There was an exhibit of local artwork, and this piece caught my eye. The artist, Patrick Parker, is originally from Southern California and now lives on Hawaii.
“Energy Source,” painted engraving on wood by Patrick Parker
Below are two fun prints by Hawaiian artist Welzie that I bought on the same Hawaii trip in 2017. I got these on Oahu’s North Shore, in Waialua, at the Sugar Mill, a historic complex that was a functioning sugar mill until 1996 and now houses shops and other businesses. Welzie, who started out as a surfboard artist, creates whimsical paintings and murals. His paintings are shown throughout Hawaii’s fine art galleries, and he has done large-scale murals in California and Mexico. I love the octopus, but the turtle is special to me, because I absolutely fell in love with sea turtles on my two trips to Hawaii (before my 2017 trip, I had visited Maui in 2014).
Sea turtle and octopus paintings by Welzie
My friend Laurel Bushman, who lives in Santa Cruz, is a super-talented artist who does fine art, murals, teaching, and more. She painted this watercolor of beautiful monarch butterflies in 2017. I bought it from her in 2018. Not only is this painting lovely, but it reminds me of Laurel and her husband, Geoff, because they have raised monarchs in their home to release and help repopulate. I have this piece hanging above my desk, and it’s nice to look up and see it while I am working.
Monarchs watercolor by Laurel Bushman
I’m not sure who created these paintings, as they are not signed. The animals were painted on vintage postcards in Rajasthan, India. I think these may be similar to “assembly line hotel art,” where there are perhaps different people working together to mass produce these little paintings for sale. I could be wrong–maybe it is just one artist creating these charming works. In any case, I love them. I’m a big animal person–I already mentioned that I love monkeys, and I also love big cats, so I could not resist these four paintings. I got them through Etsy, I think in 2018.
Rajasthan leopard and lion painted on vintage postcards
Rajasthan monkeys painted on vintage postcards
In October 2018, I went to an open studios event in Santa Cruz with some friends. We all were taken by the amazing prints of Bridget Henry, a friend of a friend who has a charming studio overlooking the ocean. Henry is a printmaker who is inspired by nature and psychology. She manages the print shop and teaches at UC Santa Cruz. I love the following woodblock print of an old, dilapidated church. I find such beauty in things that are weathered, falling apart, and being taken over by nature. It was fun being able to look through several different versions of this print and choose the one I liked the best. In case you’re not familiar with the process of printmaking, each print in a series is often slightly different from the others, since each one is hand-inked. Although an artist typically tries to use the same colors and methods for each print in a series, it’s inevitable that there will be some slight variations in color and tone. After I bought this print, I started following Henry on Facebook and Instagram and recently bought a few more, smaller, prints from her on Etsy (see below).
“Broken Halos,” woodblock print by Bridget Henry
This shadow box was created by my friend AJ Sharkstar (see above for more info on her fabulousness)! Because it had been created a while back and was a little faded, I got to collaborate on touching it up with her and her husband, Todd, in April 2019. We had a great time–I love that one of the activities we do together is making art. The second picture below shows the box on the wall of my previous apartment in Santa Cruz with the cat-bat by AJ and some other art.
Mixed media shadow box by AJ Sharkstar
Various artwork, including two pieces by AJ Sharkstar, in my Santa Cruz apartment
Living in San Francisco
I moved to San Francisco in August 2019 to start a new job as a psychologist at University of San Francisco. Soon after I moved, I was walking around my new neighborhood and happened upon a small art gallery called The Great Highway that was having an opening for several local artists, one of whom was Jeana Hadley, a graphic designer and illustrator and the owner of Sealevel Studio. I fell in love with this octopus by Hadley, and since I live near Ocean Beach, it’s fun to have a print with a nautical theme.
Octopus giclée print by Jeana Hadley
My latest acquisitions are three prints by Bridget Henry, which I got through Henry’s Etsy shop. I purchased two small print collages on wood that were done in 2019 and a linocut print on cardboard created in 2020. I had ordered a print collage of a sparrow, not the bunny seen below (got that one by mistake), but I liked this one so much that I decided to keep it rather than return it and get the one I’d ordered. Henry was kind in offering to exchange them and give me a discount, but I was happy with what I received. The process Henry used to make the print collages is interesting: A woodcut was printed on acid-free paper and cut out to collage on a wood block. The background is hand painted with black tea and ink.
Raven print collage by Bridget Henry
Bunny print collage by Bridget Henry
“Good Luck” linoleum block print for the COVID-19 pandemic by Bridget Henry
The last work I’ll show is more of my own. These are just some silly paintings I did in acrylic on old barn wood for my garden. I wanted to paint something fun and represent some of the “wildlife” I see in my garden: bees and gophers.
Garden paintings in acrylic on wood by Blair Davis
This post was one of the most fun and rewarding ones I’ve written, since it was a chance to look at all my art and reminisce about when and how I got it. As I mentioned a few times in my post, I wish I remembered all the details better–this was one of the reasons I wanted to write this post in the first place, so I would not forget even more about my art collection. Note to self: Keep track of the specifics of any art you acquire in the future!
This was also one of the more challenging posts I’ve written: Once I started, I realized how much work it was going to take to photograph all my art, research the dates and circumstances of acquisition for many of the pieces (by looking through photographs and my social media pages for “clues” and asking friends to refresh my memory), and find websites and other information about many of the artists. I hope you enjoyed seeing and learning about my art!
One of the murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
A few weeks ago, I was feeling stir crazy from staying at home during the COVID-19 pandemic (other than walking in my neighborhood and taking a few trips to the grocery store), so I drove to San Francisco’s Mission District to see the Clarion Alley Mural Project. The project is a series of murals, mostly with a social justice theme, painted in Clarion Alley, which runs for one block between 17th and 18th streets and Mission and Valencia streets. Clarion Alley Mural Project (CAMP) was established in 1992 by a volunteer collective of six residents/artists who were inspired by the murals of Balmy Alley, another Mission District alley covered in murals that were created in the early ’70s as an expression of artists’ outrage over human rights and political abuses in Central America.
Murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.Murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
I can’t believe I hadn’t seen Clarion Alley before! I still remember the first time I heard about it: It was 2006, and I was working as a therapist-in-training at my first practicum position, at my graduate school’s outpatient therapy clinic. A young man I was treating for mood and social problems asked me if I knew about “that alley in the Mission with all the murals.” Despite going to the Mission District all the time and being an art lover, somehow I had never made it to Clarion Alley (or Balmy Alley, for that matter). After my client asked me about it, I forgot about the murals, and strangely, I never came across them during any of my days or nights walking around the neighborhood.
Doorways of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
One of the important messages embodied by Clarion Alley is that there should be a place for artists in San Francisco. Gentrification, prioritization of corporations and the wealthy, and a lack of affordable housing and work spaces have pushed artists, as well as many other longtime residents of the Mission, out of the area. Many of the murals address other social justice issues and pay tribute to prominent community members.
My trip the alley was just OK. The murals and other street art in the area were amazing and inspiring. However, it was hard to fully appreciate all the beauty and meaning: With the pandemic going on, I don’t have as much enthusiasm for exploring. Also, I felt like I was doing something wrong by leaving my neighborhood–not following the spirit of the shelter-in-place directive. On top of that, I was sad to see so many homeless people out and about, some in pretty rough shape. Not that that’s unusual in San Francisco, sadly. But the number of people who appeared homeless and were acting out (e.g., yelling, throwing garbage) seemed less typical, plus none were wearing masks. Homelessness and poverty, as well as untreated mental illness, are for sure the types of issues the artists of Clarion Alley are trying to highlight.
Despite the problems of my visit, I am glad to have seen Clarion Alley. After going, I did a lot of online research to learn more about the project. And, next time I feel inspired to leave my neighborhood, I would like to see Balmy Alley. Read more about the Clarion Alley Mural Project and Balmy Alley to learn about the history of both projects.
Note that photos of the Clarion Alley murals are not to be used for any commercial purpose, and permission should be obtained from CAMP before using the site as a location for photography. I attempted to contact CAMP before publishing this blog post, but I did not receive a reply so am hoping that my reasons for showing my photos of some of the murals–to inform my blog readers about CAMP–will fit with the project’s intent.
Still from Tiger King, the Netflix documentary series on Joe Exotic.
The Current State of Things with COVID-19
Wow, how things have changed since my last post on March 14th! At that time, things were heating up with the COVID-19 pandemic, but I was still going to work at my university counseling center job, and we were not yet “sheltering in place,” which started in San Francisco, where I live, on Tuesday, March 17th.
I hope everyone is weathering the ups and downs of this frightening situation as best they can. We all have our particular layers of stress and difficulty. Some of us are isolated and alone. Some are out of work and frightened about how to make ends meet, and some have lost their health insurance along with their job. While some folks have been busy scrambling to transition to working at home with little time (and in some cases, little tech support) to prepare, others are bored with too much free time. Some are living with others, navigating the pressures of being in a confined space together and not being able to get out or have much personal space. Many are struggling to balance multiple roles, such as working from home while parenting 24/7 and overseeing their children’s schooling. Still others are sick or concerned about friends and loved ones who are sick. Then, we have our heroes on the front lines of health care who are putting themselves at risk to take care of the ill. We also have those working in other essential jobs who are at increased risk of exposure but are doing what they have to do.
My heart goes out to everyone. I’m navigating my own ups and downs through this and finding my ways of coping. We each have our own needs and styles. I’ve been coping with being isolated (working at home and living alone) by reading, watching TV and videos, listening to music, taking virtual dance classes, going for walks, doing photography, and overcoming my introvert tendencies to stay in contact with friends more than usual.
I have been aware of my mixed feelings about some of the media I’ve been consuming. I’ve felt the need to limit my overall exposure to news and to avoid certain COVID-related stories. News overload and particularly frightening articles can make me fearful and anxious to a degree that doesn’t feel healthy, so I’ve been more careful about taking breaks and choosing what I read.
Reality TV
In addition to noticing the impact of news on my emotional health, I’ve also been pondering some of the shows I’ve watched that fall into the category of “trash TV”: The two I recently binge-watched, much to my chagrin (although I’m by no means alone), are Tiger King and Love Is Blind on Netflix. For anyone who hasn’t heard of these shows, Tiger King is a documentary series about a man with a private zoo (mainly containing big cats) whose life is a morass of chaos, conflict, and controversy. Love Is Blind is a reality show in which contestants spend a couple weeks “dating” “blind”–each in a separate room, talking to their date but not being able to see them. The contestants were encouraged to propose to the person they liked best, go on a trip together, live together, and get married, all within about a month and a half.
Still from Love Is Blind on Netflix.
I was entertained by both shows, although I felt alternately titillated, disgusted, judgmental, curious, and ashamed throughout watching. In the recent past, I haven’t spent too much time on reality TV or salacious programming, although it’s not like I’m totally above this kind of entertainment: I was an avid fan of The Real World and its spin-off, Road Rules. I’ve watched various reality shows and tabloid talk shows, been a reader of Perez Hilton’s low-brow gossip blog, and been fascinated by trashy true crime series and alien abduction investigation shows. I’m still a huge fan of Project Runway.
The History of “Trash TV”
When you look at the rise of reality TV, particularly the trashy variety, it can seem like a purely contemporary phenomenon. Reality programming (with different degrees of sensationalism) really took off the 1990s with shows like Survivor and various tabloid talk shows, among others, and in the 2000s with a whole slew of shows–the Idol and Real Housewives franchises, Keeping up with the Kardashians, The Amazing Race, Fear Factor … But these shows had their roots in earlier “reality shows” of the ’40s and ’50s, like Queen for a Day and Candid Camera. There were sensational shows throughout the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s (e.g., The Dating Game, The Newlywed Game, Geraldo) that were a part of the lineage of what we think of as modern-day reality TV.
Still from The Newlywed Game, 1970s.Still from The Newlywed Game, 1970s.
An Ongoing Taste for Sensationalism
In thinking about this type of entertainment, I became curious about our taste for gossip, unscripted real-life drama, and salacious tales before TV was ubiquitous. Some of us may have a romanticized view of the past, thinking that maybe people used to have better taste or higher standards for entertainment. But that isn’t true.
As far back as recorded human history, we have been drawn to consume and tell stories. Psychologists have said that one of the most prominent evolutionary features that separates humans from other primates is our mirror neuron system, which allows us to quickly perceive and relate to what other people are doing and feeling. Because humans have this ability and an inborn and adaptive interest in the lives and stories of other people, we have been able to create complex cultures and languages (Stromberg, 2009) and to engage in storytelling. This long history of oral history and telling tales contains many branches, one of which is sensationalism.
One form of sensational storytelling is gossip. Although technically, gossip can be defined as “talking about someone who is not present,” whether positive, negative, or neutral, we usually use the word to refer to saying negative things about someone, spreading rumors, and betraying secrets. Studies show that there may be an evolutionary benefit to talking about others, so we can bond and share social information across a larger network than our immediate connections (Gottfried, 2019); thus, gossip could have some positive functions. However, the negative form of gossip serves to denigrate, judge, and betray those about whom we are talking.
“A Little Tea and Gossip” by Robert Payton Reid, 1887.
When it comes to salacious stories and gossip, there is evidence that they have been with us for centuries. Professor Mitchell Stephens (2007) notes that the Acta Diurna, daily summaries of current events and human interest stories that were posted on public message boards in ancient Rome, were often sensational (and miscommunicated through word of mouth). Stephens also reports that books of the 16th and 17th century used salacious tales to teach moral lessons, as well as entertain. Between 1867 and 1876, the London magazine Belgravia, edited by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, who wrote sensational popular novels, provided shock and titillation on a wide range of subjects with an attention-grasping writing style (Gabriele, 2009). There were many other salacious novels and periodicals through the years.
Acta Diurna, the world’s first “newspaper?”
A related phenomenon is the desire humans have for “celebrity gossip,” which is partly rooted in ancient tales of gods and heroes and stories of royalty. In more recent times, our focus has been on actors, musicians, and athletes. Probably the first gossip tabloid in the United States was Broadway Brevities and Society Gossip, launched in New York in 1916. Initially, Brevities covered high society and New York’s theater world, but by the 1920s devolved into covering society scandals and gossip, eventually leading to the tabloid being shut down in 1925 when its editor and some associates were convicted of fraud and accused of blackmail. Other celebrity magazines of the early 20th century varied from fawning over stars to promoting beauty products to gossip.
Actress Seena Owen on the cover of the November 1922 issue of Broadway Brevities.Article from PhotoPlay magazine, 1934.
Why Do We Love Trash?
Why do we enjoy these forms of entertainment so much? There are a few reasons. To a degree, one reason is the previously mentioned mirror neuron system, which makes us curious about, empathetic to, and responsive to other people. But, there are also parts of our psyche, for better or worse, that compel us to compare ourselves to others, look for others’ flaws and weaknesses, and at times, want to see others struggle and even suffer. There is “good” and “bad” in all of us. We all have the capacity to build others up and tear them down–to delight in others’ successes but also to take perverse joy in their failures and foibles.
As a therapist, I believe it’s normal and healthy to recognize and accept all of our parts, even those we dislike or feel ashamed of. But, we always have the choice to feed and cultivate our better, more prosocial traits and put less time and energy into those aspects of ourselves that can be destructive. So, enjoy the trash TV and tabloid news if you must, but save some time, energy, and attention for those stories and activities that strengthen your healthy sense of self and your desire to connect with, celebrate, and support your fellow humans. Now more than ever, we need to build those aspects of human nature that bring us together.
Additional Reading
Gabriele, A. (2009). Reading Popular Culture in Victorian Print: Belgravia and Sensationalism, New York and London, Palgrave Macmillan.
Calla lilies in my garden. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
I’ll admit that I am feeling anxious today. For anyone living in a cave, let me explain. A state of emergency has been declared in the United States due to the COVID-19 (new coronavirus) pandemic. San Francisco, where I live, declared a state of emergency in late February. The San Francisco Bay Area has had a significant number of diagnosed cases, and the suspicion is that the numbers are actually much higher (test kits have not been widely available, so many people who are sick have not been tested). “Social distancing” (avoiding much social contact with others) has been recommended to slow the spread of the virus, with the hope that this could prevent the U.S. from experiencing widespread serious illness as other countries have, particularly Italy.
Today was extra tough for me because I had to make a difficult decision about dropping out of a dance performance that is happening tomorrow–I almost never renege on a commitment, especially at the last minute, but I felt I had to in order to protect my health and adhere to the social distancing guidelines as I understand them. I did what I felt I needed to, but that does not change the fact that it’s been a rough day.
At work, we recently received a training on shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing.” Shinrin in Japanese means “forest,” and yoku means “bath,” so shinrin-yoku literally means “bathing in the forest atmosphere.” The idea is to immerse yourself in a wooded setting to soak up the physical and emotional benefits it provides. I had read a bit about forest bathing before. In fact, I’d considered trying to get a Forest Therapy Guide certification but decided it was too much time and money for me currently. The Association of Nature & Forest Therapy, located in Sonoma County, is right around the corner from where I live, so should I elect to go through the Guide program in the future, I could easily do so. But that’s beside the point: The point is that I realized that what I needed today was NATURE.
Flowers in Golden Gate Park. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
I’ve long been a nature lover. I’m not a hardcore outdoors person (have only backpacked ONCE in my life and can’t say I’d necessarily do it again), but I definitely am drawn to being outside, walking, hiking, and appreciating the beauty of nature. I find it soothing to be outdoors, whether it’s being active or just sitting reading in a park or taking photos. In fact, I sometimes agonize over whether one of my favorite hobbies, walking and taking photos, defeats the purpose and spirit of forest bathing. (Disclosure: I did walk and take photos today!)
Forest bathing is an exercise in presence and mindfulness. It’s not meant to be a form of exercise or a time for engaging with modern technology (such as cell phones or cameras): It is a practice of simply being in nature, connecting with it through our senses. Research on forest bathing has shown that it’s the nature–not just the walking or being outside–that is healing. People who walk in an urban setting, such as on a residential street, don’t get the same benefit as those who go into a forest or park with lots of green space and trees. Studies show that to reap the most good from the practice, one should engage in it for a total of 2 hours a week or more. The good news for all of us busy people is that you don’t have to walk for 2 hours straight to feel good–the 2 hours can be broken up into smaller chunks throughout the week.
Flowers in Golden Gate Park. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
How does one actually “forest bathe?” It’s very simple. First, find a natural spot, one with trees and greenery. Next, leave your phone and other devices behind. Finally, really BE THERE–use all your senses to experience the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of nature. Yes, simple, but not always easy for most of us, who are very dependent on having our phones with us at all times, checking messages, “being available,” and taking photos.
As I said, I have conflicted feelings about whether my taking pictures when I’m out in nature hinders or helps my being able to relax and take in the healing effect of forest bathing. Today, I took a long walk through Golden Gate Park and on Ocean Beach in a 2-hour window between rain showers. I can’t say that my mind completely let go of my worries: They came and went throughout my walk. But, that is actually a natural part of a mindfulness practice: Our thoughts never completely go away. We just get better at noticing them, trying to quiet the mind, trying not to judge ourselves, and going back to whatever mindfulness practice we are using.
Today, my forest bathing practice involved deep breathing, soaking in the atmosphere of the park and the beach, feeling the wind on my face, watching the birds and occasional people and dogs I encountered, and talking back to my fears and ruminations with whatever seemed to help at the time. I really don’t feel that the picture-taking took away from the experience, but next time, perhaps I’ll try leaving the camera at home to see how it feels. I can say as I spent more time on my walk, I had an easier time letting my thoughts go and releasing some of the physical tension I’d been feeling earlier.
Nasturtium leaves in Golden Gate Park. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
As a therapist, I know that just letting go of thoughts, suppressing or ignoring fears and emotions, and “getting away” from anxiety is not what it takes to have a healthy mind. In fact, if those are our only tools, we will be out of balance. “Sitting with” our feelings is important. Having emotions is a normal and adaptive part of being human. We need to allow ourselves to feel, and we must actually feel in order to get better at not judging ourselves for our feelings. There are times that we need to process our thoughts and emotions so we better understand ourselves and gain new perspectives. It’s also important to experience our feelings and sit with our fears so that we can accept things as they are rather than live in denial or expend a lot of energy wishing things were different. Also, we need to face our fears–if we simply were to avoid anything that makes us anxious or afraid, it’s likely those triggers would cause even more fear, since we would never build our abilities to overcome and cope with our anxieties. We would also never prove to ourselves that we can face certain fears and get through them.
AND, we need to have some quiet and peace within ourselves. We need time to focus on the things that aren’t painful or anxiety-provoking. We need to build appreciation and awareness of what is good in our lives and in the world as a counter-balance to what is challenging and distressing. We need reassurance and positivity. We need ways to relax our bodies and calm our emotions when they become difficult to tolerate and sit with. It’s not a matter of “be with” OR “get away from”–it’s BOTH.
Dunes at Ocean Beach, San Francisco. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
As we wrestle with our current, frightening reality, let’s be patient with and kind to ourselves and others. Each of us may need different ways to cope and soothe. That said, if you haven’t tried forest bathing, I recommend it. If forest bathing doesn’t suit you, I still encourage you to spend some time outdoors. Try sitting on a park bench and people-watching or reading a book. Admire a pretty garden, watch a bird flying, see shapes in the clouds. Fresh air and nature are healing. Peace be with you, and may health and safety be with us all.
After writing my last post on the history of Golden Gate Park’s Conservatory of Flowers, I wanted to learn more about the park as a whole. Also, I’m in love with OpenSF History, a website with an extensive archive of historic photos, and have been diving deep into the site to find historic park photos, so I want to share them. My favorite pictures are those showing everyday people enjoying the park.
I decided to focus more on images than on written history, but I have provided a bit. Much of the information I include comes from FoundSF (a digital archive) and from good old Wikipedia. You can also watch an interesting video about Golden Gate Park by Glenn Lym.
The 1800s
By the mid-1800s, San Francisco was evolving from a minor port town into a metropolis due to the Gold Rush and the discovery of the Comstock Lode, as well as the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869. City officials wanted San Francisco to have the attractions and amenities of East Coast and European cities, such as museums and parks. At that time in the United States, a large park within a city was a new idea but was gaining popularity as a social health movement, given the dirt and noise of late-19th Century cities. New York’s Central Park (1858), Philadelphia’s Fairmont Park (1865), and Brooklyn’s Prospect Park (1866) were Golden Gate’s predecessors and the only similar projects in the United States.
The two men who share the credit for the creation of Golden Gate Park, engineer William Hammond Hall and horticulturist John McLaren, envisioned a bucolic, wooded landscape in which San Franciscans could escape the hustle and bustle of daily life. In 1870, Hall won the bid to do a topographical survey of the land on which the park would be created and to create a plan for the park; work began in 1871.
The land on which the 1017-acre park now sits was previously an ocean of windblown sand dunes with little vegetation. Stage one was growing grass seeds obtained from France. Next came trees in order to stabilize the dunes that covered three-quarters of the park’s area. By 1875, about 60,000 trees, mostly eucalyptus, Monterey pine, and Monterey cypress had been planted. By 1879, that figure had more than doubled to 155,000 trees over 1000 acres. The lush meadows, forests, and gardens, as well as lakes, that eventually were created were made possible by irrigation and water pumped in via two windmills at the western end of Golden Gate, built in 1903.
Newly constructed Conservatory of Flowers, with Oddfellows Cemetery and Lone Mountain in background, 1879. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03211.jpg.
Although Hall and McLaren wanted the park to remain mostly “natural,” they were forced to compromise, with multiple buildings, formal gardens, raceways, and other attractions being added. The Conservatory of Flowers opened in 1879 and is the oldest building in Golden Gate Park. The Music Concourse, with its grand bandshell, was originally a part of a Worlds Fair, the California Midwinter International Exposition of 1894 (which encompassed 200 acres and included 120 structures; more than 2 million people visited). The Japanese Tea Garden is another remnant of the Midwinter Exposition. By the turn of the century, Golden Gate Park was “the free Disneyland of its time” and was a huge success, despite its relatively remote location. Children’s Playground, originally called the Sharon Quarters for Children, opened in 1888, and is thought to have been the nation’s first public playground. At various times, the playground included bears, elephants, a merry-go-round, goat-drawn carts, swings, and other pleasures for children and families.
Performing elephants in Childrens’ Playground, 1890. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.00037.jpg.Two formally dressed boys riding donkeys at Children’s Playground, 1890. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03768.jpg.A child in a goat cart at Children’s Playground, 1890. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03767.Illustration of a bird’s-eye view of Golden Gate Park, 1892. View from east end of park looking toward Pacific Ocean. Seven images at top depict sites of interest. Legend includes cable lines and railroads. Photo from FoundSF.View of Midwinter Exposition of 1894 from Strawberry Hill. Stow Lake, Stow Lake Drive, Lone Mountain, Masonic Cemetery, Oddfellows Cemetery, electric tower, and fairgrounds can be seen. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.02229.jpg.Children’s Playground on Kezar Drive, with carousel, Sharon Building, and gondola swings, 1894. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.01580.jpg.People at outdoor concert at the Music Concourse, 1895. I love all the hats and parasols. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.3678.Crowds and carriages at the Music Concourse, 1895. Quite a crowd! Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.3679.Arizona Garden, which used to be next to the Conservatory of Flowers, 1895. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp70.0227.Bicyclists, probably on Main Drive (now JFK Drive) near present Rainbow Falls, 1989. Bicycles became extremely popular in the late 1800s and early 1900s after the “safety bicycle” (replacing the high-wheel bike) was invented in 1895. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp71.1429.jpg.Child on pony (or donkey?) and child in goat cart, Children’s Playground, 1899. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.6521.
The the Early 1900s: Refugees, Races, and Museums
In the early 1900s, the park was busy with locals and visitors, who came to enjoy the outdoors and to visit the museums and other sights. Bicycling, baseball, boating, and picnics were all popular activities.
Dore Vase, sphinx, and bicycles in front of Memorial (de Young) Museum, 1900. Originally built as Fine Arts Building for 1893 Midwinter Fair. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp70.0247.jpg.Women on a rustic bridge by Chain of Lakes, 1900. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.2851.jpg.Families in the park, 1904. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp71.1439.Recreation Grounds near 7th Avenue. Child posing, with baseball game in background, 1905. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp15.659.jpg.Family feeding ducks, coots, and geese at Stow Lake, 1905. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp15.169.jpg.
After the tragic earthquake and fires of 1906, Golden Gate Park became a site of refuge for many who found themselves homeless and did not have relatives to take them in. Twenty-six official homeless encampments were constructed in Golden Gate Park and nearby. The refugee camps in the park were primarily used as an interim location while the Ingleside horse stables were renovated to house refugees. Over the months following the quake and fires, “earthquake shacks” to house people who had lost their homes popped up all throughout the undeveloped “Outside Lands” (as the sand dunes of western San Francisco were known at that time).
Earthquake refugees in Golden Gate Park mimicking a formal photographic pose. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp15.163.jpg.Earthquake refugees getting food, 1906. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp14.1149. Interior of supply depot shed in Golden Gate Park for refugees after the 1906 earthquake and fire. Kettles, pots and pans, buckets, and blankets can be seen on the shelves. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp102.0010.jpg.
San Francisco bounced back from tragedy. As the refugees found more permanent homes, Golden Gate Park soon went back to its original purposes–recreation and culture.
Harness race in Golden Gate Park Stadium, 1910 (now known as the Polo Fields). Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp33.03913.jpg.It doesn’t seem that the picnickers of 1910 were very concerned with litter. Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow). Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03863.People and puppy, 1914. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.4845.A family and friends on a motorbike in the park, about 1915. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.6027.jpg.A family picnic, 1915. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.6026.Children in a car at the May Day festival in Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1918. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp36.01854.
The De Young Museum’s original building was the Fine Arts Building from the Midwinter Exposition, of which de Young was the director. A new museum for de Young’s vast collections was completed in 1921. (The current extensive reconstruction of the museum began in 2001, and it reopened in 2005.)
The original museum of the California Academy of Sciences consisted of eleven buildings built between 1916 and 1976 in Golden Gate Park. The original structures were largely destroyed in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, with three of the original buildings conserved for the new construction, which opened in 2008.
Cameraman filming Bathing Beauties posing on a Franklin car (air cooled, so no radiator on the front) at Chain of Lakes, 1920. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp26.842.jpg.Girls’ picnic at Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1920. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp30.0254.Man and children on a circle swing, Children’s Playground, 1920. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03672.Woman and four girls enjoying the park at Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1921. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.2825.Man with zebra-drawn cart in the park, 1925. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp14.4531.jpg.Family by the Children’s Playground bear pit, 1925. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp26.1346.After visiting the bear pit, this family enjoyed a picnic, 1925. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp26.1351.
Tough Times
During the Great Depression, the San Francisco Parks and Recreation Department ran out of public funds, so maintenance of Golden Gate Park was taken over by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a government program providing employment and community improvements during the economic woes of the 1930s. The WPA built roads in the park, as well as other park fixtures, including an archery field, parts of the arboretum, Anglers Lodge, and the adjoining fly casting pools.
May Day festival at Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1933. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.3147.
Today
A lot has changed in Golden Gate Park since the early days. However, a lot is still pretty much the same: The western end of the park remains mostly natural, with trails, lakes, and woods. The windmills, Conservatory of Flowers, and Music Concourse are still there. People still row boats and fish on Stow Lake. Some roads and meadows have been renamed, and museums have been expanded and modernized, but the beauty and charm of Golden Gate Park lives on.
With 24 million visitors annually, Golden Gate is the third-most-visited city park in the United States after Central Park and the Lincoln Memorial. Golden Gate is 20 percent larger than Central Park, at more than 3 miles long and half a mile wide. I’m lucky to live within walking distance of this beautiful treasure.
I’m on a roll, making up for lost time with blog posts after not having written for several months! Today, I visited the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, a beautiful building full of tropical plants in Golden Gate Park. This Victorian-era attraction is the oldest public wood-and-glass conservatory in North America. After my visit, I did some deep digging online and found some interesting history, as well as a ton of photos. Note that most of the history provided here comes from the Conservatory’s website.
The San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, probably in 1878 or 1879. Lone Mountain is in the background at right. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website.
Early History A San Jose landowner, James Lick, had ordered conservatory materials to be shipped from New York in the 1870s to construct two private conservatories; however, Lick died before his projects could be built, and as his estate was being divided, 33 tons of the glass were donated to the Society of California Pioneers. In 1877, the Society of California Pioneers sold the conservatory pieces to 27 prominent San Franciscans and local philanthropists, including former Mayor William Alvord, Charles Crocker, Leland Stanford, and Claus Spreckels. It was the intention of these men to donate the conservatory materials to the City of San Francisco for public use in Golden Gate Park, which was being created.
A stipulation of the donation was that the conservatory be erected within 18 months, so it had to be built quickly. This happened, even though the steamer Georgia, which was carrying some of the construction materials, sunk. This may explain why the San Francisco Conservatory does not seem to have had a formal opening date, but rather a “soft opening” sometime in the middle of April 1879. In addition to the glass from Lick, the building materials included local old-growth redwood and other native trees.
The Conservatory in 1879. This may be during construction, as the building appears to be unpainted.
Conservatories were very popular in the Victorian era, and the San Francisco Conservatory was no exception, fast becoming the most visited location in Golden Gate Park. It was beloved by both locals and visitors. The original layout included a fountain in the entryway and another in the Palm Room, under the dome. The west wing displayed flowering and ornamental foliage in one gallery and hard-wooded plants, like azaleas, in the other. The east wing featured the Orchid House and an aquatic plant gallery with a large pond, which contained the Conservatory’s first blockbuster exhibit: the Victoria regia, a giant water lily, with leaves that grow several feet in diameter. This plant was the first of its kind to be grown in California and brought both recognition and crowds to Golden Gate Park. The Conservatory still boasts these gorgeous giant water lilies today.
The Pond Room in the late 1800s. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. The Pond Room today: in December 2019.The Conservatory in 1882. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.1934.
The Conservatory survived a fire originating in the furnace room in 1883 that destroyed the central dome and many plants. With no public funds available for repairs, private donor Charles Crocker provided $10,000. During the restoration, the dome was raised by 6 feet, and the eagle finial on top of the dome was replaced with the planet Saturn, probably a reference to the ancient Roman god of agriculture. In 1895, the Conservatory was wired for electricity for the first time.
The remnants of the dome following the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.1318.Reconstruction of the dome underway, mid-1880s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.4131.View from Arizona Garden down to the Conservatory of Flowers in the mid-1880s. Dome appears to be under reconstruction following the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.02290-L.Ceremony for laying the cornerstone of the Garfield Monument, August 24, 1883. View northwest across Main Drive (John F. Kennedy Drive today) toward the dais and crowd. Conservatory dome under reconstruction after the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03265.The Conservatory with the new dome, with visitors coming by horse and buggy. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but likely at the end of the 1880s.)Interior shot, 1886. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03465.Crowds of visitors in 1887. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp71.1427.The Conservatory’s flowerbeds decorated with “parterre” designs, 1890. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp70.0232.The Conservatory in 1900. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1900s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.04228.
The devastating San Francisco 1906 earthquake and subsequent fires did little damage to the Conservatory. The area leading up to the building, known as Conservatory Valley, became a temporary refugee camp for people who had been left homeless by the disasters.
Refugee camp outside the Conservatory after the 1906 earthquake and fire. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website.Refugee camp in Conservatory Valley, looking south to Mt. Sutro, Clary Collection. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp33.00936.Three men with basic necessities (including whiskey) in front of a tent in a refugee camp, probably in Conservatory Valley. Note Iron Bridge in background. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp15.162.Men view the earthquake refugee camp near the Conservatory. View from steps of Arizona Garden. Affiliated Colleges in distance on Mt. Sutro. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.501.Water fountain in front of the Conservatory, designed by Melvin Earl Cummings and formally accepted by the Park Commission in June 1904. Photo taken in 1909. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp33.03902.1910. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1910s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03870.1915. Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp14.4628.
Another fire originating in the furnace room damaged the Conservatory in 1918, resulting in the partial collapse of the glass roof and damage to the Potting Room. The Conservatory was again able to bounce back from adversity. However, by the 1930s, budget cuts, a result of the Great Depression, meant that park services and staff were reduced, and the Conservatory suffered from neglect. Necessary repairs were not made, and on several occasions the Conservatory was threatened with closure. Accounts vary, but some say that the building was closed for part of the ’30s and ’40s for structural repairs, reopening in the mid-’40s.
The Conservatory lawn in the 1920s. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Snazzy visitors in their car. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but probably the 1920s.) Visitors. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but appears to be the 1920s.) 1920s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp15.675.The Conservatory faced tough times in the 1930s. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1930s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp27.6220.Parterre in front of the Conservatory in honor of San Francisco welcoming the United Nations, 1945. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5246.Visitors in 1945 with United Nations parterre. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp28.1489.Aerial view, April 10, 1947. Photo: Barney Peterson / The Chronicle 1947.Woman in 1950 posing next to floral tapestry reading “Public Parks Junior Tennis Championship” in front of the Conservatory. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp28.3063.Interior shot, 1957. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.1373.1963. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5886.Renovation underway at the Conservatory entrance, 1966. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5712.1973. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp12.00721.The interior of the Conservatory of Flowers, shown on its 100th anniversary on May 19, 1978, looks much the same as it did in 1878. Photo: Clem Albers / The Chronicle 1978.Parterre of 49er helmet reading “Super,” to commemorate the 49ers’ first Superbowl victory, over the Bengals in 1982. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp119.00084.
More Recent History The most devastating damage in the Conservatory’s history was caused by a violent wind storm in 1995 that shattered 40 percent of the building’s glass and destroyed many rare plants. With millions needed for repairs, the building was closed, with many fearing it would never reopen.
With fundraising efforts, including those by First Lady Hillary Clinton, the Conservatory was able to be repaired. Restoration began in 2000 and took 8 years. One major challenge of the repairs was that the Conservatory was built according to a detailed blueprint, which apparently was destroyed in the great fire that occurred after the 1906 quake. This required the architects involved with the project to take the building apart so they could see how it was built in order to restore it. The work also included lead abatement and seismic strengthening. The total cost of the redo: $25 million. A grand public reopening was held in 2003.
Damaged facade in 1995. Photo from https://www.wmf.org/project/golden-gate-park-conservatory-flowers.Man seated in front of Conservatory of Flowers in the 1990s, with sign that reads “Danger Keep Out.” Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp07.00151.Grand reopening gala, 2003. Photo by Katy Raddatz/Chronicle.
Since 2003, millions of visitors have come to the Conservatory of Flowers, and it has been the site of weddings and special events. The Conservatory holds talks by horticultural authors and hosts horticultural societies and botany students. The Conservatory of Flowers has garnered numerous local, state, and national awards, and was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1971. It is a City and County of San Francisco Landmark and a Historic Civil Engineering Landmark.
Personal History I’ve only been to the Conservatory a few times but definitely plan to return again now that I am living in San Francisco. On today’s visit, I saw many lovely orchids, a 100-year-old giant Imperial Philodendron named Phil, beautiful stained glass, koi, and those giant lily pads. During what I believe was my first visit, in 2006, when I was in graduate school and my parents were in town to see me, the Conservatory had a wonderful exhibit on butterflies and bats. (However, I may have visited during my first trip to San Francisco, which was in 1991. It’s hard to remember now!) What a lovely and special place, with so much history!
Butterfly exhibit at the Conservatory, 2006.My dad impersonating a bat at the Bats and Butterflies exhibit at the Conservatory, 2006.My dad admiring the lily pad sculpture in the Pond Room at the Conservatory, 2006.The Conservatory today: December 2019. The sky briefly clears after rainstorms.Koi pond and statue today: December 2019.The Conservatory today: December 2019. Winter “Night Bloom” light show. From FogCitySecrets.com.
I admit that I am fascinated by serial killers. I seek out TV shows, movies, documentaries, and sometimes books about them. I watch with a mix of disgust, fear, and interest. As a psychologist, I want to understand the mind of the psychopath. As someone who is empathic and spends a lot of time helping others, it’s very hard to wrap my mind around what it must be like to be a cold-blooded killer.
I’m not alone in my interest in serial killers. Psychopaths such as John Wayne Gacy, the Zodiac Killer, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and the Boston Strangler have garnered tons of of public attention.
Serial killer Ed Kemper, 1973. Photo from Santa Cruz County Sheriff’s Office.
Diagnosis According to the diagnostic “bible” of mental health professionals, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2013), the category that fits most serial killers, those who killed multiple people on separate occasions for psychological and/or sexual reasons, is Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD). Colloquially, people use psychopath or sociopath more often than APD—technically, they mean the same thing, although in common usage, psychopath usually refers to a more violent form of APD than does sociopath.
The defining characteristics of APD boil down to a long-term pattern of disregard for, or violation of, others’ rights and feelings. While we all probably know someone like this, thankfully most of us don’t know a serial killer. Someone is said to have APD if they have three or more of the following traits that are not better explained by another mental illness (such as bipolar disorder): failure to respect and/or adhere to laws and norms; repeated lying and deceit for personal gain or pleasure; impulsivity and failure to plan ahead; reckless disregard for the safety of self and others; a pattern of irresponsibility with regard to work, finances, and other important areas; and a lack of remorse after having hurt or taken advantage of others. This diagnosis is only used in adults 18 or older—children with such traits are diagnosed with Conduct Disorder (and most adults with APD had Conduct Disorder when they were young).
Serial killers are obviously at the extreme end of the spectrum of APD: On the mild end, you might see someone who cheats on their taxes and cyber-bullies. Serial killers tend to have shown sadistic traits and wet the bed as youngsters and often are fascinated by fire-setting. Contrary to popular belief, most are not “evil geniuses” but have low to average IQ. Most are male (Hickey, 2010; Vronsky, 2007).
How Did They Become Killers? There is no one clear reason why someone becomes a serial killer. Probably, a lot of reasons add up to a seriously disturbed personality. These include “nature” (genes, high testosterone levels, low serotonin levels, head injury, developmental brain anomalies) and “nurture” (antisocial parents, family problems, severe abuse, bullying, societal factors). The fact that there is not a definitive “recipe” for homicidal behavior may be one of the most disturbing aspects to think about: If there is no one obvious reason people become serial killers, how can we prevent them from developing?
A Little History There have likely been serial killers throughout history. Some believe that werewolf and vampire legends were inspired by serial killers (Schlesinger, 2000). One of the most famous historical murderers, often called “the first modern serial killer,” was Jack the Ripper. He killed at least five women in London in the late 1800s and was never caught. The story of these killings spawned a media frenzy, countless movies and books, and one of the earliest “profiles” of a killer (Canter, 1994).
Picture from The Illustrated Police News, October 6, 1888.
In the United States, there have been approximately 2625 documented serial killers. Disturbingly, 76% of all known serial killers in the 20th century were from the U.S. What does that say about our country? I guess it should not be that surprising, given our overall violence compared with many other nations: For example, in looking at homicides in cities around the world, rates in U.S. cities are much, much higher than those in Europe and Asia (Violent Crime).
Why Do We Like Killers? OK, perhaps like is too strong a word. But, maybe we are fascinated by serial killers because they are different from the norm: We are curious about what is unusual. And, we may consciously or unconsciously admire those who don’t care about rules, follow their darkest impulses, and act as they please with no conscience. Glorification of the “outlaw” fits with the history of the United States, built on rebellion, violence, and independence (Edlund, 2017). Americans also have a very complicated psychological relationship with power, dominance, sexuality, and control, all elements of many serial killings.
Some of the characteristics that allow some serial killers to succeed with their crimes may be part of their allure: The ability to charm and manipulate is often in their makeup. Take Ted Bundy, for example. There is something both fascinating and horrifying about the idea that that charming but controlling guy you talked to at a bar or work with could secretly be hiding bodies in his basement. It also makes one think twice about online dating. Other serial killers are not particularly charming but can fly under the radar, living ordinary lives, with others not realizing who they are and what they do.
We may be drawn to stories about serial killers for the same reasons why some people love horror movies. One is that reading or watching tales of serial killers is a safer way to face our fears of violence and death and even experience some excitement and arousal around killing. Murderers’ lives may also hold a dark appeal because it seems taboo to wonder about them. Many people have a desire to seek out what is forbidden or at least have a curiosity about what is outside the realm of everyday life.
Serial Killer Favorites I want to share some of my favorite depictions of serial killers, in case you, like me, have a curiosity about them. My favorite by far has been The Fall,a dark and disturbing three-season Netflix series (2013–2016) set in the U.K. and starring Gillian Anderson and Jamie Dornan. Anderson does a stellar job as the troubled detective tasked with finding serial killer Dornan. The acting and story are what kept me riveted, but I have to admit that the fact that the killer was a mental health counselor added to the draw.
The Silence of the Lambs (1991) is a classic serial killer movie. Anthony Hopkins as the homicidal and cannibalistic Dr. Lecter epitomized the Hollywood image of a psychopath, and Jodie Foster was a compelling and vulnerable hero. The only thing I didn’t like was the movie’s implication that killer Buffalo Bill’s penchant for cross-dressing had anything to do with his murderous instincts. A little-known fact is that one of the inspirations for Buffalo Bill was Philadelphia psychopath Gary Heidnik (who was not a cross-dresser or transgender, by the way). Another inspo was Ed Gein, who was believed to have been trying to make a “woman suit” out of the skin of victims so he could pretend to be his dead mother. (Gein was also an inspiration for Norman Bates in Psycho.)
Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) is certainly another classic of the genre, unfortunately also featuring a cross-dressing killer. Of course, Norman Bates was not necessarily dressing in women’s clothing for sexual or identity reasons but because he was embodying his (deceased) abusive mother. Sorry for the spoiler if you never saw the movie, but come on—if you have any interest in serial killers, you must have watched it!
I really enjoyed the cultural satire of American Psycho (2000), starring Christian Bale. I mean, it’s quite a feat if you can make serial killing humorous. And that business card scene is such a biting send-up of 1980s business culture.
You can bet he’s playing Huey Lewis and the News.
Cormac McCarthy’s novel No Country for Old Men (2005) and the Coen brothers’ 2007 movie adaptation starring Tommy Lee Jones and Javier Bardem are terrifying. McCathy’s novel does a better job of fleshing out the psychological torment of good guy Bell, while the film version better depicts the horror that is Bardem’s Chigurh.
A few runners-up for me have been the Netflix series Mindhunter (which follows FBI agent Ford Holden through his groundbreaking research in the 1970s), the 2007 film Zodiac (about the San Francisco killer), and the Netflix series Manhunt, which humanizes the infamous Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski (and which I mentioned in an earlier post). There are lots more, and some I have not even checked out yet.
For some reason, I am able to “shut it off” pretty easily after reading or watching serial killer tales. However, if you’re more likely to lie awake and afraid afterwards, do yourself a favor and save these stories for daytime consumption!
References American Psychiatric Association (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition. Arlington, VA: American Psychiatric Association.
Canter, David (1994). Criminal Shadows: Inside the Mind of the Serial Killer. HarperCollins.
Well, dear reader(s), it’s been another minute since I posted. I’ve thought about writing many times, but life has gotten in the way. OK, sometimes laziness has gotten in the way, but life, too!
Moving to the Outer Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco a few months ago made me curious about the area’s history and also got me to thinking about how the characteristics of different neighborhoods can impact our thoughts and emotions. I’ve written before about the psychology of color. Like color, scale and design can shape the way people interact with neighborhoods. As I’ve walked around my new environs, I’ve thought about how the building scale, uniformity, design, and colors make me feel.
Aerial shot of the Outer Sunset, looking north.
History To call the Outer Sunset a “working-class” neighborhood today is a bit of a misnomer: The average house here now goes for about a million dollars. But when they were built, they were meant to allow families with modest means a way to have their own homes. Formerly called “Outside Lands,” comprising acres of sand dunes and scrub, the area started to be developed in the late 1800s when tourist attractions were added to Ocean Beach and Golden Gate Park was created. Initially, it was mostly settled by white Americans, primarily Irish and Italian. Mass home building didn’t take off until after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Large tracts of nearly identical houses were built from the 1920s to the 1960s. There are several commercial strips scattered throughout the Sunset.
Starting in the ’60s, the neighborhood saw a steady influx of Asian (mostly Chinese) immigrants following the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which lifted racial quotas and allowed more non-Europeans to immigrate to the United States. Today, the Outer Sunset is primarily Asian and Asian-American, with Chinese being the dominant culture; the second-largest ethnic group here is European-American.
One of the commercial streets of the Sunset is Irving Street. This shot is on Irving near 24th Avenue, technically in Central (not Outer) Sunset. Photo from sanfranciscodays.com.
Design and Scale The Outer Sunset has a very distinct look and a fairly uniform design. Friends who are not that familiar with the area but have been to San Francisco often look blank when I try to explain where I live, but when I describe the way Outer Sunset looks, their eyes light up with recognition: “Oh, I drove through that neighborhood on my way up the coast!” “Oh, yeah, all those pastel houses!” “I think I was there on my way to Golden Gate Park!”
In some ways, Outer Sunset reminds me of working class neighborhoods in cities back East, where I’m from. Philadelphia, where I spent almost 20 years, has many districts that were built for working people throughout the centuries, and all share a certain style and economy of materials: small homes, often connected in rows; modest design; similarity to the neighbors’ homes (as many were built en masse); generally small (or absent) front yards; human scale.
Unlike the working-class neighborhoods of other cities, Outer Sunset is made up of blocks and blocks of (mostly) pastel stucco houses. The majority of the homes are two-story row houses with a garage on the ground floor and living quarters above. Because property is so ungodly expensive in San Francisco, many homeowners have added an in-law apartment on the ground floor, behind the garage. There are a few three-story homes here and there, and there are some blocks on which the houses have a touch more individual design than on others. Contemporary homeowners seem to be choosing richer paint colors and grays over pastels.
A typical block of homes in Outer Sunset, probably built in the 1940s or ’50s.
Psychology of Design In some ways, the neighborhood’s sameness provides comfort and familiarity. You instantly know it’s a quiet, residential neighborhood when you see all those little pink houses, one-car garages, and quaint touches that help each often-bland facade stand out just a little. There is a sense of peace and orderliness.
Houses along Great Highway, the western-most street in the Outer Sunset.
While you might think that the human-scale architecture, soothing color palate, and walkable streets would promote a sense of community, other design elements fight against it. One is that garages take up most of the first floor, and entrances are hidden by locked metal gates; these features take away from homes having a warm or accessible feel. Also, it’s rare for anyone to be sitting or hanging out in front of their house—most homes lack porches, stoops, and front patios that would allow residents to spend time out front where they could chat with neighbors and passers-by. Houses feel private and hidden rather than open and inviting.
Sunset over the Outer Sunset, with the Pacific in the distance.
One Canadian researcher, Colin Ellard, has found that people are strongly affected by building facades (Bond, 2017). Complex and interesting facades affect people positively, whereas boring and impersonal building fronts can have a negative impact. The Sunset contains a mix of “interesting” versus bland facades, leading pedestrians to feel varying degrees of discomfort versus engagement. Some Outer Sunset streets are much more uniform and uninteresting than others.
According to Danish urbanist Jan Gehl, a well-designed city street should allow the average pedestrian to see an interesting new sight about once every five seconds (Ellard, 2015; Weintraub, 2015). In some ways, the Sunset’s lack of dramatic architectural variety may be offset by the small and interesting details that are visible to those on foot: plantings, murals, interesting paint colors, attractive metalwork, sculptures, benches, and decorative stones. Still, many have criticized the Outer Sunset as being boring and monotonous.
Interesting murals on a house and garage door.
Another much-studied element of the psychology of urban neighborhoods is green space: Access to greenery amidst city buildings is linked to better psychological health. The Sunset lacks a lot of green spaces—some blocks are virtually all concrete—although some streets do boast small trees and strips of yard containing anything from rocks to artificial turf to flowers to succulents. As with other psychological elements of design, the Sunset provides some positives and negatives here.
Pretty planters.Funky yard.
Final Thoughts I’m slowly feeling more at home in my new neighborhood. I can’t say that I have strong positive or negative feelings about the area—for me, it’s a mix. I can say that I wish there were more people out and about when I am walking around, and I also would be happier if the houses had more inviting fronts, with porches and yards. But that said, I am enjoying the Outer Sunset and continue to discover the small details that break up the overarching uniformity. I love seeing the ocean when I’m waiting at the bus stop. I love being able to walk to Golden Gate Park. I love the beachy feel on some of the streets and the interesting mix of cultures. On the surface, it may all look the same, but if you take a closer look, there is a lot to see.
Hello, dear readers! Wow, it’s been a long time since I wrote a post. The past couple of months have been a whirlwind, as I did a little traveling, accepted a new job in San Francisco, moved, and started the job. With so much transition happening, I am feeling both energized and uprooted. Everything is new and strange. I am having to “redo” just about every part of my life: commuting via mass transit, putting my home together, altering my social life, finding my new dance community, dealing with city parking, learning new procedures and routines at work … With all this change, I find myself reflecting on the past.
So, you get yet another “soundtrack” post! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again now: I am not sure anyone but myself enjoys my musical musings, but it brings me joy and comfort to reminisce, so humor me. This post covers favorite songs and bands from my mid-30s to now, which takes us from the mid-2000s to the present.
In the mid-2000s, I was starting another big life transition: I had decided to change careers and apply to graduate school in psychology. I felt that starting grad school presented the opportunity to move to the West Coast, something I thought would be a fun adventure. When I moved to California in 2005 to attend grad school in San Francisco, I figured I’d live in California a few years and then move back East once I had graduated. Well, 14 years later, I am still in California! Go figure.
The mid-2000s were a time of diverse trends in music, and my tastes were also diverse. One genre I continued to like was “lounge,” electronica, and DJ music, particularly RJD2, DJ Krush, Gorillaz, and DJ Shadow. Some of it was good for actual lounging, and some for dancing.
Postmodern virtual band Gorillaz is made up of animated characters and was created by Blur lead singer, Damon Albarn, and artist Jamie Hewlett. The Gorillaz album “Demon Days,” containing the song “Dirty Harry” came out in 2005.
Although it came out in 2001, I was still listening to Krush’s album “Zen” in the mid-2000s.
I was still into indie rock and Britpop, post-punk, and garage rock. Being in the San Francisco Bay Area in the mid- to late 2000s gave me access to a lot of great live shows and exposure to some more obscure garage rock bands a grad school friend was into. I discovered two bands during that time that are still favorites: Brian Jonestown Massacre and King Khan (real name, Arish Ahmad Khan). BJM was formed in San Francisco in 1990. I saw them perform several times in the 2000s; although I love their music, their live shows are spotty and unpredictable, sometimes marred by fist fights or verbal altercations between band founder Anton Newcombe and other band or audience members. The last show I saw, just last year in 2018, was not good–Anton seemed high (he’s struggled off and on with addiction) and was pretty out of it, barely able to perform. The band only played 6 songs before throwing in the towel.
King Khan is a high-energy performer whose music combines funk, garage rock, and other genres. He’s had several bands/projects, including King Khan and BBQ Show, King Khan and the Shrines, and Almighty Defenders. I’ve seen him perform a few times, and it’s always fun and a bit raunchy.
BJM never enjoyed a lot of mainstream fame, but if they had a “hit song,” it was probably “Nevertheless,” released in 2001.
A live performance by King Khan and the Shrines in 2008. This performance is a bit more sedate than many: There are often crazy costumes, antics, and lots of energy.
Lots of indie and garage rock, some of which I started listening to in the ’90s, was still on my playlist through the 2000s (e.g., Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The White Stripes, The Hives, The Vines, Holly Golightly, The Black Keys, The Raveonettes). I also continued to love Radiohead. I still listen to a lot of this music today. Some other favorite bands/artists that recorded in the 2000s (or that I discovered at that time) were Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Franz Ferdinand, Arcade Fire, The Shins, Belle and Sebastian, The Raconteurs, and The Beta Band. My memory of exactly when I got into which bands is a little rusty now!
A favorite Shins song from 2003.
A Black Keys video from 2006.
One of my favorite Yeah Yeah Yeah songs, “Gold Lion,” from 2006.
“Steady as She Goes” by The Raconteurs in 2008.
An artist I always associate with my grad school years (2005 to 2010) is José González. I love his beautiful, moody guitar-heavy music and really got into it during that period. I also started listening more to some country and alt-country, such as Dolly Parton’s bluegrass album “Little Sparrow,” as well as Lucinda Williams, Neko Case, and “Van Lear Rose,” Loretta Lynn’s album produced by Jack White. I also added bands such as Bon Iver, Wolf Parade, Broken Bells, Iron and Wine, and British Sea Power to my library.
A live performance of one my favorite José González songs, “Heartbeats.” Recorded by González in 2003, performance in 2010. (The original was an electronic song by The Knife.)
I also have to include this video, another cover, since the original of “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” by Joy Division, is one of my favorite songs of all time. I love González’s version, too.
In the late ’00s and early 2010s, my musical tastes stayed pretty similar, heavy on garage and post-punk rock, with a bunch of other random stuff thrown in. I also had fun exploring older music, such as classic country and rockabilly (Patsy Cline, Kitty Wells, Roger Miller, Lefty Frizzell, Carl Smith, Ersel Hickey, Johnny Horton) and funk and R&B (The Bar-Kays, Taj Mahal, James Brown, The Mighty Dogcatchers, Robert Jay, The Stovall Sisters, Wilson Pickett, Detroit Sex Machines).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXcIX39J81s
The Detroit Sex Machines–still sounds great today! (recorded around 1970)
A country/rockabilly classic, “Dang Me,” by Roger Miller (1964).
Don’t The Mighty Dogcatchers make you want to dance? (1973)
That brings us up to just a few years ago. What I have been listening to in the mid- to late 2010s has been pretty random: A large sampling of stuff old and new from my iTunes library. Artists I have discovered in the recent past (some of them new, some just new to me) include Ray LaMontagne (yeah, he’s been around a while, but I didn’t really like him all that much until his 2014 album “Supernova,” which I love), Rayland Baxter, Amen Dunes, The Allah-Las, Baby Woodrose, Black Mountain, The Black Angels, Beats Antique, Dan Auerbach, Leon Bridges, The Limiñanas, Stephen Marley, Toro y Moi, and a whole bunch of bellydance and bellydance-friendly music (due to my dance habit!). A few fave artists/bands for bellydance are Solace, Issam Houshan, and Raquy & The Cavemen.
Retro cool sounds from The Limiñanas.
The Allah-Las are slick.
Getting mellow with Rayland Baxter.
A fun and challenging song for American Tribal Style (ATS) bellydance.
There’s much more I could share, but I’m getting tired, so I will end here for now. I hope you have enjoyed the music!
