Really, do you want to drive through a long, boring, tunnel with nothing to see on the blanko walls? No stimulation? We, in the 21st century, are a strong visual culture.
I have said this before, we need art and video on the walls of the Devil’s Slide Tunnel.
MOVING images, perhaps of the Coastside’s “wonders” to come. The flowers, the beaches, the cliffs.
Who would sponsor it? How about Hewlett-Packard, Intel, etc., the “trusts” that have been buying up Coastside land, to save it from spiralling growth. With so many creative people on the Coastside, we can do it.
And I have found hope in the “Tunnel” commercial by Honda
Just what I imagine for the interior of the Devil’s Slide Tunnel—giant sunflowers on the walls, deer leaping about the walls, sunshine and the great Pacific Ocean. There’s music too: Hold On Tight by the Electric Light Orchestra.
Cindy Holmboe of Half Moon Bay rightly reminds me that Mother’s Day was not originally a commercially-based event. Here’s a couple of links that give the history of Mother’s Day. Thank you, Cindy.
My dear Aunt Edith, who is in her late 90s, has been living by herself for many years–watched over by her married daughter, of course. Edith, a longtime widow, lived with her mother, my favorite grandmother, taking care of her until she passed away in the 1980s. On her own, Edith has done very well, but she has fallen a couple of times, striking her head. This is what she did the other day, and this time it looks like she won’t be able to live alone anymore. I’m telling you this because I am a great supporter of older folks who want to live on their own.
Here’s a photo of me, my grandmother and Aunt Edith, taken during happier times.
[Images above: “Spring Acrylic,” and “Kathleen,” partly inspired by the beauty of gardens.]
The new work of Miramar Beach artist Linda Montalto Patterson features pattern and movement that will please your eye palette–and look great on your walls. Ms. Montalto-Patterson’s latest paintings can be viewed and purchased at Moon News Bookstore, 315 Main Street, Half Moon Bay.
Linda Montalto was born in Brooklyn, New York. As a youth, her visits to the Museum of Modern Art brought her in contact with Abstract Expressionism and the paintings of Mark Rothko. His work so moved her that she made the decision to dedicate her life to art and the pursuit of beauty.
She began her advanced studies in art on the East Coast but moved west, where she received a masters degree in art at San Jose State University under the direction of Frederick Spratt.
Ms. Montalto moved to the Mediterranean coast of Spain in 1976 with her husband, who was studying the Spanish classical guitar. There, by the sea, her palette turned brighter and she began to incorporate the vibrant use of color that remains a central characteristic of her current work. She continues to be inspired and profoundly affected by her love of nature. At her current home, a cottage on the Pacific Ocean in Northern California, Linda has created a resplendent garden that has been featured on television and in the print media. She is constantly working with the color in her garden and using these natural influences in her paintings.
Linda Montalto’s work has been shown in galleries throughout the San Francisco Bay area and group shows have taken Ms. Montalto’s paintings across the continent.
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Artist’s Statement
My abstract work is usually begun without preconceptions. I attempt to let the paintings evolve naturally. When I do begin with set intentions, the creative process usually overtakes them and the influences of my environment, the landscapes I see, my private dreams and emotions appear in the work as a kind of self-discovery.
These paintings use a process of layering, covering and then peeling away selected bits of color and information. There is movement of one color against another, a kind of force of motion that appears again and again in the work. At times, only an edge of previous color can be seen. I make choices to expose areas or veil them with washes of transparent color. The staining techniques create a richness of color and a lush quality resulting from the drips running over the canvas.
In this current series, amoeba like characters flit about the canvas expressing change, movement and the bounty of nature.
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Here’s a little interview I did with Linda last year, a walk through her beautiful garden in Miramar Beach. Click below
It was strangely silent during the off-season at Bay Meadows in the early years, the 1930’s, the ’40s,but the racetrack remained haunted with the rousing sounds of the “Sport of Kings.”
The memories saturated the air: “Here comes ‘Seabiscuit,’ the rags-to-riches people’s horse, the leading Thoroughbred all-time money winner, ridden by ‘Red’ Pollard, a one-eyed boxer turned jockey, thundering toward the finish line. In the quiet gloom, one could imagine the undulating deafening roar of the crowd from the grandstands.
The paddock was empty. The professional jockeys, remarkable athletes in miniature, wearing their colorful silk shirts, the trainers, an unpredictable lot, and their nervous equine wards, were no where to be seen. This was off-season, and they were elsewhere.
To the half-dozen kids in South San Mateo’s rural neighborhood in the 1940s, it was as if there wasn’t a soul around during off-season.
“And so Bay Meadows became our castle, our fort,” recalls Dorene Miller Pecoraro, who grew up near the racetrack founded by William (Bill) Patrick Kyne in 1934.
Describing herself as “tomboy,” Pecoraro and her friends used the racetrack as their fantasy playground.
“We pretended to hear the announcer say, ‘And they’re off’ as we dashed out of the starting gate.” When they got tired of chasing each other, the kids drifted toward the infield to watch the graceful swans skimming the ponds.
Surrounding the track were a few homes but many more flower nurseries.
“We were the only kids in the area, and we lived out in the country,” says Pecoraro, a longtime El Granada resident. “South San Mateo was definitely rural. People raised chickens in the background.”
Bay Meadows was not only a backdrop, the racetrack was an important part of Dorene Pecoraro’s eary childhood, a time fondly remembered. One of her neighbors was horse trainer Hack Ross, and her best friend’s father raced trotters and pacers. While walking through the stable area, she once encountered Johnny Longden, the legendary “millionaire jockey,” who in a later race at Bay Meadows guided home his 3000th winner, becoming the first rider in American turf history to claim that milestone.
But there was nothing rural or bucolic about Bill Kyne. His drive and ambition dominated Bay Meadows, and, he, too, entered Dorene’s life. She remembers that he was a busy man who had a nationally known racetrack to operate, but still made time for the neighbors and their kids.
While she was attending Baywood School, her mother wrote a letter to Kyne, voicing concern about the children’s safety when stepping off the yellow school bus, and crossing the street at a corner near the racetrack.
In response to the missive, “Mr. Kyne came to our house,” recalls Pecoraro. “He told my mother, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.’ And he did. One of his own men stood guard at the corner to make sure the children were safe.”
In 1954, the Manor Theater marquee’s lights announced the showing of the film, “Money From Home,” starring Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, the era’s sensational comedy team.
“It was a horse racing movie,” says Pecoraro, who was a teenager working at the local movie house. “I came up with the idea of doing a promotion, dressing up in authentic jockey shirts and caps.”
Dorene knew whom she could count on for help. “I called Bay Meadows and Mr. Kyne answered the phone himself,” she remembers. When ticket holders arrived for the Martin and Lewis show, young employees wearing jockey outfits greeted them.
Bay Meadows was a magnet for Hollywood’s biggest stars, and they often could be seen window shopping in downtown San Mateo.
“Betty Grable was my father’s cousin,” says Pecoraro, referring to the blonde bombshell pin-up girl with the million-dollar legs. Her marriage to Harry James, bandleader and trumpeter supreme, was one of show business’s biggest stories. A giant in the “Big Band” era, Harry James was an ardent racing fan, who owned Thoroughbreds.
Here are some photos of some pretty large abalones.
The largest ever recorded was 12 5/16″ caught by John Pepper. He’s pictured here……he kinda looks like church people……don’t be fooled.
It contained a chunk of meat that was over 6 lbs after the guts were removed.
My brother-in-law Joe Brennan, worked for the Academy of Sciences of San Francisco at the time John caught that ab and arranged the press release at the ’round-about’ at the San Francisco Aquarium.
It was quite an event (in the abalone world anyway).
I asked John what he was going to do with the meat. He wasn’t sure at the time. My thought was to donate a cubic inch of the meat to the Academy………..enough for all the DNA stuff they would ever need. I thought that was pretty big of me.
And, with the rest of it, I suggested a select few of us would have an ab feed-extraordinaire, get “—-faced” on rum and smoke some damn fine stogies and dance around the fire naked.
The Academy got all but the shell.
You’ll have to wait (at some point) for Gary Larsen to let us know what became of that world class piece of meat.
………..Collin
And here’s some more discussion about big abs.
To: Frank AirstreamRV* Celestre and Collin Tiura,
Frank,
Here’s some Ab photos to enjoy. My buddy Reggie was a commercial ab diver in Santa Barbara in the 1970s.
some ab pictures. the diver sitting with the ab was my first tender when i was commercial diving. he still dives for urchins. the other pictures are of some nice shells
Come join us at our annual Abalone Fest on for Memorial Day at Salt Point, CA, just south of Gualala.
Hi Reg
Thought you’d find these interesting. Buzz Owens is an old codger lives in Gualala and has THE world’s most extensive collection of abalone His specialty is hybrids and he has written about them in addition to the large reds. He dove commercially a few years in the late fifties, mostly to collect shells and expand his contacts. Pretty nutty, but a true source of info about abs.
My shell is 293 millimeters and sits in there with a large group between 290mm and 295mm. It weighed 11 pounds in the shell. Found it at Pt Purisima on 5/22/1997, the day before the closure began. Talk a bout saving the best for last! You’d think I’da smiled a little bit for the camera.
Sounds like the wind swell is up maybe there’ll be something today.
Marsh
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Want to see bigger images of Collin’s pix? Please click here
I look at many historical photos of the Coastside, including the beautiful beaches. After awhile I can’t help but notice that the beaches have changed dramatically. Most of us have no idea how much bigger the beach at El Granada was in the 1920s, or how many rock arches and caves were once part of the scenery at Moss Beach. Sand dunes covered Miramar Beach and there were nice little beaches at Princeton, too.
When did the change begin? The photos seem to say it began in the late 1920s, 1930s. That made me wonder about the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge was built in the late 1930s. Could it have had something to do with the loss of sand on the San Mateo coastline?
John Vonderlin spends a lot of time exploring the remote South Coast beaches, many of them inaccessible, taking photographs, revering and studying the beauty that he finds.
I asked John, could construction of the Golden Gate Bridge have affected the San Mateo County beaches?
John said: I’m no expert, but here’s what I think is going on with the sand disappearing from our local beaches. First, I don’t think the Golden Gate Bridge has had a significant effect on our beaches. The tower foundations aren’t big enough to interfere seriously with the transport of sediment out of the Bay and possibly into the littoral cell south of the Golden Gate Channel.
Whatever part of that sediment that gets swept up in the Longshore current, along with the sand brought down by our local creeks or eroded from the many local wave-battered sandstone cliffs, ends up feeding and sustaining our beaches.
Dams were probably the biggest factor in the disappearance of beaches, perhaps not here so much as other places. The impoundment of sediment behind the dam on the bottoms of gradually growing more shallow lakes and ponds, surely has had an effect hereabouts. But I don’t think they are the main factor. After all, I don’t know of any new local ones being built in a long time, yet the beaches have seriously diminished using the 1972 California Coastal Records Project’s photos as a comparison. In fact, the general trend has been to remove dams in the various coastal watersheds to re-open ther streams for fish migration. Likewise, the friable, easily eroded, sandstone cliffs that contribute so much raw material to our beaches haven’t significantly changed in that timespan.
There is one plausible reason the sediment load carried to the sea from our local watersheds has greatly diminished. And that is environmentalism. Logging has greatly diminished and been forcefully required to improve the watershed protection techniques they employ. Farming is in a similar position as logging is, both as a shrinking business and one that has learned or been required to practice better land stewardship. Based on some of the pictures I’ve taken of turbid runoff entering the ocean from irrigated coastal fields, there is still more that needs to be done.
All in all, erosion control has greatly expanded in almost every aspect of land use in the county, from road building, home construction, and land clearing, to runoff management protocols and wetland restoration or protection projects.
We’re being skewered by our own success. If we prevent sediment from getting in the water flowing to the ocean we can’t expect much in the way of beaches. Unfortunately, I think it is a classic Hobbesian choice situation( i.e. your money or your life) where the Golden Age of San Mateo beaches has come and gone and there’s not much we should do about bringing it back. Enjoy. John
Burt and I arrived at Michael Power’s unique homestead in Miramar Beach about 2:30 in the afternoon. We missed the big kayaking event but here’s what we did see:
Parked at the end of the road was this really cool “ride.” Nobody knew what the make was. I suspect the South City Blues Band drove over the hill in it.
We saw the international flags and a kayak parked by the side of the road. The sound of the South City Blues Band drew us into the courtyard of Michael’s place, first walking through an unusual walkway studded with enormous rocks and carved, the work done by Michael & his friends. And however “down” Burt and I might have been before we arrived–that feeling was wiped away as we transformed to another time and place. Pete Douglas, of the Bach Society down the road, burned up the dance floor with Miramar chanteuse Susan Pate.
But the star was Michael Powers himself; scroll down to watch the “proverbially wild man.” I also posted a little quicktime video below.
Below, Miramar Beach photographer and “Tsunami Ranger” Michael Powers and wife Nani show us their high energy. They also had to dance because it was a freezing cold day!
