I spent some time last week at LACMA with Christian Marclay’s The Clock—which I’ll write more about after tonight when I spend as much time as possible at the 24-hour screening—and was consistently annoyed by how many people felt perfectly fine to maintain ongoing conversations or take their phones out to text someone in the theater. But, much like most third spaces these days, art museums are not immune to the degrading notion of the social contract.

Since movie theaters re-opened after Covid-19 restrictions were lifted, I’d say about one-third of the films I see have had someone take out a phone for one reason or another during the show. (I will say most of these happen at AMC chain theaters.) This ranges from taking a photo of the screen (mostly the title card) to texting to scrolling a dating app or Instagram. I’ll always react in some ways—a glance to asking politely to saying, Turn your phone off aloud. The responses I get have varied from being ignored to having people tell me to fuck off.

(I was at the AMC Burbank 16 for a movie once and the guy next to me asked a woman in front of him who had been texting for five minutes straight to please put her phone away and she turned around and replied, “You talked all during the previews so why don’t you kiss my ass.” Absolutely bonkers response.)

These aren’t limited to corporate screenings, though. While it’s far less frequent than what happens at a chain like AMC, I’ve seen phones out at screenings for American Cinematheque or even Tarantino’s notoriously anti-phone theaters (the New Beverly and Vista). These people risk being kicked out, or even banned, from theaters just to check their Twitter feed.

Now, part of this could be just screen addiction and the fact humanity seems to have been consumed by an inability to leave the digital world for any meaningful amount of time. But I think one of the consequences of how Covid was both handled and politicized is that the country became divided on whether or not it really gave a shit about anyone else at an individual level. (We know now that any excuses about masks were bullshit as we see ICE agents and cops masked up all the time for their thuggish actions and that the entire conservative and fascist side of the population doesn’t have any central ideology other than to ‘win’ at whatever talking points are dominating the news at any given time.)

The increasing individualism that has been chipping away at how we treat others in social spaces, whatever the root causes may be, are reflective of a growing resentment toward one another while the country we share continues to decay in a storm of corruption, greed, and outright lies by those in positions of power. This is all by design, and sometimes I just want to escape the madness by going to the movies, and now there’s a constant reminder of what is happening in society as a whole.

Beverly and Commonwealth

Hoover and San Marino

I moved recently, and the back door of my new place opens up into a fenced-in parking lot. The fence is chain-link on two sides, and metal bars on the side facing the street. There’s an automatic gate for cars to get in and out. The bars are just far enough apart for small animals to be able to squeeze through.

I say this because, for the past two nights, I’ve been woken up by the shrieks of animals in distress. Last night the identifiable cries of a cat echoed through my apartment at three in the morning. I went out to my stoop to see if something was happening, and the cat kept wailing. After a minute, one came in from the street—the stray that hangs out in our neighborhood that my neighbor Donna sometimes cares for and calls Trashy. I heard no other animal sounds, leading me to believe that a person on the street had been attacking her. She saw me and laid on the ground, keeping her distance.

Tonight, or just now rather—I don’t know if five am qualifies as the night or not—a combination of wails and barking woke me up. Two vague shadows that could have been street dogs or coyotes had a raccoon cornered on Donna’s stoop, the raccoon trying to avoid getting caught, barking in a way I’ve never heard a creature sound. Two sounds came from the raccoon: a violent bark in self-defense and an excruciating cry whenever one of the dogs caught hold of it.

I didn’t know what to do and was frozen watching this animal trying to save itself. The raccoon somehow escaped the stoop and scampered across the lot, climbing the chain-link fence. The dogs followed and were able to climb it for a minute or two. The barking and howling continued but the dogs were not able to keep on the fence and eventually abandoned their attack, leaving the raccoon to try and balance on the top, gravely wounded. It tried to walk, it tried to hang on, it swayed as it attempted to head toward the street, its legs were giving out.

After a few minutes, the silhouette of the injured animal fell to the ground of the alley on the other side of the lot and hobbled into the shadows of the building across the way. I have no clue where the dogs went or how they got in and out of my lot. I am sure the raccoon is dead by now.

It’s just one of those things where like, my new place is a pretty amazing spot to live, but when I initially toured it I did not think to ask, How many nights a week am I going to have to listen to a small animal fight for its life? It’s a harrowing experience, to hear and/or see a living creature being attacked. The echoes of wailing fade but that resonant pain and violence lingers in the air. Nothing is comfortable. My cats are scared, huddled up on the bed.

I can handle many things, but stuff like this really gets to me. I know the way the world works—larger animals attack smaller ones, that’s life, et cetera. But confronting it in reality just reminds me of how we humans choose to do this sort of thing to ourselves. Raccoons and cats are kind of just subjugated to nature’s order, but humanity has invented its way out of that. We aren’t subject to violence, we choose it. I don’t have a great memory, but I’ve seen many forms of brutality—accidental deaths, street fights, drive-by shootings, defenseless beatings, murder—and every scene remains crystal clear in my head. I remember exactly where I was, the time of day, the weather. Even just a proximity to violence leaves a mark.

I don’t know, this post has turned into something else. Truth be told, I just am still stirred from hearing and watching that poor raccoon trying not to be torn to pieces on my neighbor’s steps. A little death in the morning tears a hole in the day, and I’ll just be off-balance for the rest of this one.

We’re having a mayoral election in LA this year and like most of the political world right now, it’s incredibly stupid. It’s another of those popular races that take up the news these days—a progressive democratic socialist, Nithya Raman, against an establishment liberal incumbent, Karen Bass. The establishment does not like this (surprise, surprise). Meanwhile, every time there’s news about this thing, I want to slam my head into the wall in disbelief that Raman isn’t running away with it.

Just today, Bass came out in favor of the potential merger between Paramount and Warner Brothers, even though just yesterday it was reported that the merger would cost Los Angeles over 10,000 total jobs between entertainment and the businesses it supports—around $2.8 billion in the local economy, gone. The Writers Guild immediately issued a statement tearing Bass apart.

There was also a kind of insane warehouse fire in Boyle Heights this year that saw no city declarations for evacuation—only Bass, who spent the first two days of the fire out of the city, telling residents the air was not dangerous. (That ‘safe’ air caused hundreds to suffer health affects directly from exposure.)

Of course, this is all after Bass botched her oversight of the wildfires that burned the Palisades and Altadena to the ground in January of 2025. Los Angeles has also seen cuts to city service budgets in order to give the LAPD more cash. (The LAPD already had an annual budget of over three billion dollars.)

While the criticism could continue, the point is this: All over the United States, in governments local and national alike, establishment democrats are being called out for their decades of stalled policy, lack of ambition, and corporate interests being prioritized over serving the public. What makes me crazy is that the general public is somewhere between fearful of and hateful toward the label of socialism, even if policies like upgrading infrastructure or improving conditions for schools are wildly popular.

Red Scare tactics have proven very successful in the United States, where even ‘liberal’ cities like LA have a substantial population that doesn’t want to lean too far to the left. (What that political ideology actually looks like is beyond me—but I’m pretty sure it’s more in alignment with fascism than humanism.) As conditions continue to rapidly decay while wealth consolidates in the hands of a few, I wonder at what point people will come around to the idea of listening to voices from the left—or if by that time there’ll be anything left to actually govern.

I’ve been to a few art openings recently and I’ve noticed this trend of oversized, low-resolution digital works that were basically just slapped together in Photoshop, printed and hung on name-brand gallery walls. They were aesthetically awful, but came with a multi-page artist statement full of buzz words.

There’s a problem in contemporary art where artist statements become the main focus of a work. Intention and the ability to communicate in a language style that represents intellectualized considerations seems to matter more than how a work actually looks. I’m not trying to advocate for style over substance, but this growing pattern where what someone writes about art against what they actually produce feels like it’s buying in to the capitalist ideology of a class-based society.

I was at a group show last week that was selling the booklet of artist statements for $15, which I thought was crazy. I like conceptual art and there’s certainly plenty of great work in the world produced from it, but I also think that using the concept as a basis for actually showing work is prioritizing the wrong side of the coin.

Yes, everyone has different tastes and there should be an opportunity for every idea to be on display, but it feels increasingly like there’s this undercurrent of MFA-types who are getting away with spending more time indulging in navel gazing than working through the trials of process that end up producing aesthetically pleasing work. (If something being aesthetically repulsive is part of the concept, then that’s fine, but if you simply won’t spend the time to try and make something and just paste bullshit together, that seems cheap.)

It just feels like some artists try to convey they went to an MFA program through how they talk about their work, which buys into the idea you need to go through the institution of higher education to become a gallery artist. It’s very reflective of how a caste system works and I think that should have nothing to do with art. Writing about a piece of art is a fine addendum, but the work should be able to speak for itself.