the book can be previewed and purchased here.

Open

selections from a b…

By Christian Svanes …

book preview

and more information, such as additional pictures, is available here.

just before new year’s, we left for the salton sea, then anza borrego and borrego springs.

from there, we drove east to tucson, returning to los angeles a few days later.

this is a scene from the last night, driving back towards los angeles in the twilight, we had just crossed the border between arizona and california.

a little film that i made….

the twitter film (racing north, chased by tweets, chasing tweets)

a year ago today, i found myself in an anonymous hotel room on the outskirts of chicago, the unintended victim of a technical problem with my connecting flight to los angeles – a flight that would never leave chicago o’hare. i had been flying in from copenhagen, after having spent much of the second half of 2007 in denmark and the south of france while working as a production designer on a feature film.

a lot has happened since that day.

i eventually made it to los angeles, albeit 48 hours late.

a. and i took an amazing holiday to a secret location – lavishing in the extravagance of having four days entirely to ourselves.

shortly thereafter, we flew north to san francisco, to attend a.’s office holiday party (the same party that we are going to attend tonight)… a year ago, that party was fun, frivolous, there was much optimism in the air. the company was poised to open a second office in a major market, and was still bringing in new people to take on an ever-expanding roster of clients. a year later, the same company has endured lay-offs while its resources have been stretched thin in this ever-collapsing economy.

in the year that has passed, we rented an additional apartment in san francisco, starting in february, so that a. could concentrate more effectively on her clients that are based in northern california. we started again a life of dividing our time between two homes in two different cities.

we’ve traveled a lot, with very likely at least fifty flights between the two of us between san francisco and los angeles.

we made new friends from our new part-time life in san francisco, expats from paris, who became our steady dining companions and hiking companions. a year later, we will see them again this weekend, but now they are guests to san francisco as they’ve recently moved to manhattan.

down south, we’ve become closer to our friends in los angeles, with the circle of friends ever expanding. it has been a privilege to get to know these very special people.

in the mean time, it has been difficult to bridge the distance between our life here in california and the life that we had in copenhagen and norway. while we had the pleasure of taking another holiday at the family summerhouse in brekkestø in southern norway, and it was amazing to spend time with friends and family, we missed out on chances to see other friends. and, in living over in california, we missed out on many of the daily pleasures and revelations that used to be such a vital part of our life in copenhagen and scandinavia.

to stay in touch with friends in scandinavia is not difficult if it is gauged by intention, but if one uses deeds and actions as the standard by which one measures commitment, then i have failed, to a certain degree, and by extension, i have failed these friends. most friendships are built to last, but there are not many relationships that can endure prolonged neglect. it is something that i hope to improve upon in the new year.

in the last year, friends of ours in europe as well as the united states have become engaged, some of our friends have become pregnant, some have given birth, we met some of our friend’s babies for the first time. we’ve been to a wedding between two 60 year olds, and met an elderly couple who were once high school sweethearts, then spent the next 50 years with no contact to each other, then in the autumn years of their lives, both of them having been widowed, they met again, less than a year ago and now they are married. an amazing story of renewal, fortitude and passion finally requited. at a party in sonoma, we watched the two of them dance with each other late into evening and thought to ourselves that this was something to aspire to.

we’ve been to many birthday parties. we’ve witnessed the vagaries of sickness and disease exact their price on the bodies of our friends, we’ve listen to our friends’ hardships and testified to their admirable endurance. there have been family dramas and family successes. i’m grateful that my immediate family is still here with me and that a.’s immediate family is still here with her.

we’ve been to our share of funerals and anniversaries of the passings of loved ones. i still remember vividly being with my grandmother on the last day of her life, watching her struggle to breath, talking to her as she lay in her deathbed, and then i buried her many days later and traversed the outer reaches of the sadness that my father most have felt for losing his mother.

yet the funeral brought the family closer together and in the aftermath of her passing, i can now say that i have more contact with all of my brothers than i have had in years past.

in the last year, since that accidental day in chicago, we’ve seen companies fall, we’ve heard stories of friends’ lose their jobs, and some of the circumstances have been heartless and vulgar. we’ve seen friends start new companies, receive recognition for their efforts, gain access through the doors opened by success and hard work.

i’ve seen stores open and others close. just as i was getting used to living one block away from abbot kinney boulevard, stroh’s finally says good-bye after all of these years. just as i was getting used to the idea that there was nothing to see on rose avenue, a wine bar opens that later becomes a staple of my social life. my god, even whole foods has come to venice. is this good? in small doses, yes.

in the mean time, the work goes on.

it has been an amazing time to be in the united states, to be in california. i’ve witnessed something that i thought i would never see, a change in government that i thought was not quite possible, and i am ever more optimistic that this country might one day join the rest of the world instead of standing apart from it, for better or worse.

in california, i still find myself walking outside the door from our home, stepping into the cool morning air, and having my breath taken away by the sight of the ocean, the mountains, the beauty of the afternoon light and the long shadows that it casts. the simple things that make my heart sing.

now i am one year older, one year closer to forty years old. the bells that ring in the death knells seem louder with every month, though i am hopeful that i have many many more years upon this planet.

i am ecstatic that i have a. in my life, that i have my friends, that i have new friends, that i still have my health, my optimism, my curiosity.

thank you, life, for giving me these things, for your generosity.

oh how i look forward to the year to come!

standing in line, waiting to be frisked, one could hear the reverb of the guitars playing on the main stage. the raconteurs, it sounds like the raconteurs.

perhaps i regretted not arriving at the venue sooner, so that i could catch several acts that performed earlier in the day, but the experience of walking onto the grass of the polo field as the sun sets brings out the majestic qualities of the environment. the nearby san jacinto mountains are reduced to serrated violet-hued silhouettes, the air cools, the fan palms sway, objects are incandescent in the twilight, even the skin glows.

there are thousands upon thousands of people milling about, moving from one stage to another. we are not at burning man. nor are we witnessing a stadium concert. it’s somewhere in between. white marquees tents with jutting peaks form villages along the sides of the field, and there are smaller tents in the middle of the grounds. there are massive towers of speakers and amplifiers, and placed throughout the venue are large works of installation art.

it’s a carnival, like the millions of carnivals that precede us, the carnivals that go back a thousand years, further back. it brings us together. we trade our wares, we swap stories, eyes meet as we sit by the campfire, by the burning light, we beat our drums and listen to the songs of others. this is no different.

a thousand clans, a thousand tribes, convene in this place, each with their own sense of hierarchy and their own distinctive markings. and then there are the rare free radicals bouncing off the walls.

some of our friends have backstage passes and v.i.p. wristbands, granting them access to the areas that hide behind the chain linked fences which are covered in green vinyl. i’m happy to be out amongst the proletariat, the ignorant and the unsanctioned.

while making our way to one of the smaller venues, we pass a wrought iron sunflower sculpture that spits fire. we find aphex twin in the middle of a set. it’s not a rave, it’s not really a party, but there is ritual involved. an audition of sorts. it’s mutual – the festival goers perform for the performer, and, in turn, richard d. james performs for them. a troubadour for the troubadours.

part two

there was a time when i couldn’t do anything by myself without listening to the verve’s two signature works, northern soul and urban hymns. these albums had a sound that contained a self-indulgent, melancholy-infused frustration to their slightly bipolar rebellious streak that appealed to the pathetically restrained kid in me – a kid who was just out of school and looking for an honest way forward.

before he started his barefoot dance onto a path towards drug-free self-realisation through world peace and groovy beats, richard ashcroft penned songs that were poetic and angry, that youthful urgency forming a woozy push and pull that i had a hard time turning away from.

there they were again, the verve on stage on friday night at coachella. long after sunset, as the lights turned for a moment on the audience while a propeller plane flew overhead, its fuselage and wings converted into a shimmering billboard that evoked a sight from blade runner, richard ashcroft grabbed the microphone and started to sing.

they were not masterful but it was good to see them. i welcomed the opportunity to shout along to their music again.

long after the roadies for portishead had packed their gear and prince had outstayed his final note, on a saturday night heading into sunday morning, we stood outside the palm springs museum of art waiting to be picked up by a shuttle bus.

it is an odd experience, standing in line to be ushered to a secret location so that we can attend an “exclusive” invite-only event. actually, it’s pretty stupid. this is not how the ‘party elite’ do things in copenhagen and berlin and it goes against a lot of the things that are important to me.

but we are in california now – and apparently, you can’t throw a decent party without making it invite-only and then restricting the list to young celebrities of the day and the industry types who want to socialize with them (or at least be near them). then there are the likes of myself (and a few others in our gang of friends), who find themselves populating the outskirts of this particular subculture.

the party was noisy and well attended. no complaints here. it almost felt european. there was dancing, there was music: pedro winter (busy p), whom i recognized from the copenhagen daze, worked the turntables. there was a lovely pool gleaming in the electric chill of the desert air, and most amusingly, the party took place in frank sinatra’s former home. amazing.

apparently, sia furler was among the 200 people loitering about – though i failed to see her, as i also didn’t see m.i.a. (though the dj played paper planes)… it was impossible to miss the shrill-voiced chloe sevigny (who evidently suffers from a staring problem) and the equally shrill behavior of the party’s host, jeremy scott, who pranced around in red spandex bicycle shorts, shirtless beneath a matching bathrobe, his gaunt cranium topped by a dark military squadron leader cap, while he launched himself onto white leather couches and glass coffee tables. thanks for throwing the party, jeremy, but it’s hard to think of you as a bad boy while you perform for the rest of us. jeremy scott wouldn’t just grab your attention, he’d kick at your ankles until you looked his way, making sure you get a good look at one of his emaciated legs perched suggestively on a table.

all for show, one presumes, and it’s just as well. one should not express ingratitude for the generosity of the host and his sponsors, adidas and belvedere vodka – which were in abundant supply. it was brought to my attention that some guy from fight of the concordes was milling about but i wouldn’t have recognized him or anyone else who was young and famous, even if i was sharing one of the many cocktails of the evening with them.

i did recognize anouck lepere, she of the hugo boss deep red campaign, the lean and tall fashion model with the remarkable cheekbones and equally noteworthy eyebrows. i think she changed her wardrobe three or four times during the three hours that i was at the party.

as the evening drew to a close, while waiting for the return shuttle bus, we did forward rolls on the grassy lawn beneath the cool night sky. i watched jane perform a triple roll that landed her in the gutter. she grabbed her shoulder and groaned. moments later we all got back on the bus.