The Lardner Report

Unleash your creative superpowers!

Today’s Pic: A Child’s Moment of Reflection

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(Pic #1) Lily May Schmidt, age 8, from St Cyril of Jerusalem School in Encino, California, pauses to reflect on the souls lost on 9/11. (Photo by Josh Kaplan)

Like so many others who lost friends when the towers fell on September 11, 2001, I thought of them constantly in the days and weeks that followed. Reporting for Fox5 in New York right before that fateful day, I shared on camera time with firefighters, sanitation workers, and Port Authority officers during live shots all over the city for the morning news.  At least 4 of these extraordinary civil servants I knew lost their lives that day. My FDNY buddy Kevin Hannafin lost his brother Tommy in the attack, and remarkably found and walked out of the rubble with his brother’s fire helmet in hand. He told me it was “the proudest day” of his life.

They say “time heals,” but I find it just puts feelings on hold, until something reminds us what’s still really going on inside. Each year on the anniversary of that horrific day, when the country takes a moment to remember, I feel what I am supposed to feel, and shut the door until the next day of remembrance. I worry ambien that I am losing my connection with the victims I knew — and that maybe the horror of that day (and the lessons we learned from it) might be slipping out of my — and public — consciousness.

But last weekend, I got the message I needed to see — when I took a trip to Pepperdine University overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Malibu, California, where each year they honor the victims and emergency responders who died on 9/11, with a daunting display of 2977 flags poised on the school’s majestic hill.

There, amidst the tourists, the Boy Scouts and the biker dudes, I saw this little girl on her knees — praying, alone — with the most loving expression you could imagine on her face. At age 8, Lily May Schmidt wasn’t even born on 9/11/01. But there she was — kneeling — reflecting — on souls she said  she “wanted to pray for.”

That simple image made me realize we haven’t forgotten. And we can count on the likes of Lily May Schmidt to keep us on track: conscious — and compassionate.

(Pic #2) Los Angeles Boy Scout troop members pause amidst the display. (Photo by Josh Kaplan)

 

Urban Underpinnings

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How everyday structures become foundations for awesome abstract art.

Malibu Chic: Nature's Chemical Abstraction

I’m always impressed by those moments of discovery—when something functional becomes something artful—and smacks me in the face with its beauty. Here are a few shots capturing those moments – from recent trips to Nashville, Tennessee, Malibu, California, and Seattle, Washington.

Below, I zoomed in on a weathered copper panel from the foundation of this stunning Malibu coast home. Oxidation leads to a killer turquoise patina.

Sea Green: Close-up

On that same stretch of beach– underneath the storied multi-million dollar homes — you can see the raw structural supports  — wooden beams which look like precarious piles of Pick Up Stix poised for a fall. But in their own way, they are pure design.

Geometric Underbelly

"Our contractor was A.D.D."

Along the way, I discovered a small, older, somewhat neglected home with the most gorgeous peeling seafoam paint. It was so wind-beaten that it revealed an undercoat of textured gray wood.

"A Malibu Peel"

On Main Street, in Franklin Tennessee, right outside Nashville, I walked into a restaurant called “Red Pony” and grabbed the iphone to capture what can only be described as a couple of true surrealist compositions, revealing exposed brick and cracked cement walls. When I told the hostess I loved the look — she said — “Thank you. Most people can’t handle it.”

Then I ran across the work of a primitive American painter named Kelly Moore.  See if you see what I see (below). Her red skull makes for a sweet pairing with this new Nashville “brick art.”

Exposing brick -- creating art

NOT just another brick in the wall

Primitive painting by Kelly Moore

Up in Seattle, right on the shore of peaceful Lake Washington, the back of street sign caught my eye. It was weathered wood with a figure that reminded me of prehistoric cave paintings. I really love to encounter art in the funkiest places. Send me your discoveries. We’ll compare notes.

Signs of wildlife.