San Francisco The City of Heart
- celestialcreationsXI
- Mar 22
- 5 min read
I knew I had arrived to my city by the bay as I stepped on to the escalator at the Union/Civic Bart Station and was elevated into the bright yellow Californian sunlight, only to be spit out on Market St. The air had been drier since I had deplaned, but I hadn’t arrived to the city yet. As I looked up towards that light I laughed; I could see the drips of who knows what streaming down the steps and sides of the escalator and the smell of urine infiltrate my nostrils. I had made it to the gritty city that I love so much!!
This wasn’t my first pilgrimage back home, and coming directly from the Northwest the stark contrast was hard to miss. The Northwest can boast its air is damper, the streets cleaner, and the overall attitude subdue possibly by the constant scattered showers to be expected. The golden state’s city by the bay however had a bustle about it that sparkled with life. Perhaps it was only the cables humming with continuous energy overhead, the glistening refracted quartz in the sidewalks, or the steady flow of traffic that seemed to always know where to go, but I was back home and all the sights, sound and smells were welcomed regardless. I had come to San Francisco to reclaim my life as my own.
Stepping off the UN/Civic Bart escalator heading up Market St. I accidently happened upon the lady I had been hoping to see. Seeing the Triple Plaza gates open I knew this was my chance not only to cut over to Mission St., my desired street to travel, but also see the great Venus mirror statue nestled amongst three towering apartment buildings creating a garden plaza perfect for a moment of peace.
Michael Angelo is known to have spoken about releasing the sculpture David from its icy stone tomb. This concept is scattered all over Venus’ Garden; from stacked glass exposing Greek gods, to boulders of marble with only-started statues peering out. Michael Angelo’s words are brought to life. A few steps across this urban garden reflects the true artistic nature of the city that meld me. A solid reminder of why I feel so drawn and attached to the arts. The city I came from has dedicated itself to optical illusions and the experience of art in the everyday. No wonder I feel the sky is the limit in life. My city by the bay brought dreams to reality in unexpected corners. A lesson that continuously guides me as an artist, a mother and human on this earth.
Feeling the heat of the city, I traveled just a few more feet down and around the corner to find a nosh that cannot be passed up by any traveler. Having had my fair share of these delectable treats throughout my childhood, the Northwest cannot compare, and probably shouldn’t. The ever-succulent Mission St. Super Burrito is a local meal that is easy to overlook, but must be experienced. Luckily for me, Street Taco’s was right across from my lodgings at the Ram’s Inn, a quant Edwardian hostel turned hotel. With a quick check in and climb to my breath-taking views, third floor corner room I was ready to venture further into my city of art.
There are only a handful of acclaimed fine artist that I truly admire and San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art has exhibited two of them whilst visiting. My last pilgrimage back to my city I visited with Frida Kahlo, but this fine Free Thursday Admittance I experienced Yayoi Kusama and her latest instillations and sculptures. Both Kahlo and Kusama know what true suffering is, and as a kindred spirit experiencing their gifts after learning about them in school, it is an honor. This rich background of colorful culture that has painted me a riot of West Coast Weird. Sparked with a sense of irony as I spun in an array of colorful refracted circles floating in a dark chasm Yayoi Kusama entitled “Dreaming of Earth’s Sphericity I Would Offer My Love.” The perfect instillation in such a city. I felt deep connection basking in the enormous love that Kusama poured out in Aspiring to Pumpkin’s Love, the Love in my Heart, 2023 pumpkin sculpture. Watching as people came to see the gourds I was filled with a sense of humility and gratitude for my international cradle city. Art was part of the culture, not just something to see.
A delicious gourmet hamburger and French fries at the MoMA’s Grace, and I was on my way down Market St. to the historical Golden Gate Theatre. Gathering in front of the theatre elated to see San Francisco’s production of the longest playing Broadway revival, Chicago.
Walking into the lobby of the historical Golden Gate theatre brought back the illustrious Victorian era with the ornate molding that lined the walls and ceiling. The Carpet was a riot of red and gold that brought warmth and peace to an otherwise electric crowd. Seated in the Orchestra section towards the back, the performers razzle dazzled every scene as we collectively remembered and reflected on how relevant this Musical remains.
Overjoyed and enthusiastic from all of the seductive comedic songs, I was happy to retire to my hotel. Grabbing an Uber amongst a congested sidewalk with others waiting for Ubers a deep sense of belonging beamed through the night. Overhearing excited friendly conversations, the city life that I always saw for myself materialized before my eyes, I was living the life I had imagined for myself as a child. Riding back to my hotel, I knew my next day at the hotel was going to be filled with inspiring paintings of color and jazz.
With a rejuvenating sleep in the most comfortable hotel bed, I awoke before the city and sunrise. Peering over the city building looking at the colors in the skyline, I was touched and felt a peace that can only be appreciated amongst such bustle. I sipped my coffee slowly as I watched the sun come up and pedestrians begin to emerge. My city had poured into me the inspiration and artistic verve I had always associated with San Francisco. I was happy to return back to the Pacific Northwest, but my City by the Bay, where I left my heart, would call me back to reconnect with that little girl who’s traveled so far.
Comentarios