One-hundred-years-of-solitude ago Santa Cruz was much like the weekend refuge Napa Valley has become. And so in 1916 a Berkeley residents Sarah and Warren Gregory decided to buy a charming old country house in the foothills above the town.  The house, in South Pacific Railroad colors — red, green and gold — had been built in 1890’s on a green hillside with a creek running underneath.

They had four children and imagined that each would have their own house.  Sarah hired a friend of hers, the renown Berkeley architect, William Wurster, who was well known to build “frames for living: spaces that could be fully transformed by the occupant to meet their needs and desires, well-designed canvases for homemaking.” Wurster designed the  houses, building them just far enough from each other so that each enjoyed privacy, and so gave life to a fairytale lifestyle for families to enjoy warm summer evenings.

In the 1920’s and 1930’ the Gregory compound attracted Sarah’s friends in the Arts and Crafts Movement, who built their own houses nearby. The result became an artistic and intellectual summer colony, filled with young families. In late 30’s Sara, who had become something of a matriarch, decided that with the increasing number of children a pool was in order. And so, between all the houses, in the middle of the forest, at the geographic center of the compound, she commissioned the building of an aqua blue, clear swimming pool.

Over the years the pool, an attraction for life both wild and demure, has been the setting for various stories and myths.  One story involves a famous neighbor, Alfred Hitchcock, the great American master of suspense, who lived nearby and did a considerable amount of entertaining.  But he didn’t have a pool and, so the story goes, one extremely hot Sunday afternoon, his guest Ingrid Bergman came to the Gregory’s hoping to go for a swim in the aqua blue, clear pool. You will remember that Ingrid Bergman starred in several Hitchcock films, not least Notorious, which among buffs is always noted for one of the most erotic kissing scenes in cinema history.

Nevertheless, on this particular afternoon her desire was refused; someone raised the question of liability. One can imagine she must not have been amused. Nor Sir Alfred. Not long afterward, “Hitch” sold the house — to an alleged Mafioso who didn’t need a pool so much as a helicopter-landing pad.

The Gregory family still enjoys summers there. I visited not long ago,  joining my friend Sydney, a 4th generation member of the family, along with her daughter Natalie, the 5th generation to enjoy warm summer evenings next to an aqua blue, clear swimming pool.

“Give a girl the right shoes,” Marilyn Monroe once said, “and she can conquer the world.”

Here is my story about shoes.
When I first came to San Francisco, I arrived on a one-way ticket. My plan was to continue on to Brazil; Rio De Janeiro was on my mind then, which is it’s own story.

Nevertheless I linger in San Francisco, I rent a place on 3rd Street and Stillman, above a bike messenger station, which was the perfect metaphor in my life, because I was looking everywhere for a message to tell me whether I should stay, or go on, or find a way back to Europe.

One day I went window shopping and ended up in a shoe boutique off Union Square. The salesman was a very nice gentleman who asked me in passing about where I was from and other details of my ‘foreign-ness.’ I was more interested in talking about shoes but I politely answered all his questions, and eventually found what I wanted. These are the shoes of my dreams, I thought. Delicate leather straps, soft metallic leather and the most glamorous heels. Beautiful beyond belief.

Out of one ear I heard the salesman joking. “Yes, they are beautiful and about the same price as an airplane ticket to go back home. So now it’s your decision between one or the other. Which will it be?”

I didn’t give it much thought. I put the shoes back in the box, handed them to the gentleman and said, “I’ll take them.”

And that’s how I came to stay in San Francisco. It became my Land of Oz. And my “ruby slippers” had taken me to where I already was….

Bespoke, as a verb, is the past form of bespeak, which is an old-fashioned word, from the British, that means to suggest.  To give evidence of.  But the word is also an adjective that means to make something to the buyer’s specification. To customize.

And so for example, a group of London taylors in Mayfair, known as the Savile Row Bespoke Association, has tried to set standards for the making and selling of apparel to secure a certain trademark.

The standards are basically these : Hand work used almost entirely on all garments, including the “individual cut of a paper pattern” and Personal service, such as qualified advice, a large selection of fabrics, or the keeping of all records for future orders.

Bespoke is also the name of an interesting store up in the Sierra, in Truckee.

And so you come to this little town and here is this little store, which has an ‘old soul’ according to the proprietor,  I am always drawn to that notion of an ‘old soul’.  When you see a child and you say: he or she is an old soul, you want to spend time with that child. And that’s how you feel in this store. You want to find a story behind the objects, in the notebooks, ceramics and clothes, which are all made by hand by an artist or by a small company.

Isn’t there a special pride when you buy an object and you know it was made by hand locally?

You can also find some antiques like an old typewriter that is actually used for typing the labels. And the books that bring you right back to your childhood, all printed in USA or Sweden.

But my attention was focused on some unique plump pillows with a hand-embellished extra stitch. They are a labor of love and a unique work of art, crafted by the store’s owner, Heather River. Heather carefully chooses the fabrics with geometric abstract design.

They remind me of Kazimir Malevich suprematism paintings, like the red crosses on the blue background. To the beautiful abstract design of this organic cotton she adds a clever artistic surprise: an extra stitch to emphasize the shape of the cross. The designs also include abstract lines portraying churches and houses on the top of hills.

That image, along with the store and the town and the river took me right back home.

My questions to Heather:

Who inspires you the most?

I am inspired by a combination of many elements.  From antique stores to small boutiques, blogs to good coffee shops, old barns to rusty tools, inspiration comes to me in many different forms.  What inspires me about other artists is how they can a seemingly ordinary object and surprise me with something simplistically fantastic.

What is your favorite place in Bay Area?

My favorite place to visit in the Bay Area… hum that is hard there are so many. One of my favorite places to visit in the Bay Area is Paxton Gate. I love the way they display everything as though you are sifting through a museum of objects. I also adore eatting at Tacu Baya in Berkeley… the enchiladas are incredible!

What was the last great object that you found or that was given to you?

One of the most amazing things about having my shop is that people really connect with all of the “old” things I have. Often wives are ready to leave before their husbands who find my old tool and typewritter collections facinating to say the least. I have had perfect strangers give me family heirlooms because they know I will cherish and keep them “safe”  in my shop. The last object that was given to me was an amazing old short hand dictionary. A man just walked in to my shop told me he had been in the week prior and realized he had something I would really like. It was a wonderful surprise.

Where would you go if you had to leave right tonight to an unexpected vacation?

A train ride across Europe, stopping at all the small towns and villages, eating delectables, and drinking amazing espresso with my son, Husband, and dachshund Lulu.

The latest fun thing you did?

Sitting on the shore of Lake Tahoe all day for my birthday with friends, fresh fruit, and sandy kids.

Years ago, as an art history student, I used to spend long, languorous summers restoring frescos on the walls of centuries old churches. The sensible touch was all important. You had to be very careful not to tap too hard with your little scalpel, or brush the plaster too vigorously.  The work was all about precision, patience and taking pleasure in revealing and rediscovering…..

Which brings to mind the work of two major American artists, David Ireland and Ann Hamilton and their transformational art at the Headlands Center for the Arts located at Ft. Berry in the Marin headlands. These white painted army barracks, built in 1907, have been changed into an unexpected fine art.

Late conceptual artist David Ireland and his crew stripped  the military architectural structure down to expose historical layers, sandblasted the paint off the stamped-tin ceilings, pillars and walls. Using sandpaper and solvents they picked the paint off the beautiful stairwell, railings, and banisters. They stripped walls down to the original plaster and baseboards to their original wood. They sandblasted through layers and layers of color, stopping at the rich greens and ochres that are now visible.   Ireland’s work reminds me of how age sandblasts through the layers of memory: the most subtle smells from childhood. You travel to the past from one exposed level of paint to another.

I was very fortunate to get to know David Ireland  and to be invited to his home on Capp street while he was still alive. He was tall, with the white hair and he had a look from the past.He told me once that he use to have an African safari store, he looked like he could be safari guide or archeologist. David Ireland was an explorer, treating his home as an archaeological side, always trying to find secret of the past,taking pleasure in revealing and rediscovering…..

It is good to know that his San Francisco home on 500 Capp Street will reopen next year.

The ghost towns in California are all but gone.  Here and there you still find remnants in the gold country, a few dusty streets and empty houses, or over the border in Nevada.  And for a moment you can still imagine what it must have been like, and even the romantic notions people must have had about living in such a place, and the promise of the coast in the far distance.

I have been fascinated with this part of San Francisco for years. It is a largely unknown ghost town in the very middle of the city.

You may remember that the city’s origins in the 1850s involved shipbuilding, much of which was centered in this area. It was a happening industrial spot that gradually extended to Dog Patch and parts of Potrero Hill.  And up until 40 years ago, Pier 70 bustled. I stand in the shadows and imagine life in the warehouse, the sound of the machinery and loud conversations. I am standing where thousands of workers clocked in each day and where many of the nation’s battleships were built, christened and launched.
Union Works Machine Shop, which later become Bethlehem Steel, thrived here. Their work force peaked in 1945 at around 25,000 workers.

Fencing, graffiti tagged, and riddled with broken windows, now off limits, vacant, surrounds most of these buildings.
Looking at the architecture that was once so magnificent, the industrial power of the machine age, it all makes me think how this empty place becomes anything your imagination takes you to. For example, the Union Works Power house reminds me of an old-fashioned dance hall with a big crystal chandelier. Such is the nature of haunted places.

But there is another gift here. The front door is a visual gift for admirers of the bohemian street artist, Hugh Leeman. He pained a mural, a portrait of “Benz”. It adds to the artistic value to my ghost town.  Remember also that this was one of the settings used by Alfred Hitchcock for Vertigo.
The Bethlehem Steel Office Building, designed in 1917 by San Francisco architect Fredrick H. Meyer, was used in the opening scene, where James Stewart meets an old friend and Hitchcock in his cameo is one of the passersby.

Yes, ghost town, street art, classic movies, machine-age era architecture and emptiness itself, meet here on Pier 70.

Big table, big white table cloth. Fresh flowers, hand-picked lettuce and tomatoes, along with a crowd of winemakers, photographers, builders, artists, chefs and kids—always lots of kids running around, darting between the persimmon trees and apple trees, and through the herb and vegetable garden that my friend Madeleine tends lovingly.

Madeleine is a graphic designer, originally from the midwest; Thomas, a photographer, moved to California years ago from Germany. They found this farm with the white rustic house, reminiscent of a fairytale book illustration, surrounded by the rolling hills of western Marin. Seven years ago they rebuilt the old barn which now holds a lofty studio that serves as Thomas’ photo atelier or, sometimes, just a place for great parties.

The property became a weekend refuge and also the place where the couple celebrate the seasons. On the Fourth of July, the big table stands in the front of the house, or sometimes next to the herb beds along the back pasture fence. I never know who will be attending, but it’s always an interesting and fun day, sitting under the willow trees, enjoying scenery and the particular light of this little coastal area in Marin County.

On Thanksgiving, the big table sits in the kitchen next to an old wood burning stove. Again, friends gather and enjoy the coziness of the farmhouse, aromas from whatever is bubbling on the stove and watching Madeleine transform flour, butter, fruit and many more ingredients into sweet pies and savory dishes.

Thomas and Madeleine share their love for celebrating seasons, food and nature with their friends and extended family. And what is better part of life than a big table — full of food shared in the midst of stories and opinions and laughter, and if somebody needs compassion, they can get that too….

Photo by Thomas Heinser

I am ever in search of Shangri-La. And over the years I have found a few places that have some special quality — a particular view, a scent, the sensation of being in this mountain range or that forest or along this beach.  But if you ask, ‘but where is the one place you have been that suggests Shangri-La?  I can only say that it’s a place on the top of the world.

In fact, if this were in Greece, you would assume this must have been a spot where Zeus hosted parties for the Gods — since it’s close to Poseidon’s ocean and Apollo’s light….But it’s not in Greece; it’s in Big Sur, overlooking a particularly striking part of the Pacific Coast. It’s where vertical meets horizontal.  Between jagged mountain ridges and the long smooth curve of the earth. A perfect place, if there ever was, where Oscar-winning cinematographer and his wife, a novelist (her new novel, Our Lady of West Hollywood) find refuge from their busy Hollywood life.

For Vilmos, cinematographer for films such as Close Encounters of the Third Kind, The Bonfire of the Vanities, Deer Hunter, Deliverance, Black Dahlia and many more, this is the ultimate ‘set’, more compelling, more beautiful than whatever a scriptwriter can imagine.

It is a true refuge for both.  Here, Susan gardens, cooks, writes and receives lucky quests, who enjoy a pool and hot tub, and

the dramatic vista.  It’s a completely rejuvenating and revitalizing place. When you leave, it is with regret, of course, but also the feeling of the eyes having had their fill and mysteriously, the heart having found its range…

Susan’s new novel: Our Lady of West Hollywood

Flora Grubb Garden is located in the far reaches of San Francisco, off the 3^rd Street corridor in the Bay View district and is created by Flora Grubb, a young woman with an affinity for gardens, who set out to create this new ‘rustic urban’ ambiance. Reminds me of a trendy spot in Amsterdam, nested in what the Jordaan neghborhood has become.

At Flora Grubb Gardens you find colorful chairs and tables stored in Shakers tradition hang on the wall, suggesting the elements of a David Hockney painting. Flowers, palm trees, Japanese maples, shrubs, grass thrive and in the most beautiful pots. But here plants do not live just in artisan pots; you will be wonderfully surprised when you stumble on an old Edsel car overgrown with succulents and grasses.  And then a hanging bicycle giving a home to air plants.

Among my favorite things are the vertical succulent gardens, a living art gallery, where the art does not smell like oil and acrylic paints but has the sweet natural smell of the plants.

To make life even more perfect you want to sit down with a cup of espresso topped with a heart or leaf design and enjoy this perfection of the garden. The local coffee-roasting company Ritual has a café right there in the garden.

I’ve been invited to visit Oliver Ranch a couple of times over the years; it is always a different experience, and yet the same sculptures, the same Northern California rolling hills, the same native oaks, never changing, there for centuries. But then on a long walk through the land you forget the sameness; suddenly, you find yourself in front of these sculptures that seem unseen, that always offer a fresh revelation.  And like the oaks and the hills they make you feel they have been there for centuries, not a mere 20 years.

The artists who come here, on a creative retreat as it were, must live on the ranch, experience the land and the result is born there on the spot. And it stays there, never to be moved, never to be sold. I deeply admire Steve and Nancy Oliver for that, for their vision and commitment to art and for sharing their collection with others.

All 18 installations on the land are poetic. They each tell a story, against the rhythm of the trees and hills around them. From a footprint in Miroslaw Balka’s childhood home in Poland, to Bruce Newman’s staircase sculpture….

And there is Ann Hamilton‘s Tower, where commissioned dance, poetry, theatre, and music performances take place. The Tower goes almost as far into the earth as it does into the air, with concrete piers driven deep into the ground and a large, thick concrete pad for the tower to rest upon. It’s open to the sky at the top, with a water cistern at the base.

I especially love Roger Barry’s steel bridge. On the summer and winter solstices, the shadow cast on the ground is only from its respective arch. On the spring and autumnal equinoxes, the shadow cast is exactly split by a strip of light that comes down through the center of the arch. The accuracy of this shadow split by the light is within one millimeter.

On the hike thru the hills you see other impressive sculptures by famous artists like Martin Puryear, Richard Serra, Terry Allen, Ellen Driscoll, Bill Fontana, Kristin Jones and Andrew Ginzel, Andy Goldsworthy, Dennis Leon, Jim Melchert, Fred Sandback, Judith Shea, Robert Stackhouse and Ursula Von Rydingsvard.

Artists invited to the ranch live in a studio designed by Jim Jennings. The studio is actually a pair of residential units framed by two concrete walls that provide an elongated surface on which David  Rabinowitch has carved an intricate design — in dialogue with Jennings’s architecture The two seemingly parallel poured-in-place concrete walls cut through the hill.  Whenever I am there I think how this would make such a perfect refuge.

These days particularly, although I cannot possibly explain it to you, I am always returning to my home in the village of the Nine Houses. And always I am returning to this photo, which I took on a recent visit as a way to remind myself. The flowers makes me think of summer and good smells. Incidentally, the little niche was made for saints. Almost every house has such a place. Most of the time the figure is Mary, draped in her blue coat, our sublime mother and protector. In the beginning, I thought I must do that too.  I began looking in flea markets, thinking she might appear among someone’s forgotten momentos.  But then one day I walked into a little gallery in Gradz, Austria, and there was this vase. Very heavy, crusty and old looking, made of cement; the top is finished with a beautifully painted and glazed white and blue flower motif. Two extremes that attract. I think of it as Mary in the abstract. Mary in all of her alchemy. Mary as the source of fresh water, beauty and divine magic.