Carlsbad Art and Culture

Ideas are seen in the arrangements of flowers in your neighbor’s yard, in the elegant carve of a balding surfer and in the incoherent rambles of a roadside hobo. In most cases, a thought remains subtle and far from igniting backlash. In other cases, an idea is transformed through forceful and slightly intrusive muscle.

The right to hold opinions without interference is one of our greatest freedoms. It allows for the opportunity to transfer one’s thoughts. It provides a stage to express  emotions. Your content comes from your heart and your medium is your voice, but is the forceful nature of some fair for all? Should your space be invaded by the opinions of others?

Where do you draw the line?

Imagine a place where kids sat on low couches and tapped their feet to  the beats of local bands. Imagine a place where kids skateboarded freely. Imagine a place where kids created in a “honeycomb” of local artists. Imagine a place where kids were encouraged to express their ideas in an inspiring atmosphere. If only a place existed.

AVAILABLE NOW! 2598 State Street
• 9,500 sq. ft.
• High Ceilings
• No residential neighbors
• close to train station

This just might be the perfect location during the perfect time. Carlsbad has seen an interest in local art as of late. The “local” skatepark is on the verge of being replaced by a police training facility and a venue where local bands jam still doesn’t exist. It’s time to shift the primary attention to the youth of our community. Lets give them the location to develop their talents and interests. We found this spot which just might be perfect… ANY TAKERS!

An elderly man awakes to the same buzz he has heard each morning for the past many decades. He yawns as the early morning sun creeps through his dusty blinds. He grabs a framed photo from his bedside table and presses his dry lips against the glass. He slips his wrinkled feet into the grooves of his favorite slippers and he begins his day. His robe, stitched in frayed string, wraps his old body and he stumbles into the hall. The hard wood floor creeks and his bones rattle as the heater automates to a rumble. Cold air blows across his bare head. The house becomes animated with the air of a warm hug. With a cup of fresh coffee in hand, he sits in his chair and begins browsing the morning paper. His lips smack as he mumbles the words off the front page and his fingers twitch. Like he has done each morning since the passing of his wife, he plans his entire day around the smorgasbord of television listings within the day’s paper. He fumbles through the pages, pausing at moments to lick his finger. His brow raises and his jaw drops. Inside the entertainment section lies an empty space where the television listings use to rest. He scans the paper again while birds begin to chirp outside. His head begins to throb and his stomach turns. Again, he searches through the section where his listings have been inserted in the past. With a disgruntled squint, he spots a thin line of text at the bottom of the entertainment back page:

“Due to the current economic situation, we have chosen to eliminate the television schedule from our newspaper. Please go to the following web address for the listing…”

As technology advances, routines change… can you keep up?

My head hangs low as I approach the store-front of a local staple. A slimy sidewalk divides the entrance from the parking lot and I glance skyward. A droopy hand written sign hangs overhead which reads- Going out of business. I peer through the dusty window and realize that, like the VHS tapes that once lined the tall shelves, the sign is also outdated. By the look of the inside, “going” was a few hours ago. The walls are empty and a thick cloud of smoke gathers high against the flaky ceiling. The carpet, which was once a deep red, is scattered with debris and the walls moan like a dilapidated jalopy. Red Carpet Video on Tamarack was once a destination for giggling children and cuddling lovers, but is now just a bunch of memories rolled up in one dirty ‘ole red carpet.

I tap the glass window with my keys and smirk a smile to the former owner. She wipes the sweat from her brow and flings her long brown hair out of her face. I give a wave and she motions to let me in. We exchange laughter though the mood is far from that reaction. As I enter, I reflect on the many evenings in which I wandered the aisles in search of the night’s entertainment. I chuckle at the pranks we played and the stories we told. I remember the customers we watched and the nicknames we gave them. The commotion of crashing wood awakes me from my mental doodles as splinters fling in my direction. A shelf becomes victim of a sledge hammer like the video store was one to the convenience of home delivered DVDs.

I watch two former employees tackle the remaining furniture and shelves. A mess is created when I thought the goal was to clean it, but I can see the frustration in a business deal gone sour with each swing. Like a sneeze in an office, the emotion of the situation is contagious. With a hammer in my hand, I find myslef tossing weight through the air like a wild tomahawk. Cheers erupt with each hole as passers stop and watch.

The night carried on in this fashion until the the moon began to yawn and the stars became sleepy. With nothing more than wood scraps littered along the baseboards, we sat and reflected on the years we spent together, the people we met and the relationships we formed. Though the walls are bare and the shelves are empty, our minds are cluttered with memories that will always bring smiles and laughter.

Out of all the businesses that have come and gone, which ones do you remember? What keeps that memory alive?

A walk to the beach or the local pub is like browsing the thin pages of the North County Times. It’s like wandering down the alleys of the internet and sitting through an onslaught of television commercials. In each case, thoughts present themselves for you to interact with. The time you invest all depends on the message being relayed.

The streets of our village have numerous hot spots where thoughts are frequently exchanged. History splinters with each rusty tack on roadside poles and sleepy store front windows whisper upcoming sales. Use these community bulletin boards to post ideas. When in need, ask your community to come together!

Which messages do you filter and which ones do you absorb?

LOST TURTLE (Turbo)
If you see Turbo, please bring him home!
1024 Knowles Ave., Carlsbad
or call Kristy @ (760) 271-8900

“Come together, right now, over me”