A Day in Laguna Suitable for Framing

If all of the world went to sleep at night with the sound of the ocean susurrant in our ears, I think a great many of our troubles would go out with the tide, never to return. Audrey Ann Marie Boyle and I joined a group of people, who all have the happy knowledge of being friends, for a weekend in Laguna Beach to see the 53rd Pageant of the Masters and the art exhibits.

It was one of those days that slips into your life like a rare gift, just what you wanted and not to be found again.

The Pageant of the Masters is, as anyone who lives in Southern California can tell you, a tableaux of famous paintings and sculptures, porcelains and enamels, with all of the human beings in the reproductions volunteers from Laguna. Young children start out in the troupe and grow up with it, giving hours to rehearsals and costume fittings, sets and casting.

The technical excellence causes the entire audience to inhale with wonder at each tableau. Through some wizardry, the director and the lighting supervisor and the set painters make the tableaux two dimensional. It is impossible to tell where the real figures stop and the backgrounds begin.

One of the wonders is the superb work of artist David Rymar and Leslie Turnbull and their staff. They reproduce the pictures on canvas, which will back up the actors. This means that they must be able to capture the soft translucence of Renoir and the hard gilt of Cellini equally well. They do.

The festival orchestra adds texture and richness to each picture and manages to remain non-intrusive. It goes from the temple bells and cymbals that surround the Java temple art scenes to the naughty gaiete Parisienne which surrounds the French posters of Jules Cheret. I know that the actors are supported by various braces and stands, but they are so masked that I cannot see them and you won’t either.

Remember the “Swing” by Fragonard, that picture of the young girl in ruffles, lacy pink, a confection of a painting, looking as if it might have been executed in an ice cream and bonbon shop? The girl is at the front of the arc in the swing with her left leg extended. There is not a flicker of movement. If you know how they do it, don’t tell me. It is an evening of magic.

As all fine days are, this one was made richer by the company I was fortunate enough to keep. All of these people, Dorene, Fred, Ann, Barbara and Audrey Ann Marie, are able to give companionship “as a child might bring you apples in her skirt, or in a hat swung from the hand,” as Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote.

Earlier in the day, we spent several hours across Laguna Canyon Road at the Art-A-Fair, an art exhibit in its 20th year that features artists from all over Southern California. On display are oils, water colors, jewelry, sculpture and photography.

Mark Blake, who has been with Art-A-Fair for seven of its 20 years, said that the booths and displays are manned by the artists. The salespeople and those who keep the grounds tidy with brooms and dustpans are also artists.

I bought several photographs by Harry Hisashi Fujimoto because I could not resist them. This graduate of the University of Colorado Marketing School calls his work animal photolosophy . One of the pictures I came home with is of an endearing dachshund with his ears winging out from the side of his head. The top of the mat says, “Come fly with me.”

At the bottom of the mat is written, “If you have the spirit, you don’t need wings to fly.” This little dog has the heart of a lion and the spirit of an eagle and Fujimoto has captured both.

About sleeping where you can hear the surf. It wasn’t just susurrant. It also thundered like a giant cathedral pipe organ on Easter morning and thumped on the sand like a Marine Corps base drummer. We both slept until 9:20 a.m. How fine if all the world could have a strawberry margarita and sleep until 9:20.