Chills, Thrills at LACMA Preview Party

It was a good night for Gronk. A very good night.

Gronk, the artist, who goes by only one name, was savoring the irony of it all.

Yes, of course, he said, it was an honor to see his paintings hanging inside the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. But it wasn’t exactly the first time he had shown there.

“In 1972,” the East L.A. artist explained, “I came in the middle of the night and defaced all the entrances and exits of the museum with spray paint. At that time no Latino artist had ever shown here. I signed the whole museum as my art piece. Now they’re saying, ‘Thank you.’ ”

Stellar Supporters

Wednesday night’s preview reception for “Hispanic Art in the United States, 30 Contemporary Painters & Sculptors” brought out the usual stellar, sparkling crowd of museum supporters, but there was something different about this particular opening. Maybe it was the combination of black tie and black beans on the menu. Or the sounds of Afro-Cuban music (with a slight jazz overtone) beating through the Times Mirror Central Court. Or the elaborately painted chrome yellow 1950 Chevy low rider--the ultimate custom car, if you will--parked at the entrance of the Robert O. Anderson Building.

A lot of people didn’t know quite what to make of that car. Should they laugh? Should they try to interpret it? Or what? “Do you have a card?” George Gradow, who is married to actress Barbi Benton, asked ponytailed artist Gilbert Sanchez Lujan, who had entitled his art work “Our Family Car” because it really was before it became an exhibit. “We just bought a ranch in Aspen,” Gradow said, “and that piece would be faaaabulous.”

Elsewhere in the gallery:

Sculptor Robert Graham, also ponytailed, posed for a photographer in front of a sculpture, a nude woman, entitled “Fountain Figure 1.” His date, who is his ex-wife, Anne Kresl, said it was she.

Painter Luis Stand of Brooklyn, New York, making his first visit to Los Angeles, was asked for his opinion of the museum. “I like the idea that it’s located on an area of--what do you call it?--tar pits. It’s very peculiar, a prehistoric site in the middle of the city,” he mused. So he and artists Rolando Briseno, also of Brooklyn, and Rudy Fernandez, of Santa Fe, caught a tour of the La Brea tar pits that afternoon.

Roberto Gil de Montes was complaining that one of his erotic paintings was removed earlier from the show, organized by the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, which has been touring for a year and a half. “I was told the owner of the piece wanted it back. But I’m the owner.”

Gilbert Sanchez Lujan opened the trunk of the Chevy, pulled out some crayons and drew chili peppers on curator Howard Fox’s bow tie. “Gilbert’s compulsive,” Fox said. “Whenever he sees an unadorned surface he has to make it glow.”

Like most of the crowd, collectors Morris and Rita Pynoos admitted that except for the firmly established sculptures of Robert Graham, they weren’t familiar with any of the art on display. “It’s very important to know what’s going on besides the right names in the art world,” Rita remarked.

“Don’t they look a little like the German Expressionists?” Morris pondered.

Observing from the sidelines, Steven Lavine, the new president of CalArts, said: “I think people are more attentive tonight than I’ve ever seen them. It’s work they don’t know how to look at, so they have to look. There’s a higher ratio of people inside looking than outside eating.”

A Cold Wind

True, but outside, a cold wind whipped through the reception area. Furs, trench coats, even long underwear (Hollywood Reporter publisher Tichi Wilkerson Kassel’s solution underneath her Oscar de la Renta beaded jacket and trousers) were the order of the evening.

As for the youngest art connoisseurs, they were kept warm by their mothers. Janis Dinwiddie, head of the museum’s special events office, cuddled her 2-month-old son, Tommy Steenrod, while Stephanie Barron, curator of Twentieth Century art, snuggled 10-week-old Max Rifkind-Barron, whom, she noted, was making his museum debut. Both babies heeded the dress code and wore tiny tuxedos.

“This show is from my department,” Barron said, “and I want to start him early.”