• In conjunction with the current exhibition Patterns Bigger Than Any of Us: Jesse Fleming / Pat O'Neill in Ben Maltz Gallery, May 7 - August 12, 2017.

    In Conversation: Jesse Fleming and Pat O'Neill, moderated by LA-based idependent curator and historian Ciara Moloney


    Jesse Fleming (b. 1977) is part of an emerging group of artists and technologists that examine the convergence of media art and mindfulness. Recent solo exhibitions were held at Five Car Garage; 356 Mission; and Night Gallery, all in Los Angeles, CA; and the University of Texas in Austin, TX.

    Pat O’Neill’s (b. 1939) artistic and filmmaking career spans over 50 years, and he is highly-regarded for his experiments with film and optical printing. Recent solo exhibitions were held at Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive in Berkeley, CA; Monitor in Rome, Italy; VeneKlasen/Werner in Berlin, Germany; Quinta do Quetzal in Vidigueira, Portugal; Mitchell-Innes & Nash in New York, NY; and Cherry and Martin in Los Angeles, CA.

    Ciara Moloney is an independent curator, editor, and writer based in Los Angeles. She was formerly Curator of Exhibitions and Projects at Modern Art Oxford where she curated exhibitions by Barbara Kruger, Josh Kline, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Christian Boltanski and Kiki Kogelnik.

  • Amelia Gray is the author of the short story collections AM/PM, Museum of the Weird, and Gutshot, as well as the novels Threats and, most recently, Isadora, published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Her fiction and essays have appeared in The New Yorker, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Tin House, and VICE. She is winner of the New York Public Library Young Lions Award, of FC2's Ronald Sukenick Innovative Fiction Prize, and a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award. 

  • Luis J. Rodriguez was Los Angeles Poet Laureate from 2014-2016. The twenty-fifth edition of his first book, Poems Across the Pavement, won a 2015 Paterson Award for Sustained Literary Achievement. He has written fourteen other books of poetry, children’s literature, fiction, and nonfiction, including the best-selling memoir Always Running: La Vida Loca: Gang Days in L.A. Rodriguez is also founding editor of Tia Chucha Press and co-founder of Tia Chucha’s Centro Cultural & Bookstore in the San Fernando Valley. In 2016 Tia Chucha Press produced the largest anthology of L.A.-area poets, Coiled Serpent: Poets Arising from the Cultural Quakes & Shifts of Los Angeles. Rodriguez’s last memoir It Calls You Back: An Odyssey Through Love, Addiction, Revolutions, and Healing was a finalist for the 2012 National Book Critics Circle Award. His latest poetry collection Borrowed Bones appeared in 2016 from Curbstone Books/Northwestern University Press.

  • Raised in Philadelphia, with roots in South Africa and Trinidad, Zinzi Clemmons’ writing has appeared in Zoetrope: All-Story, Transition, The Paris Review Daily, and elsewhere. She has received fellowships and support from the MacDowell Colony, Bread Loaf, the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, and the Kimbilio Center for African American Fiction. She is co-founder and former Publisher of Apogee Journal, and a Contributing Editor to LitHub. She teaches literature and creative writing at the Colburn Conservatory and Occidental College. Her debut novel, What We Lose, as well as a second title, are forthcoming from Viking.

  • Louise Sandhaus is a graphic designer and graphic design educator. She was previously Director of the Graphic Design Program at CalArts where she currently is faculty. Her recent book on California graphic design, Earthquakes, Mudslides, Fires and Riots: California and Graphic Design 1936-1986, co-published by Metropolis Books and Thames & Hudson, has received laudatory reviews from The New York Times, The Guardian, Eye, and Creative Review. The book received the Palm d’Argent for best art book at FILAF (International Festival of Art Books and Films on Art).

  • Photo Credit: Jesse Pniak


    F. Douglas Brown received the 2013 Cave Canem Poetry Prize (selected by Tracy K. Smith) for Zero to Three, published by the University of Georgia. He also co-authored the chapbook Begotten with Geffrey Davis as part of Upper Rubber Boot Book's Floodgate Poetry Series. Both a past Cave Canem and Kundiman Fellow, his poems have appeared in the Academy of American Poets, The Virginia Quarterly, Bat City Review, The Chicago Quarterly Review, The Southern Humanities Review, The Sugar House Review, Cura Magazine, and Muzzle Magazine. He is co-founder and curator of un::fade::able - The Requiem for Sandra Bland, a quarterly reading series examining restorative justice through poetry as a means to address racism. Brown currently teaches English at Loyola High School in Los Angeles.

  • Emily Raboteau’s nonfiction work Searching for Zion was named a best book of 2013 by the Huffington Post and the San Francisco Chronicle, and was a finalist for the Hurston Wright Legacy Award, grand prize winner of the New York Book Festival, and a winner of a 2014 American Book Award. She is the author of a novel, The Professor’s Daughter, and her fiction and essays have been published and anthologized in Best American Short Stories, the New York Times, The New Yorker, Tin House, Buzzfeed, LitHub, The Guardian, Guernica, Virginia Quarterly, The Believer, and Salon. Other honors include a Pushcart Prize, the Chicago Tribune’s Nelson Algren Award, and fellowships from the NEA, the Lannan Foundation, and the MacDowell Colony. Raboteau teaches creative writing at City College in New York.



I Don't Want to Live on the Moon


Hot pink - Flowers. A smack on the back. Matching outfits for young sisters. A kind of underwear for a person of a certain age, and only of a certain age. An accent wall in said person’s room. A furry pillow on said person’s bed. A personal website at a certain time, filled with glitter and other things. A jarring AIM font. A timely color. An outdated color. Something nobody likes. Or that most people like but won’t admit to it. A lip that won’t allow itself to be smudged, or that secretly wants it. A feeling of defiance. A feeling of, maybe, sometimes, being hysterical. A regret. Some hydrangeas and the flowers on your grandmother’s hibiscus tree. Euphorbia milii. A color that if allowed to get big enough will contain you.


Gold - Little hoop earrings, and big ones too. Curtains my mother made, couches she upholstered. Interior decor. The frame of a mirror on the wall, accents on a clock. Socks I once owned. Rings and necklaces and chains. A watch. Spray paint used to paint over boxes during Christmas to put our tree on. The edge of a ribbon, otherwise red, wrapped around the tree. “Contemporary Dominican tacky.” A choice to be mulled over. Pat McGrath Labs Gold 001. Opulent and cheap. The standard. A reminder to stay angry. 


Transparent - Water, ice, glasses, for drinking and for seeing. Acetate sheets layered one atop the other. When your father is in a car and you’re outside, so your uncle picks you up and passes you to him through the driver seat window. A fear of being chopped in half. Airplane windows before you close them. Taking off your glasses and not seeing anything, while still looking at everything. A flash of light. A beam of light. Getting your eyes checked and being told you have cataracts, but not to worry about it. You’re young. A light mist in the morning, and dew drops on whatever is growing in your front yard. Being able to see outside as you’re being driven from the airport to the place you’ll live in. The inside of the grapes your dad’s cousin gave you as a snack for the ride. The water on the Hudson River, now, but not before, and not during the winter. The river your grandparents live near in the Caribbean. Being a river girl and not a beach girl. Not being able to fully close your apartment window during the winter. Getting a cold because of it. Runny snot and phlegm. Your face when you’re upset. Turning away so nobody can see it.


Black - An absence. A lack. Something inside me and not outside. Boots. A cool uniform. My father’s hair, dyed. Coffee, tea, mamba, Friday. One part of trigueña. Handles on a knife. A stereo system, a TV, old gas stoves. Old iron pots. Burnt rice. Nails. Your snot after drawing for too long in a closed room with charcoal. Some cousins, and not others. Panthers. My abuela’s dead dog, in the diminutive. A survival. Glaucoma. What I’ll see once the cataracts take over. What my grandfather will see sooner. Blood clots, almost.


Kiara Alvarado V. is a Scorpio born somewhere in el Cibao, Dominican Republic, and spent about a third of the first nine years of her life flying back and forth between there and New York City. She didn’t realize she had curly hair until she was fifteen years old, and if you don’t know what that means then you’re not Dominican. She got her first computer in 1998 but didn’t use it until 2002. She likes video games, but only if they’re good. When she moved to LA she realized how much she loved cold weather.

March 2017
GFA Exhibition: Kiara Alvarado V.
2:00PM - 9:00PM Seashore Motel, Room C
Sponsored by
Graduate Fine Arts
March 2017
2017-03-11 14:00 2017-03-11 21:00
GFA Exhibition: Kiara Alvarado V.
2:00PM - 9:00PM | Seashore Motel, Room C
2637 Main St., Santa Monica, CA 90045