To get why this joke is so important to me, I feel I’ve got to explain what happened leading up to this sign.

I’ve come to the conclusion that if you want to attract Millenials to your establishment, simply put a giant Jenga in it. That is all. No other crazy marketing strategy needed. Just a large Jenga set. Let your imagination run from there. Laguna Beach is a city I’ve fallen in love with as I have tried to understand my place in this County of Orange. A liberal arts town by the ocean where I can actually find parking. I’m all in. However, as I perused the South Shore this Art Walk I started to take cognizance of my age.

I’m 32. Looking 40 when I wake up. Looking twenty-something after I get dressed. Emotional intelligence of a teenager. I love the art museum. The perfect combination of creativity and information bringing the public together. It’s the galleries that start to get divisive.

In this country, at this time, we are more divisive than ever. Across all sectionalities. And even more passionate about our groups than ever. Enter Millenials. What age is a Millenial? According to my ultimate resource in research, Wikipedia:

“There are no precise dates for when this cohort starts or ends; demographers and researchers typically use the early 1980s as starting birth years and the mid-1990s to early 2000s as ending birth years.”

Some analysts place the entry point as far back as 1976 with many capping by 1984, with a general consensus of “the early 80s”. I was born in 1984. That’s early 80s right, or perhaps even mid. I grew up in the 90s, burnt CDs, scrambled to back up my computer on December 31, 1999. I loved Rugrats, All That, and generally all the Nick Toons. Waterfalls & No Scrubs def my jams. 90s Baby tho? I am not. I was reluctant for over a year to join Spotify because “you can’t just get free music like that”. I’m reluctant to join any dating app because “you can’t just get dates like that”. There are some technologies I’m starting to refuse to learn. Blame it on old man syndrome. I am a cusp baby. Old enough to actually obtain respect from the Boomers, young enough to help them fix their computers. Now what does this have to do with my Art Walk experience and that joke???

I don’t like taking photos in galleries out of respect. But contrast these 2 photos I got in, if you will.

The first photo, your typical stuffy gallery with pieces ranging from $1k into the five digit price tags. They know their audience. The gallery smells like Elizabeth Taylor Diamonds. Art reminiscent of the 50s and 60s (We all like to reminisce about our early years). An acoustic musician playing covers of the best of soft rock. Pearls, pearls and more pearls. And, of course, a tour guide, ready to moisten your art palate and trigger the emotive action of taking out your wallet.

Second Photo. There is no tour guide. This is the art world I have known for the past 5 years working with RAWartists. Young, vibrant energies with images of travel and experiences. Nothing reminiscing further back than the 80s. There is a DJ. Of course there’s a DJ. Video games, Light Bright, Guess Who, and of course, the giant Jenga. I’ve seen this before. Only at bars in Los Angeles, where the young & single of the west coast thrive. But not in this town. Not in the town where every gallery I visited had someone wearing Tommy Bahama or Ann Taylor. There were more beards and flower crowns than I’ve seen all week (And I’ve been on Instagram!).

This is my vibe. This should have been my scene. But why was I the only one with a collared shirt? Shoes that didn’t have skate marks on them? Why was I unimpressed with the games and actually wanted to hear about the history of the shop. I wanted the tour guide….

And so I walked out. And walked North. The next few blocks were artless, when a gallery sign appeared like a mirage in a desert. But wait, why was the sign in front of an Active Culture. I’ve heard of this place before. A healthy food & yogurt place. No mirage. I eagerly entered. This has to be the happening place. Empty.

A hip, cool spot with music through the speakers, explanations of the pieces on the wall in lieu of a tour guide. The perfect combination of different and classic. And no one. No one here. I took in some of the pieces in the gallery and then proceeded to get my yogurt. I asked the very pretty cashier why no one was there. She said, she doesn’t know, the owner tries to bring people in, but it’s been empty the past few times. We had a conversation about the art space, and the town that had me eating almost melted yogurt by the time I paid. She was my tour guide. Ironically, after having just posted on Facebook about not going to see a girl in North Hollywood. I would make the trip to come back to this venue. If not to talk to her again, then to meet someone else as I felt I had found my space in between the worlds.

Oh, but what about the IZZA GRILL joke?? Well, after the yogurt and a few galleries later, I saw the sign. And basically, Paul Wall was known for his grills, right? If you’re too young, you might not remember that. And ‘Issa’ is a popular culture reference to slang made popular by 21 Savage for ‘it’s a’. You might be too old if you don’t know that. So to be on the cusp means knowing both references. And if you get that. You’re my people. Come to Active Culture with me.