I drove to Pacific Palisades and visited the Eames House today. I had no expectations. I had seen their living room before during the California Design exhibit at LACMA. Back in 2011, the Eames Foundation allowed LACMA to take the entire living room portion of the Eames House, every piece, every book, every rug, save some priceless pieces, for a three-month lender. Though the decision to lend the entire living room was driven mainly out of the need to re-do the floor tiling in the house, which was torn into pieces, it resulted in a newfound love for the Eames House, providing would-be fans like myself an introduction to the genius of Charles and Ray Eames.
So as I walked up the driveway on Chautauqua Blvd., my expectations were somewhat tempered. I figured I would just check off the box on another masterpiece, and one that I had experienced before. Lo and behold, as I stood there, watching the living room in its natural setting, under its natural light, I became enthralled. It refreshed the memory, the soul, like most masterpieces do to me, my creative spirit, as if to tell me, “Hey, this shit is possible. Nothing is impossible.”
My favorite part of the Eames House is the backyard on top of the retaining wall. The long dirt walkway that connects the main house and the studio and eventually the little carport lies in between the structures and the hillside. It provides a serene location to look far into the Pacific Ocean and look near into the freshness of the meadows and eucalyptus trees. I wanted to stay up there and kick tiny rocks around and stare into the everything-ness.