I Always Hated the Frick

by E. Amato

That stuffy architecture.

Those prissy paintings.

(Okay, I have a thing for Goya and El Greco and they have some masterpieces there, but the rest - not so much.)

In general, I'd scoff at a trip to the Collection with friends or out-of-towners. But secretly, when I was done with some fascinating exhibit at the Whitney or had trekked uptown to go to something at the Met, I'd go over to the Frick and sit in the garden. There's just no place like it in Manhattan. You could sit there and breathe, see something not haphazard. Imagine you were outside a stuffy building with prissy things inside that you'd escaped in the middle of some Edith Wharton-esque society party where you were waiting to meet the one person who would make your night interesting.

Now the garden - that sanctuary - is under threat.

And so are the Watts Towers. LA still does not boast much in the way of community, but the towers, the vision of an obsessed southern Italian (I swear he has to be my ancestor), has brought generations together. This divisive city comes together around those towers, whether it's the community protecting them during the riots, or families touring them, or the festival every year that brings music and art outside.

These places mean something to me, but there are many more places on the at-risk list - they may mean something to you. Please read this informative article from the LA Times and get involved!