Editor’s Note: I wanted to introduce you to one of our newest contributors, Shari Holly–a Detroit native in California.  She will provide us with regular updates about what is happening in LA.

“LA is never quiet.” This is what I thought to myself as I sat outside of the Starbucks on 6th and Grand writing this. People watching, admiring how the lofts across the street ride the skyline, closing my eyes and being receptive to the sounds you can’t get anywhere else—it’s all art to me and it’s all LA. Everything is so close together and it’s almost like the sun chooses where it wants to shine. I’m sitting between skyscrapers and I wonder why I’m here. Being a Detroit native, a 1 year and 1 month Chicago resident, and now an LA transplant, it’s safe to say I thrive best in big cities. Adventure and risk taking keep me sane and I’m re-defining my own means of art by the minute. Art is sensual. It’s what I see, hear, and feel.

I woke up this morning and with no particular plan or reason, decided to take the subway downtown to walk the streets and explore a bit. I was hoping to swing by the MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art), to check out an exhibit that I wanted to cover, but they were setting up for their gala so I promise you more on that in the future. As I started weaving my way through the streets downtown, I started to notice the hidden beauties of the city that you miss when you’re going 40mph, avoiding the herds of people crossing the street and trying not to get stuck behind the big red Metro buses.

For example, when I got to 9th and Olympic, masked by the congestion, I passed the Santee Alley where there are what seems to be hundreds of shops and artesian style markets (great for the bargainers out there). Further down Grand, I came across the Water Court plaza with an abstract restaurant off a pond of fresh water for fine dining and a nice concert space. If you go up the cement stairs, you get the most amazing view of the city. Walking down Hill Street, I saw a guy practicing his dance moves in the doorway of what used to be an old theatre. After a few hours, with no article written, but a head full of inspiration, I decided to hop back on the subway home, and then that’s when it came to me.

Riding the subway, there’s obviously not much to look at out the window (unless you find rapid white lights and complete darkness appealing). I was surprised to know that a lot of LA’s raw art is underground. I enjoyed looking at the art and murals that color the subway stops giving each one its own personality and culture. For the 30 seconds the train was still for people to board, I wondered what story the artist wanted to tell, what were their motives? (don’t worry, I plan to find out!). Then, there’s the people. The people are the art too. The skateboarder, the guy with the dingy head wrap that reads “99%,” the working mother and her three children, the spitting image of Kurt Cobain in the corner, the teenager behind me with the pink hair and piercings singing along with her ipod with no shame, the seemingly timid guy in front of me reading his bible…then you have me—writing this while listing to Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” and remembering why I love his music so much.

These different people, their stories, and their personalities and dreams are what make a city’s culture so special. Art is like love and like I hope this column will be: universal, personal, and undefined.

-Shari H.