I was at the Getty today for a Multicultural Undergraduate Internship program meeting and when I went to leave, they had shut down the tram so that they could do some gardening alongside the tracks.  So I ended up taking a shuttle bus back down to the parking garage.

The shuttle bus trip seemed exciting at first, but then became a somewhat unwelcome peek into the underbelly of the marble clad art fortress.  Something about the many twists and turns (I swear, at one point I think we did a figure eight), combined with the fact that it deposits you far away from the underground parking garage, forcing the shuttle to traverse several blocks of surface streets before entering the garage as a visitor was, broke the illusion of architectural perfection that my previous tram-only experience provided.

This whole tiny experience reminds me of just how important entrances are.  I spend a fair amount of my time in and out of dojos, and the minor rituals of entrance and exit of those spaces are a constant contextualizing agent in my life.  It’s gotten to the point that I place some great symbolic value in the aesthetics and rituals of entrances and exits in other areas of my life as well.  In some way, the silent ascent of the tram from the mundane world of the parking garage to the cloud city illusion of the Getty Center itself mirrors that kind of controlled entrance (to me at least), and the strange and raw exit from the Getty via shuttle sort of violated the rules of my relationship to the place.