A daily chronicle of creativity in film, TV, music, arts, and entertainment, produced by Southern California Public Radio and broadcast from November 2014 – March 2020. Host John Horn leads the conversation, accompanied by the nation's most plugged-in cultural journalists.
Brazilian composer Manuel Lima pushes out a panel on one side of his temporary live-work space, revealing a secret door, and invites me inside. The Cube is a steel frame covered in translucent white fabric and it is Lima’s base for 10 days. It’s set on a triangle of lawn on a busy corner of Sunset Strip, just down the street from the old Tower Records building.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeuTrtpQtSI
The tour doesn’t take long – The Cube is only 100-square-feet. On one side is a tiny console piano, borrowed from Lima’s landlord. Next to that is a rotary fan and a subwoofer, which provides bass notes for one of his compositions. A California pepper tree extends through the center of The Cube, spreading a shady canopy overhead. Dozens of red light bulbs hang from its branches. A white wooden box serves as a storage unit and table and converts into a bed, where Lima will sleep.
I'm considering everything I do in this cube as a performance — eating, sleeping and playing the piano, they're all part of the same performance that is the life in The Cube.
Life in The Cube has a set routine – like any day job. After a morning run and breakfast at a nearby restaurant, Lima plays the piano from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., with a second shift in the evening. The structure is important to the piece, he says.
I really don't like the idea that the artist is doing something really special [that's] beyond regular people. I think it should be the opposite way. Everybody should realize in little things, the art in it. For me, an artist is just a worker, just like someone [who makes] tables, or builds cars or anything else. It's just a process that you do over and over.
Lima is 35, with a slightly goofy smile and a curly mess of brown hair; his uniform is a white t-shirt and faded jeans. He recently earned a Doctor of Musical Arts degree from CalArts. He began playing the piano as a child in his native São Paulo, Brazil. “I started taking flute lessons when I was six,” he says. But he was drawn to the piano in his flute teacher’s house. “He would never let me touch the piano … but I really just wanted to explore it. I bothered my parents to put me in a piano lesson just so I could see what it is, a piano. And then that was it.”
On top of the piano in The Cube sits a '70s-era radio, which Lima uses as a springboard for improvisation.
The day piece, I call it "Sunset Boulevard." I just tune in the radio, some random station, and I listen to that for three minutes, and I do a piano loop of what I'm hearing.
Lima twirls the dial, and a the sounds of AM radio flood by – Mexican music, car commercials, talk show rants. He settles on Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.” His fingers move over the piano keys and he picks up on the bass riff, playing a few notes, then switches off the radio. He sits quietly for a moment, eyes closed, his hands on the keys, and lets out a deep sigh. Then he begins to play.
“Sunset Boulevard” is a repeating series of musical loops, which build as the day goes by. The music is informed not only by the radio, but by the world immediately outside The Cube – the sounds of traffic, the curiosity of passersby, the changing light as the day passes. Lima admits that living, working and playing in such an iconic and exposed setting is a challenge, but, as an artist, he believes it’s an essential one.
I know it's going to sound strange, but for me it's like getting outside of the box. Because as an artist, we create something that's very personal. And we have to remove ourselves from the mass media. Performing there, it's like connecting again with this world.
At five o’clock, an alarm rings, telling Lima it’s time to take a break. He sets up a table and a group of folding chairs, and a nearby coffee shop brings over a container of tea. The public is invited to visit with Lima. Friends from CalArts are there to offer support; one offers to do his laundry during his stay. People who live nearby walk their dogs over to visit.
After dinner, Lima re-enters The Cube to begin the evening shift and begins his second piece, a light-and-sound composition called “Red Light Piano.” As the light fades to dark blue over Sunset Boulevard, The Cube begins to pulse with blinking red lights. The Cube is transformed into an inviting lantern of warmth, with a changing pattern of shadows. The sound of the piano and the bass notes of the subwoofer mingle with the Friday night traffic.
People passing by on their way to drinks or dinner are drawn to the glowing structure with the slight man inside, silhouetted at the piano. They stop out of curiosity and stay to listen. Throughout the evening, small groups drift toward The Cube, then go off to continue their evening. At 10 p.m., Lima calls it a night.
I’m tired. Actually, the whole day, I was apprehensive – I don’t know why. But I feel somehow it’s working.
And with that, Lima prepares a night's sleep in The Cube. When his alarm goes off at 7 a.m., it will be the start of another working day.
You can visit “Sunset Cube” through Aug. 21. It’s located at 8775 Sunset Blvd.