Monday, 5/5/97 Packaging Paradise The California Heritage Museum
examines the impact of Hawaiian culture and stereotypes on 20th-
century America.
By Vanessa VanderZanden Daily Bruin Contributor nce upon a time,
there was a mystical island, far far away. Its half-clad natives
spent their days eating ambrosial pineapples and surfing their
hand-carved long boards on the warm ocean waves. Untouched by the
tendrils of civilization, this Eden-esque fairyland lured the souls
of foreigners the world over. And before this strange paradise
could disappear without a trace, a few precious remnants managed to
survive to the modern day. Now on display in the California
Heritage Museum in Santa Monica, these artifacts of an era lost
make up "Aloha Spirit." This exhibition illustrates the American
integration of Hawaiian culture into the pop style of the ’20s
through the ’60s. The museum balances Hawaii’s true culture and
history with the more idealized American view – from ritzy interior
design to antique photographs to kitschy tiki knickknacks. The
display provokes questions concerning the mainland’s fascination
with its romanticized island counterpart. The bamboo furniture and
grass-skirted dolls seemed to symbolize an escapist fantasy of a
tropical paradise. With a refurnished bottom floor, the vintage
Victorian house immerses visitors in the Hawaiian-influenced styles
of the early part of the century. A full bamboo furniture set with
a large, luscious palm frond-patterned print adorns the living
room. Just below, bamboo blinds, souvenir pillows with palm tree
pictures, Hawaiian prayers and the word "aloha" spread like a
tropical banner from one side of the fringed pillows to the other
recall the days of untouched natural beauty the island had to
offer. Bamboo cabinets hold countless figurines of hula dancers in
leis and grass skirts, waving their arms with looks of
unadulterated charm. In the bamboo bar, huge lava rock ashtrays
await cigarette butts from suave, ukulele-playing gentlemen in
slacks and cabana hats, while Trader Vics’ vintage glassware lines
the wall. Daiquiri mix bottles of the "Don the Beach Comber" and
"Little Wahini" variety smile with fading labels from the side of a
tumbler set with island maps painted on the sides. They illustrate
what happens when a cultural symbol is commercialized and turned
into a cartoon version of its formal, more complex self. Even the
kitchen bares the ghosts of vacation hungry housewives, dreaming of
the adventurous realm of fertile, foreign soil. The cabinets
overflow with brown tiki god cups, where the Hawaiian idols
resemble the huge stone warning sculpture of "Raiders of the Lost
Ark’s" opening jungle scene. The next cabinet over bares the black
lava rock sculptures of half-clad Hawaiian natives, embracing their
innocence while admiring their sensuality all in one form. The
juxtaposition of traditional bamboo furniture with cheap tourist
crafts illustrates the difference between Hawaii’s history and
America’s simplified version of it. Once beyond the main floor, the
gallery’s second story exhibition space opens up an entirely new
array of Hawaiian artifacts. Here, several different segments
highlight various aspects of Hawaiian art and life, from paintings
to fashion and music to surfing. Each ingrains further how
essential the promise of a tropical breeze was and still is to the
workaholic society of America. Though all pieces delight in their
sentimental view of fertile Hawaii, a few atypical pieces demand
special notice. For instance, photos of a proud Duke
Paoakahamamoku, the most famous surfer to tread the fine-sanded
turf, lingers on a wall next to other shots of sun-bleached blond
California boys in their 1920s full-body trunks. Boards of
hand-carved redwood and mahogany adorn the wall just below, while a
life-size hula doll dances in the corner, shaking her grass-skirted
hips to brassy music for a quarter a pop. Continuing in this
musical tradition, one entire small-sized gallery room enchants
with the instruments of Hawaii. Ukulele, banjos, guitars and huge
lap guitars adorn every wall of the tiny room – some hand-painted,
others with inlaid abalone and mother of pearl shells in complex
detail. Further fun comes from tattered sheet music, like "Hawaii –
featuring Harry Owens and his Royal Hawaiians." Yet, no gallery
exhibit would be complete without its share of paintings. A 1920s
series of works by Gene Pressler reveals bob-haired divas with
fleshy, milky-white skin, hit by the Hawaiian light in only the
most goddess-like of ways. One rides a surf board at day, one plays
a ukulele at sunset and one dances on tiptoe against the moonlight.
These seem to further advertise the Elysian field essence that
Americans of the era propagated about the calm Pacific island.
Taking this vibe to a greater level, Robert Lee Eskridge provides a
1951 watercolor, "Kona." Here, vines and tree arms reach through
the rich soil to the ever-expanding, open, humid sky and across the
sunset-colored ocean. Other works show how even the storms of
Hawaii seem romantic in their unbridled freedom. These paintings,
like every other display, call attention to the distorted view of
Hawaii held by Americans. While the idealization of Hawaii is a
welcome fantasy to many Americans, it patronizes and dehumanizes
those who must live in the less-than-perfect reality. Despite the
fact that grass skirts and tiki cups can’t capture the struggles of
laboring natives, they did provide a much-needed escape from the
harsh reality of 20th-century America. ART: "Aloha Spirit" runs
through mid-July at the California Heritage Museum, located at 2612
Main Street in Santa Monica. Open Wednesday-Saturday, 11 a.m.-4
p.m. Call (310) 392-8537 for more information. BAHMAN FARAHDEL
"Aloha Spirit" at the California Heritage Museum explores Hawaii’s
influence on American pop culture through painting, furniture and
music. Colorful ceramic mugs and embroidered neckties are on
display in the "Aloha Spirit" exhibit, which reveals the idealized
but overly simplified vision of Hawaii as the island paradise.