Maia B.
Yelp
I found about the Henry Miller Library in the oddest way. I was interviewing for a sublet at 14th and Valencia, and our weekend plans came up. I said that my boyfriend and I were going camping in Big Sur, and my (ultimately doomed) hopeful landlady lit up. "Oh, you must go to the Henry Miller museum!" Well, I'm not really much for museums, and I was going to Big Sur to see Nature with a capital "N", not art. However, I also really wanted a place to live, and I'm good at feigning interest. "Really? That sounds great, what's it like?", hoping I could slide through this conversation without making it obvious that I'd never even heard of Henry Miller. She told me a bit more about it, mentioning that it hosted bands I've also never heard of in small backyard concerts. I promised to go, and we said our goodbyes.
The weekend comes, and the boy and I, being too naive to have made reservations for a campsite in Big Sur, are driving up and down Highway 1 considering our options (by which I mean receding into deeper and deeper desperation). On one of our laps, I see a sign on front of a wooden fence, with "Henry Miller Library" neatly lettered on it. For some reason, I'd assumed the place was outside of Big Sur, in a town that looked like San Luis-Obisbo or something, so I was quite surprised to see it nestled in the woods like that. "I know this place we gotta stop!" and compliant boy pulls over to park without question. We parked next to an old car with an old surfboard perched on top of the rack, and shared smiles about how cool it was.
This was only the start, as our entire visit continued to be glowingly excellent. The boy and I couldn't stop quickly turning our heads to check and make sure the other understood how epic the latest attention-grabber was, only to quickly turn back upon receiving confirmation. From the sculptures made of computer monitors in the gardens; to the best collection of books I've ever encountered (including fiction, scientific non-fiction, first editions, and literary arts magazines), as well as lithographs, and books hanging from the ceiling; to the yard cloaked in christmas lights and headed by a modest stage... we only encountered astoundingly comfortable excellence everywhere we looked.
We were excited to talk to the young man staffing the desk. He, as to be expected I suppose, shared our enthusiasm for the space, and delighted us with tales of the bands that had played in this small, intimate venue: MGMT, Animal Collective, Blonde Redhead, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, etc. He casually mentioned that if we were still in town, we should come by the next night to watch the finale, the top 5 films, of that summer's Big Sur Short Film Festival. We hadn't planned to be in town, but with a big of finangling, rearranged our plans so that we could be.
When we arrived the next night, we took our seats in the third row of white folding chairs lined up in front of the stage. Before the films were shown, a composition by Philip Glass was played by the Youth Orchestra of the Americas. When they had finished, they stood up and bowed, then thanked their composer, who was sitting in a grey sweatshirt with his wife in the row in front of us. Philip Glass. was sitting in front of us. sitting. in Big Sur. by us. It took me three of the five films to even calm down enough to start paying attention to them.
Fleet foxes is playing next weekend. Naturally, tickets were sold out as they became available. Regardless, we're planning on driving down again... maybe we can sit in the parking lot to overhear their set. It's worth the drive, even just to be near such a wonderful thing.