The Iconic James Goldstein and the Lautner Legacy

The man at his man cave. Photo by Steve Shaw, Treats Magazine

The man at his man cave. Photos by Steve Shaw, Treats Magazine

IN A GLASS-FRAMED  photo on a glass desk in a glass and concrete house high on a hill, is pictured a fit young man with shoulder-length, shaggy hair. The man is resplendently dressed in a white, high-collared long-sleeve shirt, crisp, white slacks and black dress boots—a dandy in waiting, it would seem. The man in the photograph is years—maybe decades—away from his unlikely notoriety, but he already looks famous, like the DNA of a young Paul Simon and Doors-era Val Kilmer somehow collided. In his hand is a leash attached to an equally turned out Afghan hound. The dog is important, once the love of his life, the man has said. And it was for that dog that this whole thing started.

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Father Pop


How Mike Salisbury defeated communism with sex, drugs and rock and roll. 

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Scott Mitchell: The Pull of Space and Light


Published by Treats! Magazine

Image © Steve Shaw

IF YOU’VE EVER DRIVEN up the Pacific Coast Highway looking for a piece of sandy respite away from the maddening crowds, or maybe you’re lucky and this stretch is your way home, you’ve probably noticed Nobu restaurant, a sleek slice of contemporary modernism on the beach side of the road just south of 70s kitsch that marks the Malibu Pier.

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Sunday Drive with Joe Donnelly – Home is where the ART is

Multimedia artists Melanie Sue Berry and Craig Stecyk
Photo by Hank Cherry

Sunday Drive with Joe Donnelly – Into The Wild


Sunday Drive with Joe Donnelly


Nott’s Landing


From Winter/Spring, 2015 Montecito Journal 

IN THE HIGHLY UNLIKELY CIRCUMSTANCE you found yourself awake and tromping about the extremely isolated desert surrounding Roswell, New Mexico in the early morning of October 24, and you happened to hear a sonic boom and looked up to the heavens and saw something possibly man-shaped piercing the atmosphere faster than the speed of light, rest assured, it wasn’t Iron Man, or distant relatives coming to claim the mythological Roswell Alien.

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Robert Oshatz



The Portland-based architect — who has designed everything from the floating Fennell Residence to the magical Miyasaka Residence in Japan — mines his spiritual, emotional, poetic and structural depths to create his “from the inside out” architecture. TREATS! meets one of the masters of organic architecture to talk wood and stone, learning to design in reverse order and how to “solve the problem in  a beautiful way.” by Joe Donnelly

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Heroes of the Deep Blue

Originally published in Malibu magazine

El Porto is the perfect Santa Monica Bay surf break, though not because a coincidence of underwater geography makes thewaves there a little bit bigger and more consistent than most local breaks. That helps, but to me it’s so perfect because its inherent contradictions incorporate our strange, dichotomous relationship to the ocean. El Porto’s beach and waves, source of personal pleasure and sometimes even transcendence, are located in the shadow of so many ripe metaphors for our local ecology — the City of Los Angeles’ Hyperion Sewage Treatment, the El Segundo Power Plant, Chevron’s oil refinery. You can sit out there in the lineup and look out into a vast open ocean framed by the headlands of Point Dume to the north and Palos Verdes to the south and be taken by the strange beauty of this place — the way our urban landscape is constantly colliding with nature. Then, look up into the sky and watch jets taking off from LAX for points around the world burning horrific amounts of fossil fuel as they go, passing over the refineries where oil is turned into gasoline, over the towers of the power plants, over the endless spider web of freeways, over the tankers anchored in the bay. Where else do the seemingly conflicting needs of modern man and eternal nature come into such stark contrast?

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The Monster Out of the Box


Originally published in The Surfer’s Journal

A Sandow Birk Omnibus

THE GUEST OF HONOR IS DRESSED IN SLACKS, SENSIBLE SHOES, and a button-down shirt that was possibly ironed. Handsome in a retro, California beach boy way, with hair neater than a dry gin martini, he looks more like someone who stepped out of a Jan and Dean song than a heretic stoking the flames of fatwa. Still, the woman with the salt-and-pepper hair, turquoise jewelry, and the pack of American Spirit cigarettes in her overcoat pocket is palpably agitated. She’s pretty much taken over the question-and-answer session.

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