I Saw Paul Klee in Sunnyvale

I'm on self-imposed exile in the suburbs for two days. My grandfather had hip surgery a week ago so I came down to visit. And while a I was out running errands and visiting family friends with my mom yesterday, I noticed all the streets in the sleepy Sunnyvale neighborhood we were driving around were named after geniuses.

Geniuses of the humanities, specifically. Rousseau Drive, Manet Terrace, Renoir Court, Greco Avenue, Verdi Drive, Picasso Terrace... Michelangelo, Chopin, Puccini, Rembrandt, Van Dyck... there was even a Klee Court, lest you think the Sunnyvale city planners were all classicists.

I dunno, there was something about trying to be hip by naming your tree-lined cul de sac after Paul Klee that made me smile.

Paul Klee. Rose Garden. 1920.

I guess what struck me was the very suburban attitude of being a consumer of art. When you live in San Francisco – where everyone considers themselves an artist or a philosopher – there was something very sleepy and provincial about these street names.

As if to say, "There is great art out there in the world, big ideas and beautiful music. We don't necessarily make any of it here in Sunnyvale, but we can name-check some of the greats – and even some of the newer guys like Paul Klee!"

That's not SF. San Francisco proclaims, "Forget all the old names – and start learning ours."