Lily

Lily

They call them exotic pets, but there was nothing exotic about Lily. She was blind, she didn't like to be touched, she'd bite our toes under the blankets, she wouldn't come when we called, spending many a night in the oven, but sometimes, when she was on the verge of sleep, we could pet her and she'd relish in the touch. 

The first time I saw her she was on the shoulder of a teenager who sold her (and Blu) to us. We knew the minute we got home, they'd given us a blind, unfriendly rat, but we didn't care. We still loved her. Tom found her dying in the cage this morning at 4 a.m.; I took her into the vets around 9, to have her put to sleep. Her heart was strong, but she was in pain and Tom insisted I take her in. Perhaps it was the best thing, but I don't know, maybe the business of dying for a rat takes a long time.

Here's to you Lily, for being who you were without apology.

Street Art on the eastside....

I've been roaming around Highland Park and Silverlake today, trying to distract myself, bumping into dancing bums and art everywhere. After today I might even say that northeast LA is the street art capital of the world.

Take this first mural, made by Sand One that I saw on the side of a building on York Ave.

 Sand One

in Highland Park

Sand One is one of the most popular street artists around in this part of town. At first I wasn't so keen on her style, but now that I know what it takes, I'm a fan. See more of her work at: www.sandoner.com.

 My favorite mural in Highland Park, Monte Vista and Ave. 52

 Transmission Shop, York Ave. Highland Park

Wheat Paste on Figueroa near Ave 34,

Cypress Park

 Spray paint by Vixz

Ave. 56 and Fig

Utility box at Tropical Icecream

 Silverlake 

(where AA meets)

Today I started to experiment with a stencil and some cans of paint. It was the only thing, besides driving around and bumping into things, I found I could do.

This last one I call Triple Ratz, or Rat Dance

(Thanks, Melanie!!)

••••

And one last one: original art made in the street, with Louise Steinman, for a performance piece called, Dog's Head Route, performed in Portland, OR, 1980.

This is not a Rat  

Frogtown Rat Rider, Part Two

Dear Readers;

I had to do a little redo on this post. Some viewers were unsure as to what exactly they were looking at, that is, what was the original street mural, and what was my part. So I've added some photos to clarify. Also, my first post on the Rat Rider might help explain as well. 

Here was original Mayan mural found in Frogtown:

(Notice a ladder on the ground, 

perhaps they were trying to do a little touch up?)

And here was my first addition:

Frogtown Rat Rider

(click to make bigger)

And here is where I left off, adding the Mayan warrior boxer (or, at least, half of him):

Warrior Boxer and Frogtown Rat Rider,

Mayan mural on Blake Street

My friend Molly and I put this up last night right before it began to drizzle, then rain, and then pour, and I should have listened to her about the weather forecast, but I had a need to complete this incomplete mural, and so we went: step ladder in hand, two brushes, a bucket full of paste and our cameras that we couldn't use because our hands were too sticky.

Today Molly called after the rain and told me the boxer was still up (we had our doubts) but her mother, who she took along to see it, asked her why I hadn't finished the mural— those people with only one arm and leg, she couldn't understand it. She must've thought me lazy, leaving it so raw.

After we'd done the deed we went back to my house and played with rats, or the one that would play, Blu. Here's Molly and Blu, who couldn't stay away from each other, esp Blu, who had a thing for Molly's fake fur hoody. I had to make sure she didn't "accidentally" take my fat rat home with her.

Just hanging

•••

endnote: Like most natives of Louisville, KY, I'm a big fan of Muhammad Ali, who was born Cassius Clay in Louisville when it was still a fiercely segregated city. The book, Muhammad Ali: in Perspective, by Thomas Hauser (Collins Publishers San Francisco, 1996) was my inspiration for the warrior boxer, with a few tears thrown in for how much I love/loved the great Ali.

 

 

One for the Road...

 Mekko on rat rock

1988

We're getting ready to head out to Joshua Tree today; it's my b'day tomorrow and the only place I want to be is in that spiritual force field. If you've been there, you know what I mean. We've been going to JT since the kids were literally babies. Tom and I taught them how to climb the rocks, scramble up impossible crevices, jump across 3 ft wide and 20 ft straight down gaps, trek into no man's land where no man, or woman for that matter, could save us if we fell. We climbed until our fingers were stripped raw and our knees beat up and bloody, until we could barely walk back to the car. God those were the beautiful, good old days. 

 Maya at sunset

When we go there now, the kids leave us in the dust. We struggle to keep up to their jackrabbit ways, as they hop and leap and glide over the boulders, looking back at us as we limp along. It's a whole change of guard: they lead us now. 
I don't know why I'm getting so nostalgic just because it's my birthday, but I am. I wish those kids were here right now to climb with us tomorrow.

 On the rocks with Maya and Mekko 
Wonderland of Rocks

(photo credit: Tom Harjo)

•••

A friend— I call her that although we met online and I've never met her in person— posed a question on her blog, asking: what is it you do, what is your project, that allows you to possess your past? I realize I have an answer, but I've been too embarrassed to put it on her blog, so here's my response: Project Fun, Project Happiness. That's what makes it possible to posses my rotten past. I've given up being serious, political, consequential. Maybe that's a product of getting older; I'm giving up on making a mark. As impractical as it may be, I want to be happy.

Okay enough already! Some announcements: 

Please check out the Occidental and NELA Bicycle Art Show at Occidental College, opening this Thursday, Feb 28, and running through March 15, at the Weingart Center gallery. Margaret Gallagher, whose concept it was, told me the gallery hasn't been used since the last curator left. I think this show will be lots of fun (oh dear, there's that word again) and if you come, you'll see a piece by Smiley Barnacle, the name alone is worth the free price of admission. I also have 2 photos in the show.

And a new comic!

This one is about my hairdresser, an ex-drug addict, a sweetheart and someone who drives me crazy with her stories. Here's one of them:

 http://ratsnestcomics.blogspot.com/2013/02/my-hairdressermy-sniper.html

Now to get on the road....




 

Frogtown Rider

Last year, not so long ago, my teacher at Art Center said to go big, so I did: after trying a wall outside, I drew on my built-in cabinets. 

Then, one day, after my class had ended, biking along the LA River into Frogtown, I saw this decaying Mayan mural, with holes in the wall, along Blake Street:

Ah! Doesn't that Mayan Princess need a rat? Yes, I think she does! 

Let me see what I can do...

 

Melding rat and rider with mural. My first wheat paste, done under the protection of night.

Frogtown Rat Rider

The Mayan warrior was much bigger than I thought! But come to think of it, doesn't that man need a ...? More to come.

•••

Thanks goes out to Ivonne Adel-Bureos, artist-in-residence at Nomad Studios;  Ivonne is a prolific printmaker and street artist, working in Mexico City, and so much fun! She's having a show at Nomad, with founder Damon Robinson, on Feb. 22, running through the weekend. Check it out!

A Walk in the Park

Raining today, but at least it's not freezing. Poor souls/soles on the eastcoast. I'm remembering how cold would sneak right past the soles of your boots, into your long underwear, around your padded bra, under your wool scarf, and out your nose, freezing your eyelashes shut. I lived in Madison and Toronto and I know cold....but I couldn't do it again. 

Stay warm my children!

Speaking of them, after they left I took a walk in Heidelberg Park, recently home to the poster wars of my last post. Heidelberg Park reminds me of the Haleakala Crater that Barbara Kingsolver writes about in High Tide in Tucson. Bus loads of tourists come to visit the volcano, but stick to the parking lot; very few descend into its depths, which goes on for miles.

Heidelberg Park isn't exotic like that, but very few people venture beyond the street. Eighteen-acres of park sink into steep, wooded canyon. Does anyone walk into its core besides coyotes, I wonder, as I venture down the trail.

Or I should say trails. Someone's been digging them, and it ain't SMMC. Someone with a strong back, and an eye towards history. Why do I say that? Because he (and I've seen him) has built trails and walls and stairs out of brick. They remind me of the hand built stone walls, from the early 1700s, along the roads near Lexington, KY.

Whoever the trailmaker is, evidence of his love for bricks is everywhere.

Hand built stone wall in Heidelberg Park

Los Angeles Pressed Brick Co. 
founded in 1887

 (this brick, used for a stepping stone, is old!)

 

Trojan

From the open trail, I descend deep into an overhanging mesh of brambles, and surprise a clutch of doves and robins, who fly off making a racket. Is this where the coyotes—sounding in the hundreds— bed down at night?

Further on, I find something unexpected: a skateboard hanging from a rope attached to a tree, 20 ft. up. Who hung it? Not the guy who's digging the trails, he's not the skateboarding type. Must be a kid or two from the 'hood. I try swinging on the board, but fail.

 

Hanging rope in the brambles

I make my way back up and out. It's a workout; I don't see a soul. No one's here on this beautiful day, and I almost feel guilty. But not so guilty that I want the trails clogged with city folk. Let the coyotes and birds and moles enjoy this place of solitude undisturbed.

Heidelberg Park looking out over Highland Park

• •• •

Dear readers, I've just posted a new post on my comic blog, Rat's Nest Comics. I don't advertise, but if you've gotten this far, please check it out.

Poster War on the Hill

Most people wouldn't call the NE community of Mt. Washington, 10 min. from downtown LA, a suburb, but sometimes it feels like one, where nothing happens all day except people driving down the hill to work, and 9 hrs later, up again, children coming and going from school, dogs being lost and found, red-tailed hawks flying lazily overhead, moles popping through the earth like thumbs. It's quiet most of the days that aren't garbage days, or DWP days, or days gangs from HP drag race around the sharp bends on the hill. Most days nothing happens. Nothing at all.

Looking down from Mt. Washington:
Heidelberg Park, an 18-acre protected black walnut grove,

and Highland Park beyond

But that's not all days. On the leftover days that aren't dull, there's intrigue, which one wouldn't necessarily equate with the area. I'm not talking meth labs, or screaming spouses setting fire to their houses. No I'm talking about a little intrigue that's been going on on top of my hill, of which, ironically, or perhaps not so, I found myself involved.

A green sign for Heidelberg Park sits on top of the hill, and a few yards away, the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy display case that once housed an official poster, describing the flora and fauna in the park. After a virulent wind storm a year ago, the sign fell down and the poster was destroyed. The sign was resurrected, but the display case sat empty for almost a year. 

 empty display case

One day, walking by, I noticed a sepia-hued poster with a drawing of a dirt mound, and inside, the history of "Mound Washington." The author, in perfectly articulated seriousness, explained how Mt. Washington (Mound Washington) was built on top of a garbage heap, part of the city's waste disposal system. It was no hack job; indeed, it was very professional. A few months later, the poster was gone. 

Jump 6 months ahead. 

One night, I pried open the empty display case and cleaned out the remains of the "mound" poster and wiped down the plexiglass, and that weekend, I invited some friends over to help me (cover for me) as I placed a new poster inside the display case. 

Poster

(click to enlarge)

Inside SMMC display case

My poster (which I replaced soon after with a copy) sat for perhaps a week, when, one morning, I noticed the original text had been pasted over with the "Mound Washington" text. It was again a very professional job. The same font, the same paint job as my poster, only the words were different. I'd touched a nerve when I said, "Contrary to popular belief," Mt. Washington wasn't a garbage heap. The new poster said that, "in complete accordance with popular belief, Mt. Washington is artificially, constructed from discarded materials, thus earning the nickname, Mound Washington." A poster war was on!

Of course, I had to retaliate. What caught my eye, and was most impressive, was the fictitious Hugh Washington the author said was responsible for Heidelberg Park. I responded with an expanded version, which I put in the display case over the weekend, addressing the mound issue, and stating that it was Lillian Washington, not Hugh, that was an early champion of the park, as Hugh had been crushed by a horse and carriage.

And so now I wait patiently to see how and when my opponent will strike again. He/she too has to go into the display case unseen, do the pasting, the painting, the sitting at the computer hammering out his/her cause. I expect surprises from this opponent, as I believe he/she has a superior grasp of the absurd. Naturally, I wish him/her well. If you are out there reading this, may the best Mt. Washingtonian win! 

 Waiting for my opponent

• •• •

Here is full text of posters:

Original Text:

You are looking out over beautiful Heidelberg Park, located in the northeast neighborhood of Mt. Washington. In 2003, Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy dedicated this 18-actre canyon as protected parkland. One of the finest examples of black walnut groves in Southern CA, it supports over 100 bird species, large packs of coyotes, raccoons, possums, lizards, rats, moles and other creatures living underground.

Mt. Washington sits at 940 ft. above sea level and was once part of the Rancho San Rafael, population: 15,000 sheep. Today, the area's diverse population champions natural habitat over urban expansion, protecting countless acres from futhur development. Contrary to popular belief, Mt. Washington does not sit on a mound of garbage (Mound Washington), but atop a complex geological system known as the Puente Formation of Rocks, dating back millions of years. 

Replaced "mound" text: 

Mt. Washington sits at 940 ft. above sea level and was once part of the flat, tarry expanse that divided east Los Angeles. The landscape began to transform in 1913, when scrap from the city's overburdened waste and septic disposal systems was used to stabilize the tarry surface into earth suitable for construction. And so, in complete accordance with popular belief, Mt. Washington is artificially, constructed from discarded materials, thus earning the nickname, "Mound Washington."

You are now looking over beautiful Heidelberg Park. When Construction of Mt. Washington was completed in 1917, the park was opened to much fanfare and ceremony, in hopes of convincing naysayers that the mound was now indeed suitable for residential use. In the words of the mound's original visionary Hugh Washington, "To foster their dreams, it is crucial to give children a special place; [the park] serves that purpose."


New text (inserted over weekend):

You are looking out over beautiful Heidelberg Park, which was designated a significant Juglans californica var californica (native black walnut) woodlands and protected parkland by the Santa Monica Mts Conservancy in 2003. One of the park's earliest champions, Miss Lillian Washington [1895-1977] said of the area, "[it is] the finest example of urban wildlife found anywhere west of the Arroyo Secco basin." Enjoy!

At 940 ft. above sea leavel, Mt. Washington is part of the Puente Formation, composed of plutonic, volcanic and metamorphic rocks that make up the slopes of northeast Los Angeles. Contrary to popular opinion, it was Lillian, not her husband, Gen. Hugh Washington, who laid by hand the narrow highways and byways, which brought accessibility to the area after Hugh was crushed by a horse and carriage on the dirt road known as present-day San Rafael Ave.