Hailey Hannan - Genius Loci "South LA Shots"

Party's Over, L.A.

WATCHING this Los Angeles- centered film has left me with some mixed feelings.


Being from Los Angeles, my mother was six months pregnant with my younger sister when the '92 "riots" occurred. When I've talked to her about it, it's always been her recounting frantically how much she didn't want to bring another child into the world. The subjugation of youth within the film is starling. The victimization of D-Fens's daughter, the boy who oddly knows how to shoot varying weapons (and is also playing by a freeway...), and even the child at the pool that literally had D-Fens's blood in her palm are all chillingly violent. The ending of the film implies that the party, or the expectation thereof, is over for Los Angeles. Suicide-by-cop via a childhood summertime toy and soft pastel balloons that have lost their flight paint a picture that isn't sane. We too sink with the helium, absorbing the weight of man's inhumanity to his fellow man.

And Adele never got her party...



-- Hailey Hannan

(images: the children of "Falling Down" via www.aveleyman.com, site of movie & t.v. captures)

New Style Boosters?

WHILE this picture won't make it into my final compilation, I had to share it by other means. I took this picture earlier this weekend in Hyde Park. Is this what "boosterism" has become to Angelenos? Calling on bilingual teens to make some extra cash via abrasive yellow paper? Moreover, who are the two teens that have called?!?

Voice -- The Four-Level

FOUR LEVELS INTO MY HEART


The four level interchange immediately annoys me.

It irritates me that I have to look at it via aerial view, because I’ve sat in it first handedly. My grandma and her friends refer to it as the “four letter” interchange, but this is what Los Angeles traffic does to some people. It drives elderly women to use four letter words to describe their roadways. When I think about what I’ve learned so far in this course, about how freeways created pockets of living spaces and how they allowed us to only come into contact with those we wanted, I begin to see that the 101 and 110 coming to a head showcases this beautifully. This is a beauty that can only be described with concrete and polluted inhalation. Literally people coming from all directions, north, south, east, and west, are forces to sit in traffic next to one another and absorb each other’s company, even if it is from the comfort of your own Jetta. And what happens when we allow these people to “mingle” on the grid-locked freeways? They brandish weapons over lane-changes and scream inexcusable phrases that force the blood in their carotid arteries to nearly burst. We must really love our neighbors.

It is so easy for me to quickly be harsh on my fellow Angelenos. I describe them as brutish savages that are willing to fight for a stop in the carpool lane. But I must acknowledge that I am not above them. Allow us to remember my initial reaction to the picture: annoyance and irritation. Maybe I should work on my own anger issues, but until then I will continue to put on my blinker a mile and a half before I actually need to get over in order to ensure I make my exit. Hand gestures and honked horns aside, the sweeping lanes of infrastructure could be incredibly calming to the right person. I guess I’m just not that right person today

-- Hailey Hannan

FOUR-LEVEL INTERCHANGE

In the center of the urban jungle that is downtown LA, the 101 and the 110 freeways flow into each other like colliding concrete rivers. Horns and sirens make up the music of the four-level interchange as millions of commuters chug their way through the clutter of the crowded lanes. BMWs and Mercedes mix with old VW buses and big rigs, showing the true diversity of the city. In a city that is so spread out, this is the one place all Angelenos are forced to come together. Though everyone is heading off to their own corner of the city, for these few hours in the morning and afternoon, everyone from all walks of life gathers on these cement pathways.


For some, the highways provide escape—a passageway to another alcove of this amazingly diverse city. Hop on the 110 to travel downtown to the ultra-urban LA Live center. Take the Marina freeway down into Santa Monica or Venice and stroll along the boardwalk. Cruise down the 101 to take a tour of the film studios in Hollywood. No matter where you are in the city, entertainment is just a car ride away.


For most however, the highway system is a nuisance—an eternal headache in an otherwise ideal metropolis. Hours upon hours are spent with a foot on the break, banging on the steering wheel, fuming in an unmovable pod of frustration. Because of the densely packed roadways, appointments are missed, plans are canceled, and people are left waiting. “Traffic” is not an inconvenience, but rather a fact of like in LA.

-- Megan McMurtrey


PICTURE

Every level represents different ideas, mentalities, life styles and values. A four-level freeway doesn’t need an explanation because it speaks so loudly on it’s own. Yet once zoomed in, all those cars on the freeway represent different people who are after different things. Driving east a mother going to work, driving west a student rushing to get to class on time, driving north an explorer wondering where the freeway leads, driving south a human being living life. What’s interesting is not the difference in their agenda, but how they all use the same freeway to take them where they want to go. They are all different people but have found a way to “share” the freeway, share LA.

The four-level freeway in Downtown Los Angeles represents how residents of LA are able to work together, yet be after completely different things. The freeway is a visual of how LA is separated, as each level represents a different way, different lifestyle, but they are all LA residents. They all live in LA and although most may complain about the traffic going on, they don’t leave LA. The freeway represents the chaotic elements of the city, since there are four levels of freeways. Four. That symbolizes how different LA really is; no one part is similar to the other as none of the four levels go the same direction.

-- Talin Manooki



THE "FOUR LEVEL" -- DOWNTOWN

Don’t be fooled by the first look of this grey maze of freeways. It is not just another lifeless picture of boring infrastructure, but an intricate design or maze, if you will, for not only cars but people to get to where they want. A place where desires and needs are put in one direction, but can take many twists and turns. It comes in the form of low bridges, high ramps, and different sized underpasses, and stands as really the most picturesque of all the freeways of California. Of course the Pacific Coast Highway has the ocean view and beach breeze, but it is no comparison for the “four level”, which is full of magnificent columns that could hold up the world if it had to.

The maze that is this freeway, could almost act as a metaphor for life. One where there are many opportunities and directions. Most likely, like the cluster of traffic also creates, takes a long time to finally arrive at that original goal. But it is attainable, and not only attainable but one can view so much more while on the road to that goal. They can see other traditions, sample other culture’s foods, ask for directions from a native, or simply get lost and possibly go a route you never knew existed.

The piles of cement take on a 3-D look that pops off the page, inviting anyone to take on the adventure and join the hundreds of other people that are probably on one of the freeways at this very moment. There are plenty of buildings to pop into and people who are waiting to tell their story and possibly help in achieving yours. Are you coming?

-- Jessica Fernandez

(photo via wikipedia commons)

"What's New, Pussycat?"

I walk into “What’s New, Pussycat?” not really knowing the proper etiquette. My studio arts major roommate fervently begins to scribble detailed notes into her ultra-trendy notebook. Since I, for the life of me, cannot figure out how to turn the flash off my camera, I am stuck looking like one of those tourist oddballs that does not follow any social boundary. I may as well be wearing exposed black socks with sandals.

I have come to the Torrance Art Museum to see their exhibit “What’s New, Pussycat?” It’s supposed to be about how art in Los Angeles has developed, and the work spans from 1969 through 2010. However, the majority of the work comes from the 1990s and 2000s, which doesn’t make it as historical as I would have hoped.

I’m not an art critic, so I do not recognize any of the artists or the work, but my roommate tells me that many of the artists were really famous in the 1960s and 1970s. However, it isn’t the old work that’s on display, it’s a composition of work that was completed twenty years after the fact. I kind of start to feel like I’m watching VH1 and some washed up celebrity has a new series, an attempt to revitalize a fallen career. (Think Flava Flav) And now, in a different way, I’m watching these re-runs, but in art form. It’s not because I’m thoroughly enthralled, but because it’s just entertaining enough to where I feel content. Content, not excited.

Nothing about this exhibit really excites me, and for this I’m probably being too harsh. I don’t know a thing formally about art, besides the one art history course I took at LMU. I’m one of those girls who had a Van Gogh copy in their room in high school and thought it actually meant something.

Several pieces though, were actually interesting. While they were not breathtaking, I appreciated them because they offered some deviation from the status quo. One white and gold piece looked incredibly expensive, and when I read the materials used for its creation, I found that it was made with styrofoam and painted with the same kind of paint that is used on cars. It looked chic and modern, and was made with the same kind of material that pads my overstock.com deliveries.

The title of the piece is “Mercy.” Mercy for what or whom I ask? Initially I think it may be in reference to the environment; the artist is using recycled materials and therefore lessening his “footprint.” However, my sarcastic side soon emerges, and I chuckle to myself. What if he means to ask for mercy on the exhibit itself? Or specifically for this piece of art? Maybe he too knows that many of these artists are past their prime, and therefore I should have more compassion.

I can’t help but think these thoughts though. The exhibit is entitled, “What’s New, Pussycat?” Well, Pussycat, from the looks of things, not much.

--Hailey Hannan

Battle: Los Angeles Trailer

This is the trailer for the film "Battle: LA". Some of my students were talking about the movie in class on Monday and how "great" of a film it was. Apparently I live under a rock because I hadn't heard of it prior to their discussion. "Miss Hailey" they whined, "you have to see it!"

Even in the trailer there are some authentic shots of Los Angeles, especially the Santa Monica area. Has anyone seen this? Looks pretty violent to me... What do you think?

Fabulous Forum

My palms are beyond sweaty. I have no idea what I should be doing, and my mother is a horrible teacher. She screams, “For the love of God, Hailey, you need to drive like an athlete! Your sister is going to be so much better than this!” The car abruptly starts and stops with my novice toe-taps; I’m only fifteen years old and I desperately want to learn how to drive. So desperately that I even solicit help from my melodramatic mother. It really shouldn’t be this hard, I keep telling myself. It’s a wide open parking lot surrounded by a circular building. There aren’t even any other cars to hit. Suddenly I see flashing lights approaching us, and I am on the brink of tears. I learned how to drive in the Great Western Forum’s parking lot.

People think Los Angeles has no history; this is both true and false. We don’t have the history of an ancient Mesopotamian civilization, but we do have some value accrued to places, even if the places have only been around for less than 100 years. The Forum constitutes as one of these places. Home to the Lakers during the 1980s when they won 5 NBA championships, the Forum was the place to go to watch basketball among other things. Half of the allure of attending a Laker game is to look out for celebrities. Famous concerts took place at the Forum during the 1960s,1970s, and 1980s (and maybe there is an argument for the 1990s and beyond as well); performances like Elvis, Elton John, Bob Dylan, and the Jackson 5 all played to sold-out shows at the Forum. It even hosted the basketball portion of the 1984 Summer Olympics. But now, now being circa 2005, I’m driving in the deserted parking of a place that no longer is fabulous. I mean, we came here because we knew it would be empty. So what happened?

The Staples Center is what happened; the Lakers, Clippers, Sparks, and Kings all moved to the new downtown venue. Now the sold-out concerts are played there, too. And the Forum is now owned by Faithful Central Bible Church, a large congregation that hosts services at the venue on Sundays. It’s still open for concerts and other events, both secular and not, but I was hard-pressed to find a performance there that I wanted to see, let alone who the performers lined up to play this venue even were. This kind of embodies who we are as a city; a bigger and better option came along, and the masses flocked to it. We tend to forget about spaces that mean something to us, because another space has been fabricated to mean something more. Should I just accept this as healthy change? Am I allowed to mourn for the loss of the “Fabulous Forum?”

Pondering these questions leads me back to the flashing lights that fifteen year old me sees as we drive through the parking lot. A man who works for the forum’s security sternly tells us that this is private property and we need to leave immediately. I’m relieved for two reasons. I no longer have to practice driving with my certifiably insane mother. But more importantly, I’m pleased that someone, even if it’s a lone security officer, is still protecting the Forum.

--Hailey Hannan

photo: the erstwhile "fabulous fourm" via hockeyarenas.com

What's In A Boost?

L.A.’s initial growth comes from people who oppressed a marginalized group for financial gain and power. While this finding is unsettling, it is hardly original and at least as Angelenos we can pride ourselves in the fact that we did not begin this trend. In his book, Imagining Los Angeles, David Fine, in delves into this idea more in-depth, “The old Californios, the ‘first families’ who held the land grants, were unable to defend their claims in Anglo courts – unable to pay the legal fees much less to understand the laws that were disenfranchising them – and so lost their lands, piece by piece, to Yankee speculators,”(Fine 6-7). And after these “first families” are eliminated, the possibilities for this space called Los Angeles become literally limitless. For the love of God, we brought irrigation to the desert. Railroads initially created a way for Americans to get to the city, “the Southern Pacific in 1876 and the Santa Fe in 1886,” coupled with, “…land speculators, subdividers, city boosters, and railroad tycoons,”(Fine 4) created a mixture from which Los Angeles did not have a chance to be unsuccessful.

What I personally found to be so interesting is the fact that while the railroad brought people to the city, it is the invention of the automobile that designed the city’s layout. Fine writes, “In contributing to the decentralization of the city, the automobile diminished the central city’s hegemony,”(Fine 9). The same invention that plagues our freeways now is also responsible for the disjointed nature of Los Angeles and its surrounding suburbs. The fact that the city is so disjointed from its genesis speaks to the fact that Los Angeles can still be considered as divided. People from the South Bay dread having to go five miles East, because God forbid they find themselves in Hawthorne. Celebrities that live in the Hollywood Hills never venture to downtown; exceptions include filming and soup kitchen publicity stunts.

Another interesting development for the city is also probably the most well-known: the development of the film industry. The obvious reasons for this include: “the region had plenty of sunshine, open space for outdoors shooting, and a varied landscape,”(Fine 12). The final reason is particularly sinister, and contributes to the over-all “scummy nature” of Angelenos. Los Angeles, “also had the appeal of being 3000 miles away from the Edison patents,”(Fine 12). First we remove landowners from the city by means of forcefully taking their land, and then our major industry exploits the ingenuity of one man’s developments.
But remember, to me, Los Angeles is like a younger sibling; I can trash on it as much as I want but the minute a “non-local” wants to say horrible things about it, I feel the need to defend this city. I feel compelled to defend the boosters, the tycoons, the celebrities. But I also feel like we can’t turn a blind eye to all the horrible crap that is a part of our city’s development. So what’s the “fair” thing to do? I guess it means just loving Los Angeles for what it is and for what it has become, while acknowledging the glaring faults as well.

--Hailey Hanann

caption: I-8 Meets California 125
credit: Allan Ferguson, flickr creative commons

You Can't Hide Behind the Palm Tree

IF you're from Los Angeles, the image of the palm tree is both completely alluring and cliché. However, the palm tree in fact isn’t a tree at all; it’s actually more closely related to the grass species. This large lawn tossing, this giant grass tree, embodies the city in more ways than we’d ever stopped to consider. Standing erect, shallow roots intact, the palm tree towers over residential areas snubbing its nose (in this case fronds) at those beneath it. Painfully slender, this enormous shoot of grass stands erect and above the frumpy oak and average maple. Its larger than life quality has fully become the personality of LA. But, I think its done so in all the wrong ways.

Assuming that the palm “tree” represents the shallow nature of Los Angeles, we’d have to agree that Los Angeles is superficial in the first place. I’d have to agree: people cut each other off in traffic, give each other the finger, neighbors shoot each other over colors or street corners, and “industry” divas will rip out even the most expensive extensions for the allure of fame. We live in a city where “please” and “thank you” are rarities, and the only apologies ever uttered are “Sorry, I’m not sorry.” We don’t interact with our neighbors, we shut our doors and lock the deadbolt because we fear our neighbors. Just yesterday a student at Gardena High School critically injured two of his classmates when a gun in his backpack accidentally went off in class. Reporters scornfully ask whether the high school freshman will be tried as an adult, why the school didn’t have metal detectors, and what the chances are of survival for the two injured. However, did anyone stop to ask why the student felt the need to bring the gun to school in the first place?

Interestingly enough, we cannot find salvation under a palm tree; the leaves are dwarfed in comparison to the trunk. You can even say the tree is slender enough that you can’t hide behind it either. Maybe this image gives us more than what we originally would have thought. We can’t hide from our superficial notions, our traffic, or our lack of humanity for one another. And maybe so many people come to Los Angeles because they want a place to hide.

--Hailey Hanann

photo: "Little Palms, Mid-Town"
credit: L.G.