Always West Of Lincoln

IF you have ever lost a friend to the Los Angeles Westside, you know somebody who has "gone a.w.o.l.” Characterized by phrases such as “Not tonight, Hollywood is just way too far.” Or, “Meet in Beverly HiIls? I would, but do you just want to do a beach day instead?” These phrases are a statment of the amazing places your friend has found just moments from his, or her, front door, not a comment on your friendship per-sey.

From the arts and shopping found on Main St. and Abbot Kinney, to the new Santa Monica Place and the water sports down at the marina, this all inclusive westside phrase "awol" broadens the smaller communities there-in and recognizes that some of us love it all, but simply don't want to drive. Harkening back to "Falling Down" or even our simple discussion of the hazards of traffic, it makes sense.

In many ways, the (about) seven blocks from Lincoln to the ocean really does marks a territory - it's like the county line with little cities within it's limits. Especially when looking for apartments, I regularly found less expensive units across the divide, but the areas were generally less savory.

I'm not sure the term is "officially" coined, but I've heard enough Angelenos throw the phrase around. It stuck with me and frankly, I was thrilled to hear others felt the same way! No animosity towards the rest of the city (obviously!) but with gas prices so high, and so much to do in this part of town - forget the sprawl for now, this will remain my little neighborhood. Gone fishing? Nope, just gone AWOL.

-- Sarah Kruberg
(photos: s.k.)

The SUBA House

BEAUTIFUL Saturdays in Venice Beach happen regularly. Painters, skaters, street vendors, mounted patrol and more all converging into one massive hub of colors and sounds accented by different smells, determined by the corner or local salesmen. From worn down apartments to multimillion dollar town houses, homes of all kinds line the boardwalk with interesting architecture- for the most part.

A few weeks ago I was wandering around and came upon this house. Obviously it's been there quite a while, its covered in graffiti and posters, the windows are boarded up and the doors are chained shut. I asked a few people near by if they knew about it - most said no and another began to tell me about his recent bender up in San Francisco. That was when I stopped talking to strangers (Everything you needed to know, you learned in Kindergarden, right?). But I digress.

At home later I Googled and found a few one other blogger generally asking about this house. Maybe I wasn't looking in the right places, but I find it incredibly curious that a place like this exists in such an environment. Right on the boardwalk, boared off, chained up and somehow no developer has come in to work their "magic". Seems fishy Suba...

-- Sarah Kruberg

Sarah Kruberg - Genius Loci

Arteries of Memory: Speedway

Speedway, Venice, ca. 1982.


I LIVED there in a first floor apartment in "Four Floors West," a building with front door on the boardwalk and the back door on Speedway, the alley parallel to the boardwalk. I think of it often when the marine layer rolls in, the street lamps haloed and the cold which otherwise wouldn't be so cold really getting to you because it's so damp. The memory brings an admixture of emotion—nostalgia, anticipation, fear, which follows the contours of what my life was then. I was a déclassé bohemian, living just one rung above the streets, sleeping on a sofa in a friend's apartment, improvising life in the way only kids in their early 20s can. I wanted to be a poet, in the Bukowski or Beat mode. I could have gotten into a lot more trouble than I did, but I did get into some, the echoes of which are still with me today. But anyway, there was a musician who became a mentor whose street nickname was "Cooch" (don't ask) and he would always tell me, "What dies in the ocean washes up on the shore, what's dying on the land comes to the sea." This was pre-gentrification Venice. Like Fante's Bunker Hill: most of us were poor, a lot of us were scheming to survive. The thing about living on the beach in LA is that the Santa Anas have to be really strong to blow all the marine air out. It could be 100 degrees in Pasadena, and foggy-chilly at the beach. And with the fallen human tableau of Venice at that time, the whole atmosphere was elegiac... breakers crashing unseen beyond the scrim of gray.

-- Ruben Martinez

(photo: Speedway Westminster Venice by Michael Dorausch via flickr creative commons)

The "Venice Sign"

THE iconic Venice sign in Windward Circle is (as of summer 2007) a grand exception to many who accuse Los Angeles of forgetting - of rebuilding and reinventing history to cover the blemishes left by the past.

Argue it’s cliché or iconic, it’s really a touch of both, but it this sign puts a bright white and glowing bow on my Venice experience – in the evenings and in the sunshine while grabbing a coffee at Café Collage.

The sign was an original (like 1905 original) Venice landmark. Then, sixty something years after the sign “disappeared” these fresh, and vaguely familiar (you’ve probably seen them on old postcards), letters again began glowing above Windward. Please note, the sign did not just “disappear” – rather I have found no source that can confirm what actually happened, but “it” happened the late 40’s or early 50’s.

In a meeting of the “Venice Arts Council” most participants affirmed the solar power initiative with the sign, and one contributor took this historic nostalgia to the next level and enthusiastically said, “Yes! Wonderful! Since you are using LEDs, why not make it with the bulbs that can change colors!”

I feel obliged to mention that anyone can “Adopt-A-Bulb” to support the historic restoration of the Venice Sign. Two hundred bucks makes you a sponsor for two years. Hopefully it doesn’t make a habit of these disappearing acts.

--Sarah Kruberg