Traveled to the City of Angels for an evening of painting Nocturnes from the 14th floor of this "Security Building", built in 1909. We were off of 5th and Spring, lurking over the edge of the high rise, looking down on the dregs below.
Skidding down to Skidrow we happened upon a real Indian Alley. I've been to Jack Kerouac Alley with Robert Eringer where people come to honor the poets and writers of the Beat Generation like Ken Kesey, Alan Ginsberg, and Neal Cassady.
The slight difference between the two alleyways is that the Indian Alley was closed to customers, by a large security gate, adorned with Gold plated razor wire. Kerouac Alley was open for fulfillment and free flowing ideas.
Indian Alley was off limits and special. It even had a guardian angel Kachina doll as it's manity, welcoming the passing passers-by, and also waving them off; to keep moving on and beyond.
I climbed up the security gate to take a picture of the waving doll, only to arouse the suspicion and ire of two security guards who were shaking their "NO TRESPASSING" fingers at me. I smiled and waved; flicked my pic, skidded down the gate, and skedaddled down to Skidrow.
I'm not too sure the value or meaning behind this little piece of a twilight zone landscape; but it must be worth some wampum. It is a Surreal Mystery, waiting to be revealed, and there was irony to be found down there in that gutter. It is here; when looking up, the great Poet Laureate of Skidrow, Charles Bukowski, might have found fodder to ramble on about.
My imagination was sparked, in a gritty way.
Photos by Thomas Van Stein:
Indian Alley "Property of the People"
Kachina Princess and Razor Wire
Indian Alley: "No Man's Land?"
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