It seems a little superfluous that I’d find myself wanting to take a tour of downtown LA’s graffiti art, being that I already have walls at home that mysteriously bleed messages demanding that I move out… or at the very least wash my dishes for a change. Unless, of course, I’m mixing up real life and the movies once again.
I’d say I should probably look into that, but then Rosemary’s Baby mysteriously starts playing on my television and I begin to think that I already have called for help and no one but devil worshipers are going to come. My imaginary friend assures me that this is totally normal.
Regardless, I did find myself in possession of a Groupon for such an event, one I’m pretty sure I purposely purchased for myself; which managed to force me out of my loving, horror-house cocoon one sunny Sunday afternoon.
A small group of us met in front of a local coffee house, some of us LA residents, and others tourists from around the globe. Our guide was a lovely young woman who was not only an art historian, but smart enough to wear a nice straw hat to combat the ever-warming daylight. I really wished I would have worn a hat.
We set off on foot across an area that, overall wasn’t particularly large, but contained much to see within its few-to-several square blocks. Our guide not only pointed out specific sights, but was also able to connect some of the graffiti styles to contemporary art movements. And we learned about the difference between the commissioned works, which are often created in part to combat random tagging, and some of the more unauthorized pieces.
It ended up being an enjoyable tour of an area I haven’t had much chance to wander around in and explore before. And as we were walking back to our cars, a younger 20-something, the only other person besides myself who came alone, asked me to take her picture in front of some angel wings that had been painted on one of the buildings. She was cute and asked if I wanted her to do the same for me. I declined… but only because I thought it would anger the evil spirits I live with.
Ah… but sadly. This time the only displeasure expressed when I got home was my cat meowing for more food. Loudly.
Darn, I should have taken a silly picture with the wings after all.