Write drunk edit sober, that’s the old adage right? Well it’s 10:52 on Sunday morning… writing drunk is not something i would like to do at the moment. Maybe some cannabis or a cap. Never written on a mushroom before. That has nothing to do with what is to be told. Yesterday i was out in Pico Rivera, mostly hispanic town, well from what i notice only saw two white folks, so naturally i liked it. But i saw what looked like an abandoned bar with a dirt parking lot wedged in between two houses. My first gut instinct was to take a photograph but i didn’t, instead i pulled out this here laptop hopped on the trunk and proceeded to write. A few minutes after writing what i could call complete shit. I heard the screen door to the house next to me open then shut, If it were any other part of the country i would expect to hear a harsh “what are you doing here!! This is private property!” it has happened before.
I was just driving around aimlessly with the cameras just seeing what i could see when i saw a dilapidated building with “DO NOT TRESPASS” and “Private Property” signs stapled all over the building, that usually doesn’t stop me, but at this particular moment in time it did cause there was a road that lead somewhere i have never been. I parked the car off to the side of the building. (note: always back in, just in case you have to get the fuck outta dodge) I grabbed my cameras and set off down the road. It was a beautiful day, the clouds looked as if the could be plucked right from the sky and tossed in a bag of candy cotton. In other words it was a great day for some fucking photography and exploration. I walked down the gravel road. I had the nikon on one shoulder the AE-1 on the other and i can not remember if the k1000 was with me or not. I walked passed a thicket(2 dollar word) of trees which then exposed a gravel road of abandoned trailers and houses. A fucking field day! I proceeded to walk down the street, observing which ones should be captured and which ones should be left alone. I came across one that seem to be a old farm type house.. Or what's the word maybe a depression era? I don’t know but it got down and took a few photos and kept in moving. I was nearing the end of the dirt road, and the last house(trailer) on the left had a green early 90s’ F-150 in the driveway in front of it. This house was occupied.
I got down on a knee to snap a photo of all the trailers and houses in one shot, When i heard “HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!” i looked over calmly and held up the camera not saying a thing. “THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY!” i said cool got up slowly and proceeded to walk back down the gravel road of abandonment. I should add i was wearing Jordan 3s’(house shoes) black joggers and a Nike hoody and at the time i had a nappy fro… the picture is painted. I hope. I heard the screen door slam open once again, i still just kept walking and i heard the woman's voice bellow one more time “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!!” again i just kept walking the door slammed. And a few moments later it opened again, i was expecting to hear the sound of a gun go off and nothing else, but instead i heard the sound of a vehicle door opening and closing. Then the distinct roar of an a V-8 engine(oh what a lovely fucking sound!) not looking back i just kept it moving i know what it sounds like peeling out on gravel, as the engine roar got louder and louder i was now at my car and so was the truck. It was a kid driving the truck, i want to say about seventeen years old or so. “Hey what are you doing out here!” i could hear the fear in his voice, shit i could feel it. “just taking some photos man” “FOR WHAT?!?” “myself” i said as i opened my car door. “I’m gonna need your license plate number or i’m calling the cops.” without a hesitation i said “call the cops” which at the time was not a good time for a nigga to be saying call the cops. But i’ll be damned if i let some fuck take down my plate number go do who knows what and then say i did it.
He pulled out his phone and called the police and hearing his perspective of what i was doing, well it was halarious once again but it wasn’t i just sat there and thought to myself “this nigga.” But since the cops where coming and i figured it would take anywhere from five to thirty minutes i first thought well i should ditch the hoody and secondly, if i’m going to be waiting i might as well get my sketchbook out and work on my craft. I hopped up on the trunk of the car and proceeded to draw a bit and do a snapchat story every so often. I can not remember if it were a county sheriff that pulled up or an oklahoma city police car. It was on Sooner rd right next to that place called Sooner Corral or what ever the fuck it is, on the east side of the road. But the Officer of the Law pulled up and and the kid rushed up to him to tell his side of the encounter, i looked up, to acknowleged the cop and then went back to my sketchbook. Looking at the officer i would say he was somewhere around my age. Then he said “well you can tell he is an Artist, he is sitting there drawing” the cop then asked me to explain my side. The no tresspassing signs are on this partictular building nowhere else. So i thought don’t fuck with that building, the Fellow in the uniform scanned the building the dirt road and nodded his head. Then he told the kid if you don’t want people on your propertyy you have to have it to where it is noticable. Then the Uniformed fellow and myself talked about photography for a few minutes before setting off on my way.
It is an energy transaction if that woman would’ve came out and said “hey, this is private property.” or came with a different level more calm shit could’ve been different. I could’ve ended up bartering a painting for her allowing me to explore “her land” but it didn’t go down that way. I get it though. I don’t know what fucking meth heads she has to deal with out there. I don’t know what happened. Who is coming trying to buy up their land for Development purposes. I just don’t know.
I was sitting on the car in Pico Rivera when the screen door opened ans shut, i looked over and it was a shorter latino fellow, wearing a 49ers shirt and using a cane. He did not look that old to be using a cane but I don’t know how hard of a life he has lived. He waved me over. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a soft voice “you’re not one of those real estate guys are you?” i laughed and asked if i looked like one “no! The owner just asked me to keep in eye on his property.” This sparked my interest “are people coming out here trying to buy your land?” he nodded, Damn… when does it end? It’s a cycle. The way someone broke it down for me was, First the wealthy want to be on the outskirts of town then they move far out and once others start moving far out and the prices drop in the city well the move back to the city driving the prices back up forcing people out and again then once people start moving back in they go back out… the cycle… And it Always follows the ___.
Well this is where i leave you once again. I must go now, jokes are to be told today. I met a fellow artist who use to live in Downtown LA when it was “unsafe” and she said “there were no coffee shops at all! Just a bunch of abandoned warehouses and lofts that we lived in.” She Also Advised me to “Go Big.” the market shouldn’t dictate Art. So That’s what i will do… Until next time.