Talking With the Street Folk

A piece I wrote on Lydia Emily for the KCRW blog, which can be found here.

Lydiaemily is an L.A. street artist, part of an adventurous movement comprised mostly of graphic artists that manipulate Photoshop. But Lydiaemily is a folk artist in this scene and has risen up by analog. She doesn’t even own a copy of Photoshop, relying on Kinko’s to convert her iPhone photos of finished pieces into B&W images. Once converted, sheets are printed, painted over and tucked into the trunk of her car, next to sticky paint brushes and a bucket containing a coagulated water and flour mix. Later it’s all whisked away on a Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, chaperoned by Lydiaemily to be pasted up across the city in the wee hours of the night.

Lydiaemily paints oil on canvases sizes 24”X36” with the backgrounds covered in meticulously cut slices of the Sunday New York Times. These are then glazed on to her canvases, framing her realistic portraits of world political players and political themes. In one sentence, written across the base of the image, floats to-the-point commentary calling out their political deeds. They are bold statements and have the effect of, “A-ha! Got you!” as Lydiaemily paints the news stories behind the news stories. She forces a challenging political commentary onto a public canvas.


Although a gallery artist for over 15 years, it was rare when a gallery would hang one of her political pieces, traditionally selecting her images more pastoral and innocent. Her political portraits were protests but were often misunderstood. Not long after a wary gallery owner took down an early version of her portrait of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad amidst complaints from collectors, his image painted on top of the words to his disturbing 9/11 UN speech, did Lydiaemily take her first walk into Kinko’s, introduce herself and leave with several bundles tucked under her arm of 11”X14” and 8-1/2”X11” color copies of her portraits of Ann Coulter, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Hamid Karzai and her powerful, “The Truth May Not Set You Free,” portrait of Julian Assange. Each of them went up on the street. After that, Lydiaemily as a street activist went viral and she became known. Today, in only a matter of months, the galleries want her back, she’s up in new ones and she’s receiving international accolades, including her participation in the upcoming Milan show, “Inner-Walls,” the first women-only world wide street art exhibit in Italy.

The on-the-edge method, the accessibility and response to her messages and the support within the street art community have been a positive experience for Lydiaemily. She’s saddened by what she observes as unnecessary factions in the community, insider arguing between different cliques. “There’s a very serious street art community. Most people really look out and really hope that each other will succeed. Some don’t,” says Lydiaemily. “Take any group of beings and put them in a community where they’re all trying to have spot on a wall, where there are no rules, and there will be fighting.” She believes if the artists unify, they could rise to great heights, “If we’re all hungry and excluded and taking our money and time and we’re all risking our freedom in the eyes of the law and breaking out onto rooftops – if we all have this same type of goal, what is there to fight about? ...[we] could be worldwide, the amount of work that we could get done would be unstoppable and what keeps [us] stoppable is the arguing. The type of pieces the community could do would be incredible.”

To date, Lydiamily’s been in street scene shows both locally and nationally, including Lab Art Los Angeles’ most recent, “Miss Danger On the Loose – A Female Street Art Exhibit.” Over 600 people attended opening night. By the end of the evening, empty spaces spotted the walls, representing the sales of Lydiaemily portraits that went home with collectors. She participates in collaborations with her peers, trading work with each other with what she refers to as, “the same excitement as kids trading baseball cards.” Her Winston Churchill portrait garnered attention from Churchill’s estate and a print now sits with his family. For Lydiaemily though, the inclusion of one of her Obama “Hope” Bombs in a Huffington Post L.A. street art pictorial has been her greatest thrill.

Lydiaemily is presently on view at Lab Art on La Brea through August 18 and will be participating with solo and collaborative pieces in the, “L.A. vs. War,” show, recognizing the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks as well as Milan’s upcoming first ever women-only world wide street art exhibit in Italy, “Inner-Walls.” Her art is also on view throughout the streets of L.A. and San Francisco and the web site, http://www.lydiaemily.com/.

Google It

Every Day

I've always had the same dream that became a great fantasy.

One day I realized it was probably a fine idea.

Trish. None Other.

We believed Trish’s beautiful voice of Broadcast was what raised her above our common fragility. It’s possible that her tragic and sudden passing holds the source of what made us all lovers of her and of Broadcast too. She was simply sublime. We believed she surpassed our humanness, but last night she succumbed to pneumonia. We are heartbroken. We miss her. We cannot imagine the loss her family and loved ones must know today. Our thoughts are with them. We miss you Trish. We thank you. Rest in peace.

Jandek is NOT a Unicorn.

Technically, I want to see a unicorn. More importantly though, I want to see Jandek. How about tonight? Sure. That's doable. So I'm cool about the unicorn thing.

Whoa. I Wrote Abour Ed Ruscha.

KCRW's edited version of this article is posted here.


“How did I not know Ed Ruscha was at the station recording a Guest DJ Project?! That is so cool!” This is what I shouted to Rachel, KCRW's Music Publicist, as I high-fived her over this latest Guest DJ Project.

As KCRW’s Drive Director, I’m part of the small group that has a day job at the station, so I get to enjoy the wide array of guests that visit KCRW to participate in our programming. Ed Ruscha is a significant icon creating significant icons. He’s a major contributor to the birth of the Pop Art movement. He’s an artist. Ed Ruscha visiting KCRW’s Guest DJ project… this is big news.


Ruscha works with minimal and simple images. Viewers are left contemplating a delicate afterglow behind the impressions of his work. Constructed with the same minimal principles, hearing Ruscha’s picks of Doo Wop, blues and folk makes sense. Of course it’s the music he grew up with but it’s also the music he chose to grow up with. These genres’ are composed with simple arrangements that produce organic, sincere and real music. Without pomp and artifice, people exist in the lyrics. Stories and a human element. I see this in Ruscha’s work. Stories, people and so much beautiful commentary in his artwork’s seeming simplicity – all ideas spoken with just a few visual notes from artist-songwriter Ruscha.

It’s exciting to hear the musical Top 5 picks from an artist like Ruscha. His work exposes him as an outstanding thinker with revolutionary contributions to our visual language. A list of favorites like these offers a peek for onlookers to connect intimately with such a mind’s inspirations. It’s a benevolent paparazzi. Which makes the small tale of his last pick even sweeter.



Ruscha’s final song selection was one of his son’s, also an artist and a fairly active DJ, Eddie Ruscha Jr. He discusses the innocent song naming process that also involved his grandson’s participation. Listening to the story, it’s hard not to acknowledge that Ruscha’s proud of his family and loves the sanctity and intimacy that art creates, the tale closing with, “…and that's how these things get done.” Things are made without affect. These things simply exist and we can play with naming them. This final inclusion is the humbling pick. The most human pick. The artistry. Sharing the song and story with our Project is touching and the feast of why these Projects are so engaging. Another simple masterpiece from Ed Ruscha, brought to you by KCRW’s Guest DJ Project.

Here's To The End of Hiatus and The Promise of Reunions.

From Here to Nowhere

For many years, I've wanted to live at The Brewery. And I will be starting December.

We'll live in an area referred to as the Garden Path. Garden District? Hm. I'll call it the Garden Path District.

We stopped by for a visit this week and the train yard behind the site was making noise. Organic, rolling metals, tracks and mechanicals. I imagined men with grease on their faces, hands and coveralls, shoving coal and levers to push these steel symphonies through America. I saw Carl Sandburg. And the trees blew. It was a very windy night in Los Angeles.

Half of our home will be for living and the other half will be for living. The half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus and the other half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus. One side will have a bathroom, washer/dryer, bed. The other half will not.

Sartre the Unicorn.

It's another wonderful Friday afternoon and everything is exciting. I'm going to write a thesis, encoraging lively discourse from learned halls and hallways. I'll get a PhD. I'll curate new exhibitions, indoctrinating creativity into our supermarkets. Finally. Omaha will get why it's important to recycle and that Obama is not Muslim and if he were, it's OK. I'm going to inspire not only the children but the worn and educated. With my visionary humanities work, I will put an end to crime, to poverty and to hatred. I'm so excited.

On Sunday, I can't write one more paper. I can't afford a mortgage. My miracle Education Arts Unicorn seems so far away. I stare at her now, glowing on her mountain. All I can think, "What will I do?"

Breakfast of Champion.

I'm buying a loft. I feel like the jokes on me while at the same time, I'm going to get a tax benefit on my rent for once. That I like. I'll miss a garden but I'm not ready for a garden. The pressure is on to get into my photography, my musique concrète, my writing, my painting and you.

I'm going to not care. Every minute or so, I will not care. Again. Again. Again.

Type Slowly.

Expanded. Now with less rock critic.

Tab One:
It’s hard to say which came first, the indie rock scene or Pavement’s perfection of it, but in the early ‘90s Pavement arrived and their fast growing roster of heavy-on-the-pop post-punk tunes took hold and indie rock history followed. Crafty pop jams built with witty lyrics, treble-kicking guitars, plunging bass lines and Ringo-rivaling drums defined their sound. “Cut Your Hair,” their largest single from their bestselling, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, showcased their mastery of the low-fi edge, while their preceding Ode to a Cool Chick love song, “Summer Babe,” mastered distorted instruments for a chic and inviting pop anthem. But Pavement’s greatest mastery was their profoundly evolving sound. Take Wowee Zowee’s “Rattled By the Rush,” where gliding melodies present Pavement’s musical interpretation of a Nashville urban sprawl, all the while still retaining Pavement’s boyish charm.

Next up, Pavement’s profoundly evolving sound.

Tab Two:
The thing about Pavement is you come for their raucous attitude, but you stay for their welcoming veneer. When Wowee Zowee arrived, many fans wondered where the noisy jams went but weren't upset by the thoughtful orchestration of their new slower pace – somehow the music seemed friendlier. So as Pavement matured, so did their fans. Songs became melancholy with a psychedelic circus quality, as in, “Motion Suggests,” where keyboards slowly swirled amidst carefully syncopated guitars and washboard instruments or songs became brilliant as heard in Pavement’s Terror Twilight and Brighten The Corners. On these last albums, a great melding of passion and practice create spot-on pop music like the apparent love song, “Spit On a Stranger,” or the tuneful, “Shady Lane.”

Not Tonight.

Is there such a thing as "Going Out Burn-Out"? I have it.

After 20 some odd years of what I call, "aggressive going out," I have pretty much lost my ability to tolerate a show. I get bored. The consideration of going, the ticket dilema, the waiting to go, the day of, the outfit, the shoes, the loss of comfortable couch and early pajamas, the creeping fatigue, the drive over, the parking, the price of parking, the walking to avoid the fee of parking, the talking loudly so you can be heard and hear your compatriot, the compratriotism, the other compatriots at the show, their small-talk, the expensive diet coke, the opening band, your band, the threat of an encore, the audience and then finally, the joy of going home, so tired, it's the middle of the week, you have to go to work tomorrow, to a job where people eMail you how shitty you are, only because they don't believe you're a human, maybe even a nice girl, knows a few jokes, has a boyfriend who likes to play with her, enjoys writing, fumbling with music and learning to draw, photography too, wants nothing more than to do a good job in spite of you and not a hideous, emotionless, idiot droid.

Unless I can sit at the show.



So what do I like now? What do I want to do?

I like to read four books at once, fifth being a dictionary. I like to listen to music at home, comfortable and warm, leaving the pomp away. I like to watch baseball. I like to play cut and paste with musical programs. I like to doodle. I like to write. I like to look at photography. Hiking in parks oddly placed. Bicycles. I dream.