Linda Jay, trial junkie, attends trial of the man who killed her daughter ... Cheech Marin's Chicano art strategy ... Jimmy Webb will finally play MacArthur Park at MacArthur Park! ... new documentary on Llyn Foulkes, 78-year old Young Turk ...
'It's taped?!' Off-Ramp releases script of supposedly ad-libbed fundraising spot
DYLAN: I’m Dylan Brody, humorist, storyteller and head commentator for KPCC’s Off Ramp.
RABE: You’re not the head commentator.
DYLAN: Fine. Long before I started appearing on KPCC I was an avid listener, a genuine fan of the informative news and talk programming during the week and the wonderfully funny stuff that runs on the weekends. That’s why I was KPCC’s favorite listener.
RABE: You weren’t the favorite.
DYLAN: I might have been the favorite.
RABE: We don’t have favorites. We love all our listeners equally.
DYLAN: Fine. My point is, the station provides a lot of great programming and it does it all without running commercials. So take a minute to do your part to keep it on the air. As control over the commercial media outlets continues to consolidate, we need public stations like KPCC more than ever. And remember, I’m not only the president of KPCC, I’m also a member.
RABE: You’re not the president of KPCC.
DYLAN: Fine. Can I say “Chanteuse?”
RABE: Do you sing?
DYLAN: No.
RABE: Then, no.
DYLAN: Can I say, “Call now and make your contribution?”
RABE: Yes. You can say that. But add the website.
DYLAN: Become a sustaining member of KPCC at kpcc.org, or by calling 866-888-5722.
RABE: And say thank you, Dylan.
DYLAN: Thank you, Dylan.
Photos: 'Golden Rule' Instagram challenge winner captures Holland's countryside
Angelenos would be jealous of the sights Linda Heidema passes during her Netherlands work commute.
Heidema's job as a social worker often takes her through Holland's northern countryside.
When she sees a beautiful scene through her car window, Heidema pulls over to take a picture.
See more pictures from Linda Heidema's Instagram feed on AudioVision.
You can find her on Instagram as @lindalaughs.
Heidema is the winner of our most recent Instagram challenge with Instagram Lovers Anonymous. The theme was Golden Rule.
Linda Heidema didn't have an interest in photography until joining Instagram less than a year ago. Now, she has more than 3,700 followers. She has two different accounts for her 1:1 and 16:9 cropped pictures of snow-dappled trees and herds of swans.
In captions and comments, Heidema refers to her followers as "friends."
"Sometimes they are friends, really," Heidema said. "I've met some really cool people through Instagram who also live in Holland and we visit each other."
She lives with her husband and three sons in Groningen, a city two hours north of Amsterdam.
"Holland has a lot to offer," she said. "It has beautiful cities, beautiful culture, beautiful nature and agriculture."
"I like living here, but I also would like to visit the states and California," she said. "That would be great."
At last: 'MacArthur Park' songwriter Jimmy Webb takes his signature song to MacArthur Park
The song April in Paris has been sung in Paris, in April. Moonlight in Vermont has been sung in Vermont, at night. But Jimmy Webb, the man who wrote MacArthur Park, one of the most evocative, moving, talked-about songs ever, has never sung the song in LA's MacArthur Park.
This gross oversight will be remedied next weekend. To kick off the Levitt Pavilion's season of free concerts, Jimmy Webb, who is now 66, will be singing and playing at MacArthur park on Saturday, June 15th.
Jimmy Webb joins Off-Ramp host John Rabe on the line from New York.
Webb's performance marks just the beginning of a long, promising summer of concerts from Levitt Pavillion, including performances at MacArthur Park and Pasadena from artists like Thee Midniters, Buyepongo, Linda Perhacs and more.
Cheech Marin: getting Chicano art the respect it deserves will mean Chicanos opening their wallets
On Wednesday, May 29 at the Koplin Del Rio Gallery in Culver City, Cheech Marin, the comedian, actor, and Chicano art advocate, led a fascinating and provocative panel discussion about the tidal wave that is Chicano art. It included Dr. Susana Smith Bautista and artists Einar & Jamex de la Torre, Shizu Saldamando, John Valadez, and Harry Gamboa Jr.
We'll be airing an excerpt this weekend on Off-Ramp, but meantime, here's the whole recording, plus an essay on the exhibition by Dr. Bautista. Artifex is up through July 6.
Five Latino artists that come from different generations, geographic conditions and cultural influences, but all with one thing in common; a commitment to artistically explore cultural artifacts that signify identity. These artifacts can be anonymous remnants from second-hand stores, found and used by Einar and Jamex de la Torre, or more personal artifacts such as the clothing, jewelry, and tattoos on the figures drawn by Shizu Saldamando, or John Valadez’s cautious use of Chicano artifacts like the low-rider car and the Virgin.
Harry Gamboa Jr.’s characters in his photographs, films, and performances have become artifacts of a new Chicano culture that is being constantly (re)created through the organic evolution of Chicano artists themselves. These five artists both appropriate cultural artifacts and create new ones through their artistic vision that reflects their immersion in contemporary culture as well as their desire to contribute to the global visual discourse.
Notions of identity, culture, and community emerged in the 1960s and ‘70s during the civil rights movement with the Brown Berets and the Chicano Moratorium. Today in 2013 the world has changed. Artists are no less conscious of their identity, but that identity is a much larger assemblage of where they were born, where they have lived, where they exhibit, where they travel, and who they meet.
To say that the de la Torre brothers are Mexican artists says nothing about their formative years in Orange County or their current experience of the U.S./Mexico border region that they cross regularly between their San Diego studio and their home in Ensenada. Younger artists like Saldamando don’t approach identity as monolithic, but rather as a remix of pop culture, fine arts, west side, east side, Mexican, Asian, and more. Gamboa Jr. started to use his camera in the 1970s to document the urban Chicano experience in his subversive style, and continues to do so as that same experience changes, even as means of subversion and assumptions of normalcy change. Valadez created a cultural iconography drawn from his neglected world to empower Chicanos, but today that world is no longer confused and angry, and creates its own iconographies.
Latino culture in the 21st century is about reflection, creation, and contribution of new ways of thinking, new ideas, and new media. The artists participate concurrently in a local and a global world, on a Latino and an American field, and in high and low cultural spaces. We cannot negate the continued presence of identity, social issues, ethnicity, history, and culture, but we can try to go beyond to focus on what really matters; the work as contemporary arte factum.
PHOTOS: South LA mom, activist and 'trial junkie,' attends trial of her daughter's killer
Last year, Off-Ramp told you about Linda Jay of South Los Angeles, who’s been fascinated by the justice system ever since her stint as a court clerk in the '80s. Jay made it a point to attend as many high-profile cases as she could. Like the 1992 trial of the LAPD officers charged in beating Rodney King.
“As soon as we got to the courthouse, we saw reporters run out there, coming to their cars, saying ‘we got a verdict, we got a verdict, the verdict is in, we’ve got a verdict!’ My heart starting pumping, adrenaline rushing and I said ‘I want to be in that courtroom, just to see what was going to go down," Jay said.
Jay could stand back and watch the trials of O.J. Simpson, Michael Jackson, and Conrad Murray, but she put her hobby on hold this year because she had to attend a trial that hit very close to home.
Last year, Linda Jay said a trial was coming up that she’d been waiting for: the prosecution of the man accused of murdering her 16-year-old daughter, Britany Johnson.
“She was murdered in 2007 - gang violence," Jay said. "So that’s coming up and that’s going to take a lot of me, but I’m gonna be there.”
If Jay sounded strong last year, that feeling had melted away by April 22 of this year, the first day of the trial.
“This is personal and I don’t feel too good about it," she said. "I’m a little nervous. Apprehensive. Today is just a little rough, not feeling the best, but I’m just trying to keep my spirits up.”
Jay waited outside the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts Building with an entourage. More than a dozen friends and family are wearing purple polka-dot ribbons to support Jay and her daughter, Britany. The past 24 hours have been rough.
“I went to three different churches just to let people know what I’m going through and they were praying for me," Jay said.
This trial was slated to start last summer, but it got delayed...again and again.
“I’m just so ready. I’m past ready," said Rose Johnson Brown, Jay's sister. "It’s been like five years and that’s a long time to wait to see justice done. And I just want this guy to see his trial, and let him have his due, and then lock him away.”
The family finally makes it inside the courtroom. In her celebrity trial days, Jay sat in many courtrooms when the audience was overflowing; sometimes she had to win a lottery to get in. But the benches in this courtroom are mostly empty -- just Jay, her friends and family, and a few police officers.
In court, Jay stands to talk about her daughter, Britany. She says she was beautiful and loving. And a rebel. She was getting good grades in school, but she’d also befriended some gang members Jay shared a mother’s day card that Britany wrote to her:
“You always been there through the good and the bad. You even took time to help me when I was down and sad. That’s why I want to thank you ‘cause you didn’t have to do it. I know I hurt you and lost your trust. But I’m so sorry I blew it. From your baby, your shining star. I will always love you no matter where you are.”
Tears started rolling down Jay’s cheeks as she told the story of her daughter’s death.
It was late July, 2007. Sixteen-year-old Britany was hanging out one afternoon with friends - some of whom were gang members - when she was shot outside a donut shop on the corner of Manchester and Normandie in South L.A. Britany died in the hospital the next day.
The prosecutor told the jury witnesses saw two men outside the donut shop with guns the day Britany was shot - a bigger man and a smaller man – but they didn’t see their faces. That was it for almost exactly four years, until, in July 2011, police got a lucky break.
They brought a 29-year-old named Miller Posey into the LAPD’s 77th Division police station on a gun charge. Detectives knew Posey was a suspect in Britany’s murder, but never questioned him before. First, detectives said Posey denied knowing anything about the shooting. Then, he said he had heard about it , but denied being there. Then they said he admitted he was present at the time of the shooting and even had a gun. But Posey - who may have been “the bigger man” witnesses saw at the shooting - told detectives “the smaller man” with him was the shooter.
The smaller man was supposedly David Means, who was shot to death in Las Vegas a couple months after Britany.
Police arrested Miller Posey, and two years later, he too is in the courtroom in a charcoal gray suit, his head down, speaking quietly to his attorney.
The prosecution said Posey, a member of the 99 Mafia gang, may have shot Britany in retaliation for a killing by a rival gang.
After 3 days, the case goes to the jury. Linda Jay has been waiting.
“I just want this man to never be able to walk outside prison again," she said.
After a few hours of deliberations, the jury files back into the courtroom, and tells the judge they’ve reached a unanimous verdict. Miller Posey is guilty of first degree murder in Britany Johnson’s death. Linda gets to face him in court.
“Look at you, Miller Posey," she said. "Where did this get you? Killing someone and taking a life doesn’t get you anywhere. I’ve been waiting for this day for six years to talk to you directly. Now you have to face God now. I’m not wishing that someone kill you. I’m not wishing for the death penalty for you. I always tell my children and the neighborhood children, what goes around comes around and you gonna reap what you sow."
Posey, now 31-years-old, gets 50 years to life in jail.
“It took four years for you to be arrested, but I can sleep at night now," Jay continued. "But I just wonder how you going to be able to sleep at night now that you’re going to be in prison, now that you’re off the street."
Jay turned to the judge.
"I’m so glad that he won’t be able to kill another mother’s child," she said.
A few days later, Jay is laying out tablecloths under a tent in her front yard. She has invited her family and friends to eat a dinner of greens, chicken and pasta to celebrate the end of the trial.
“I didn’t realize it was such a load off my shoulder," she said. "I didn’t even realize I was going to be this happy. I just feel like it was delayed. Maybe 40 hours later, I just started feeling relief."
Jay said now that Britany has justice, she can rest in peace. There’s a sheet cake on the table with the girl’s picture printed on top. It says “We got justice for Britany.”
Family friend Herman Henderson said he’s glad Linda didn’t give up on getting justice for Britany... but he feels bad at the same time. Not just for their family, but for Miller Posey’s family, too.
“He got 50 years. Man, that’s it. That itself is a terrible thing," he said. "So justice got to prevail in the case, but you know, both families lose.”
The past six years waiting for justice comes full circle when Linda Jay and her friends join hands to pray before they begin their meal.
Jay said now that she’s found justice for her daughter, she’s ready to observe high-profile trials again. She hopes to make it to Florida this month to watch the trial of George Zimmerman, who killed 17-year-old Trayvon Martin last year.
Artist Llyn Foulkes, once neglected Young Turk, in new documentary, 'One Man Band'
6/5/2014 UPDATE: The Downtown Independent is screening Tamar Halpern's documentary "One Man Band" through June 12. And you can bring beer into the theater!
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In February, Off-Ramp interviewed Llyn Foulkes, a neglected Young Turk artist of the 1960s who didn’t find his place in the LA pantheon until well after her turned 70. The occasion for our interview was the Hammer Museum’s career retrospective of Foulkes. Now, there’s a new film documentary about him, screening June 20 and 22 at the LA Film Festival.
What happens after the happy ending? It’s a question that rarely occurs to us in America, least of all in media-centric L.A., where happy endings are manufactured by the yard.
Llyn Foulkes, the formerly obscure, currently renowned LA artist and musician whose bas-relief canvases can take well over a decade to complete. After forty odd years of toil, Foulkes’ happy ending came in 2009, when a group show at the Hammer Museum about unsung LA artists vaulted him to fame, age 74.
The revival has extended to Foulkes' musical side-project too, as sole proprietor of the Machine, a massive percussive art project that resembles a drum kit or a xylophone the way the Hollywood sign resembles a business card. Same components, utterly different effect.
(VIDEO: Llyn Foulkes Tunes Up His Machine for a Photographer, by RH Greene.)
And now comes a documentary about Foulkes’ painstaking artistic method, called Llyn Foulkes: One Man Band, directed by his friend Tamar Halpern and her friend Chris Quilty. Tamar’s long journey with her film mirrors Foulkes’ creative process in more ways than one.
The Llyn Foulkes of One Man Band is a Lear figure, raging against the dying of the light in a world that has deprived him of his legacy. Now, 78, he’s fascinating, difficult and eccentric—a cantankerous solo act and a changeling, so afraid to be pinned down that it’s a mystery even to Tamar Halpern why Foulkes let her make a film about him.
According to Halpern, Foulkes’ contrarian impulse was even activated by the film itself, when he changed a habit of decades after seeing it depicted onscreen. Instead of traveling to Tommy's for his burgers, he switched to In-n-Out.
One ghost that haunts One Man Band is the failure of Foulkes’ second marriage, as depicted in The Awakening, a major canvas that was exhibited twice in forms Foulkes destroyed and revised before completing it in 2012, after almost two decades of work. As a metaphor for unresolved love, The Awakening and its process are riveting. And like most metaphors, it didn’t solve a thing.
The art market loves Foulkes now, and his prices are way up. But music is Foulkes main pursuit these days. On canvas, he works in depth—forced perspectives are central to his aesthetic. And in old age, Foulkes is losing the very faculty he needs to create his art. He's suffering from macular degeneration.
So: What happens after the happy ending? The story goes on—twisting, changing. And the fortunate ones among us find someone to tell that story to, and sometimes even someone to tell it with and for.
RIP: Jack Vance, 96, sci-fi master craftsman
70 years ago, a young merchant seaman looked up at the stars sprawling across the heavens about the Pacific Ocean and decided to write stories about them. Thus began a spectacular voyage of the mind that ended May 26, with the death of Jack Vance at the age of 96.
Vance, nearly the last of a great generation of American sci-fi and fantasy writers, had untold millions of fans, and wrote so many books that their exact number seems uncertain. There were over 50 science fiction or fantasy titles (the categories overlapped in his work); at least 11 mysteries and several less categorizable books, including a very late autobiography. Say, 70 in all. That’s more than one book for every year of his working life. He saw himself not as a “capital W” Writer, but as a craftsman building books the way a master shipwright might have turned out beautiful yachts. Indeed, for most of his life, sailing was one of his favorite pastimes.
He was influenced by a few writers—1920s favorites like James Branch Cabell and PG Wodehouse and early Weird Tales contributors like Clark Ashton Smith and HP Lovecraft. He influenced multitudes in and out of the genres he flourished in.
One of these was fantasy great Neill Gaiman, who said Vance "was elegant, intelligent; each word felt like it knew what it was doing ... funny but never, even once nudges you in the ribs.” Bestselling writer Michael Chabon told the New York Times, in a 2009 profile, that Vance compiled: “a blend of European refinement with brawling, two-fisted frontier spirit.”
To those of us who discovered him nearly 60 years ago, he introduced a droll, ornate, highly literate style so elaborate that one Vance devotee compiled a Jack Vance dictionary: “From Ahulf to Zipangote.” Terms of his own invention were interspersed with gloriously obscure usages like Calligynics, clevenger, cresset, squalm, insidiator, and fuscous. Plus for good measure, recycled words like deodand, an obsolete legal term which in Vance describes a lethal hybrid of human and wolverine.
All of Vance’s words knew what they were doing, describing human activities in planets and societies ranging from thousands to hundreds of millions of years into the future. Yet the human activities described were thoroughly down to Earth—mostly those of picaresque vagabond rogues significantly less smart than they think they are. With names like Magnus Ridolph and Cugal the Clever, they undertake droll and frequently fraudulent quests like those of the trickster characters of world folklore.
Vance wrote several cycles of imaginative fiction over his 67 productive years. Some of his individual interstellar works—Big Planet and Emphyrio in particular--contain some of his finest sociological and anthropological insights. But the cycle that preoccupied him from the wartime beginning to nearly the end was his Tales of the Dying Earth, set when the sun is about to fade to black. At the very end of time, Vance implants the primal joker of picaresque humanity.
The result is a vaunting feat of imagination that also has a truly nasty sense of fun.
(Commentator Marc Haefele covers literature, art, politics and more for Off-Ramp. In his glorious past, he edited Jack Vance's Emphyrio, and several books by Philip K. Dick.)