John Mooney Blows Moonlight Glass in Venice

By Greta Cobar

Venice has always fostered creativity, having drawn and inspired countless artists in endless media for over a hundred years. One such current story of bewildering, shining and colorful beauty is daily unfolding as John Mooney blows and sculpts glass, adding and mixing colors in infinite and never the same variations.

Putting color on canvas, building a castle out of sand, immortalizing a sunset with a camera or putting words on paper can, and often do, produce beautiful creations. But when Mooney puts two hundred pounds of powder in the 2100 degree furnace and draws out a fiery ball of molted glass that he then blows or sculpts into a bowl, a sea creature, or a light fixture, the transformation is one of overwhelming wonder towards the finished product and of admiration and respect for the craftsmanship that is required.

Watching him blow a bowl seemed like a series of thousands of perfectly timed and flawlessly executed movements. “Working with glass helps me become a non-perfectionist, it’s good therapy,” he said. Funny, I guess we are our own worst critics.

It takes hours, sometimes many hours, of an extremely intricate, split-second timely dance to bring to life the splendor of each piece. It also takes talent and consistent practice over a long period of time to master the art of blowing and sculpting glass. Mooney has been at it for 26 consecutive years, but he feels that “the lesson is never over, you have never learned everything.” And so he continues on his path, as if no other path was ever even possible. “The problem is keeping the furnace on,” he said regarding the expense of running his own studio, Moonlight Glass, and having to pay the $500 monthly gas bill to keep the glass molten and ready to play with. “I like the fun and freedom of playing with glass,” he said.

“Venice is cool, it’s the only place to live,” according to Mooney. Originally from Colorado, he spent his first spring break in Venice in 1983, and returned in ’86 after finishing his BA in Philosophy from Pomona College, in Claremont. It was during his last year at Pomona that he got the chance to take a glass-blowing class with renowned glass artist Therman Statom. Once in Venice, he worked with Richard Silver for ten years before building his own furnace and opening his own studio, Moonlight Glass, in 2000.

“Abbot Kinney created Venice to be how we like it, he made it for us,” is how Monney expressed the sense of belonging and the inability to fit in anywhere else that many of us feel towards the little town we call home. “Money is a really powerful thing – but so are people. I’m not going, I’m not gonna sell out,” he said when asked about the latest wave of gentrification taking over the neighborhood surrounding his studio. Located at 705 Hampton Dr., Moonlight Glass is only a stone-throw away from the recently-transformed-into-Rodeo Dr. Abbot Kinney Blvd. “Abbot Kinney would be happy seeing what I do,” Mooney said of his studio and his art.

Venice, Italy, is of course famous for its Murano glass, with a strong tradition going back several centuries. However, the small-studio glass blowing movement, which is different from the factory-like system still operating in Murano, originated right here in the US of A in the 1960s and exploded in the ‘90s and 2000s. It is these small studios, like the one Mooney is operating, that took glass from the decorative, mass-produced mentality still flourishing in Murano and opened the door to self-expression, experimentation, creativity and autonomy.

“I like the freedom – glass is free – there’s no limit to what you can do with glass,” according to Mooney. Not only did he purposely avoid the constricts of other media and of the Italian glass factories, but also those taught by conventional education. After just one glass-blowing class, Mooney proceeded to teach himself the art of glass. “In a school-like setting, people feed off each other and steal each other’s ideas. By not being submerged in art schools, I started fresh with my own ideas,” Mooney said.

And off he goes, to another full day spent blowing glass. His Moonlight Glass studio also serves as his showroom, with over 300 pieces available for admiration and purchase. The selection is almost as wide as the possibilities: tumblers, Betta fish, fish bowls on lit pedestals, his unique candlelit “Moon light bowls”, hanging lights, shot glasses, sea creatures, bowls, vases, and many, many more, each different and distinct like a non-mass-produced piece of art ought to be.

Following the stream of endless possibilities, the glass enthusiast is not limited to admiring or purchasing Mooney’s art pieces, but can also take one of the classes Mooney is teaching out of his studio. That offers not only the experience of working with molten glass next to the 2100 degree furnace, but also of walking away with two of your own original glass pieces of art.

When asked for a quick description of his endeavor, Mooney described it as a “life-long exploration of color and shape through glass and time.” And then he said that he wants to keep it going, because “there’s a lot to explore.”

To view a sample of Mooney’s artwork and find more information about taking a class, visit www.johnmooneyglass.com, call 310-399-0999 or stop by 705 Hampton Dr.

Jin Patisserie Makes Venice Sweeter

By CJ Gronner

It’s quite simple to celebrate Women in Venice, when there are so many wonderful, creative, business-savvy women making up our place in the world. I can think of more women-run businesses than I have fingers: Ananda, the Beauty Bungalows (Alexandra Wagner Skincare, Lavish Tan, Kelley Baker Brows, Stephanie Hobgood Hair all under one roof!), The Green House, Marla’s Cafe, Studio Surya Yoga, Bohemian Exchange, Capri, Casa Linda, Firefly/Kid Firefly, Floral Art, French Market Cafe, Hama Sushi, Huset, Just Tantau, Primitivo, Small World Books, Strange Invisible Perfumes, Trim, Urban Escape, Zingara … and that’s just off the top of my head. Strong women, each day making our community a great place to be. I was thinking about our Women’s Issue, and that fact that we could all use a little more sweetness in our lives lately, so I thought it was time to find out the story behind Kristy Choo’s Jin Patisserie.

There might not be a better place in the whole world for perfect chocolate than Jin Patisserie, and I can walk there. Serving up the most exquisite pastries and gorgeous, delicious chocolates since 2003 on Abbot Kinney. Jin is a true local treasure.

Kristy Choo was born and raised in Singapore. She always loved to bake (me too!), but craved travel and adventure (me too!), so never really saw herself working in a kitchen. She became a flight attendant to satisfy some of her wanderlust, but kept thinking about what she truly loved to do, and that was to create wondrous dessert delights.

To that end, Choo decided to attend the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco, where she focused on pastry. She then went back to Singapore and worked in a hotel there, furthering her training, and joined the Singapore National Team for pastry competition, meaning she was really, really good at what she did. She was also married by then, and her husband’s work kept him in Los Angeles, and the long distance thing was hard. Choo decided she needed to join her husband in L.A., and that was when she started thinking about opening a little place of her own.

Driving around Venice one day, Choo saw the space recently vacated by The Hydrant Cafe was available on Abbot Kinney. It was a little cottage with a courtyard, just about the perfect size for what she had been envisioning. Venice was also perfect, in her feeling, as she explains, “I liked the FEEL of Venice. It wasn’t pretentious, people are comfortable with themselves here.” Exactly.

Choo started the process from scratch (like her pastries), knowing nothing about the ins and outs of starting her own business, and she did it all herself. After the usual rigmarole with city inspectors, permits, suppliers and the like (”Crazy!”), Choo opened for business in September 2003, and has been blowing our minds with her concoctions ever since.

It kind of amazes me that even many people that live right in the neighborhood have never been to Jin (named after Choo’s middle name). It IS kind of hidden behind its tall gate, and you have to walk through the garden past the cherry blossoms to get into the little house where all the treasures are displayed, but it is just truly not to be missed.

Jin serves exotic and wonderful teas, little tea sandwiches and quiches (lovely for birthdays or the shower type event) but the real masterpieces are the desserts. Choo originally wanted to only do desserts, but after learning the local needs/wants/habits, decided to give people the choice of savory before diving right into the sweet, if they want. Many of us have no problem skipping right ahead to the sweet bliss, all made right there in the Jin kitchen.

Like – our number one favorite – Sea Salt Caramels. There is also a cake called “Inspiration” that is a sea salt chocolate caramel dream. The macaroons are too much – brightly colored little rounds of melting-in-your-mouth deliciousness (again, get the sea salt caramel one of those too!). The artistic chocolates (packaged so beautifully you don’t want to open the box) are ridiculous – lavender, mango-basil, yuzu, cinnamon, Earl Grey, passion fruit, lychee, each better than the next – and perhaps the best possible hostess gift ever. No one will ever be mad at receiving a box from Jin, I assure you. The number of bags from Jin cruising up and down Abbot Kinney on Valentine’s Day this year made it clear that the local people know what’s up for impressing their loved ones. Likewise, Choo’s chocolate Easter eggs are flawless works of art that I like to just stare at each year. Remarkable.

There was a Jin location for a while in Century City in the Intercontinental Hotel (closed last year), and a Valentine collaboration with Japanese department stores, but Choo is most happy in her little house in Venice, welcoming the locals and tourists alike who share her love for the original qualities of our town. She likes that her shop is unique, that people can only get her creations here in Venice. How lucky we are!

Choo hopes that Venice “won’t be like other places. Venice is a precious part of Los Angeles. Everywhere else people look the same, here they have PERSONALITY.” Now that Choo and her husband have a child, she doesn’t get the time to enjoy Venice as much, but has noticed all the changes taking place along Abbot Kinney, like we all have. She can’t stand First Fridays (again, like most of us nowadays), and really prefers the older school way things were (ditto). But, also like most of us feel, the personality of place really outshines all the rest, and Choo’s local regulars are now her friends. She can’t picture her little chocolate factory anywhere else. She loves it here. We love having her here.

Try this … maybe you’re having a little challenge of some sort. Go to Jin. Pick something out, anything from the pastry or chocolate case. Take it with you down to the beach. Look out over the horizon. Let the breeze wash over you and the sweet dissolve in your mouth. Even if just for that moment, everything will be so much better. It really is about the simple pleasures in life. And Jin has them for you in abundance.

Interview with Artist Ray Packard

By Mary Getlein

Raymond Dean Packard was a Venice artist from 1975 to 1989. He is a renowned water colorist and oil painter who did hundreds of beautiful paintings of Venice.Beachhead:

Beachhead: When did you feel like an artist? Did you always know you would be an artist?

Packard: Yes, as far back as I remember. After I finished with the Navy, I went to Art School on the GI Bill and graduated with an Masters in Fine Arts.

Beachhead: Did you start out as an independent painter?

Packard: No – I managed my own gallery in Akron, Ohio. Having The Packard Gallery was one of the major highlights of my life. I went to Europe once or twice and brought back Picassos to sell. My gallery was mentioned in several art books as a “cutting edge” gallery. I showed artists from all over, including works by Andy Warhol. I met a lot of well-known artists in and out of New York City.

Beachhead: What brought you to Venice, California?

Packard: It was 1975. I put it to a vote for my two young sons, Vincent and Raynard. My wife had just died and it was time for a change. I was burned out on the art business, so I played at being a business man.

Beachhead: What did you do when you got here?

Packard: At first I worked for General Motors in the Valley, just to pay the rent and support my two boys. My drinking got worse the longer I worked on an assembly line, and after two years I quit. I started showing my art out on the Boardwalk and got a favorable response from people there. This was exciting for me, and I was able to survive off my art, which is something I had wanted for a long time.

Ray lived in Venice until 1989, when he decided to go into a VA rehab and get sober. He still has clients in Southern California who buy his work. They call him on hte phone, describe a painting, and he matches it up and sends it to them.

One client in Santa Monica has over 200 Ray Packard paintings. “During the 1984 Olympics, many of my paintings went all over the world,” said Ray. When I asked him if he ever felt like keeping a special painting, he said, “No, never.” He sold everything he could.

Beachhead: Do you miss Venice, and what do you miss the most?

Packard:I think about Venice every day, and miss all the beautiful women I knew the most. We all had a lot of fun in those days, and those are fun memories to look back on.

Beachhead: What is the driving force in your life, Ray?

Packard: Well, art, of course, and living the life of an artist and meeting and enjoying all the beautiful women who were attracted to my art. I loved having wild parties in Venice.

Beachhead: Yes, Ray, I remember you had quite a reputation as a ladies man in Venice. When you left Venice, Teresa Daniels said, “You had been rescued by the breasts of all the beautiful women in Venice.” Do you remember that quote?

Packard: Yes, vaguely. I loved Venice and all the eccentric people of Venice. I look forward to my issue of The Beachhead every month. I show people The Beachhead and say, “Do you see what you’re missing living in Ohio?”

Ray is living in Akron, Ohio with his partner, Bunny, and enjoys his life. He is very proud of his sons and grandchildren, and is glad to be sober and drug-free.

Packard: Life is tough enough, so it’s easy to stay sober. I swim almost every day, ride my bike, enjoy my family and enjoy my life. What more could one ask for?

For information on price lists, collector lists, or for an appointment, please contact Ray Packard, 1319 Shanabrook Drive, Akron, Ohio 44313   (234) 542-3950. b

William Attaway Featured Artist

By CJ Gronner

The Other Venice Film Festival is honoring William Attaway as its Featured Artist during all the screenings at Beyond Baroque (October 13-16th) so I thought it was about time I and We got to know a little bit more about the man behind a lot of the art that we see in Venice every day.

Known around town as simply “Attaway”, he is probably best known in these parts for his beautiful mosaic column looking out over The Breakwater (by the beach park for kids next to the Police Station), creating a circle of calm amid the Boardwalk madness.

Born in New York to artist parents (and Grandparents – his Grandfather designed the interiors of Radio City Music Hall), Attaway took after them, and was always an artist himself. They were a black and white family and in the early 60′s with all the assassinations, it could be a scary time for bi-racial families, so Attaway’s family moved to Barbados, where they lived “the simple life” until he was 13. Attaway always loved to draw, and spent many of his days watching men make pottery in kilns built right into the side of Barbados’ Chalky Mountain. This was mainly to escape the wrath of a hard core Grandma, but his love of clay was discovered during those long afternoons of observation.

The family re-located to L.A. for his Dad’s work, and soon young Attaway was working as a 16 year-old assistant to Brian Scheller at a ceramic studio called The Pot Farm (now called the Clayhouse) in Santa Monica. After blowing up the kiln on his first day – literally – Attaway worked extra hard to learn all he could about ceramics. His pots grew bigger and bigger, as “there is no limit to clay”.

Attaway came down to Venice a lot to skateboard, and soon decided to drop out of high school (in 10th grade) to go in on an art studio with his friend. His Dad said he could if he really meant it and created a body of work. “So I did.” He sold out every community art show he entered, and walked around with a bunch of cash in his pocket as an 18 year old artist. A good time in 80′s Venice.

The art continued to expand as Attaway began to think of his sculptures more architectually, influenced by Gaudi, and he felt the urge to create something that hadn’t been done before. When plans for a Venice Arts Mecca school at the beach (where he was going to teach ceramics) fell through, Attaway applied to be the artist to create a work at the site of the former Venice Pavilion. The architect for the area had been looking at Attaway’s columns done for the Pomona Metro Station when the news came in that Gratefuk Dead guitaristJerry Garcia had died. The guy had been close to Garcia and was very upset, and took it as a sign that he should give his blessing to Attaway doing the art. Over 500 applicants, down to 8 finalists, and Attaway walked in to give his presentation right after Robert Graham had given his. But Attaway didn’t even have to finish his whole spiel, as they agreed with him right off that, “I knew what should happen here. I grew up here.”

From 1995-2000, with an entire year on physical labor alone, the 25 foot beach column was brought to life. Through the hard work of two people – Attaway and his best friend, Kenny Roberts – 5 tons of clay, 25,000 gallons of cement, and lots of short ribs between them and the Filipino security guard, the column was finished and “It’s a dream come true.” To have a signature piece of Venice art of his own making in his own backyard, in what his kids now call “Papa’s Park” truly is the kind of gratification any artist would aspire to. He does say it was not a pleasure to work with the City, and that things really came together in a great example of community over bureaucracy to get the project completed.

That community is the same thing that has kept Attaway in Venice all these years. “There is a love of family here, and a love of art that has kept Abbot Kinney’s vision intact. Venice still resonates with that intention.” Of course, Attaway has seen the changes we all have, but as he sees it, “Venice was a scary place, you had to watch how you walked, there were major shoot-outs you would not believe right in front of here, crack trucks, gang murders, people were literally giving away their mortgages,” so the fact that I didn’t even think about all that when I came to see him is actually a really big improvement.

“It’s not gentrification that splits us apart, it’s War-ification. How our money is spent, what programs get funded … war over art, greed and instant gratification … not looking at the big picture … The more fighting that goes on outside, the more goes on inside.” In order to combat that, Attaway feels that people need to stand up and revolt. How can everyday people do that? “People don’t know how to wait for their food to grow anymore. You can grow your own food. You can drink lots of water. You can ride bikes and not use cars.”

To that end, Attaway’s new series of paintings is called “Gardens”, and his favorite place to have coffee in Venice is in his own garden. He thinks there should be signs when you enter Venice that say, “When you enter Venice, Bikes have right of way”. There should be vacuums in the alleys so you can suck up the glass and stuff so everyone doesn’t puncture their tires. There should be naked Police. Naked Police will stop violence, people would just take one look at them and stop.” We talked about Cityhood for Venice, which he’s all for and said, “Venice IS the original Hood City, so, yeah. Everyone who goes to Disneyland comes to Venice the next day for free to chill, so we should be getting more than the 1 percentfrom the City Of L.A.”

Attaway thinks that Venice is a place “where a lot of people have made their lifestyle dreams come true.” From skating back in the day with Tony Alva, having the dream of a skatepark on the beach come true, they MADE that happen. From a mailman who does his route and then goes fishing every night on the pier, he MADE that happen. “Look at the drum circle – I call it the Chaos Circle – The Boardwalk is the end of the Earth. I love it.”

You can see Attaway cruising around on his bike: Getting food at the La Isla Bonita taco truck by Gold’s Gym that he did mosaics for. Eating at Axe. or Danny’s Deli for matzo ball soup, or James Beach for chocolate souffle. Or late-night octopus and martinis at Hal’s (”I want my art hung in Hal’s when I grow up”). Drinking at Venice Ale House or Oscar’s (”the #1 new hot spot”).

You can see Attaway’s art all over town (The Column. Mosaics on beach bathrooms. Mosaic at Tabor Courts VCHC. Etc…Etc..), see art documentaries on him by his friend, Venice local Christopher Gallo, or just go by 334 Sunset on Saturday or Sunday and see if a Flying Man statue is outside. That means you can go in and see his art works in progress. There might be musician friends playing, there might be a chef friend cooking up a feast, and “What happens, happens.”

As true a Venice statement as any I’ve heard.

Tom Freund’s Edge of Venice

By CJ Gronner

Tom Freund has been a part of my Venice for as long as I can remember. His latest album, The Edge Of Venice, gave us a good excuse to sit down and talk about our Venice and his music inspired by this special part of the world.

Tom was born and raised in New York, where he self-taught himself the upright bass and piano at the age of 7, then picked up the guitar at 11. He was already getting jazz gigs in high school, and so began a musician’s life that has never included any kind of desk job. College was the Berklee School of Music and then Claremont College, when he decided to come West to check out the music scene. Once he got that degree in English Lit, it was off to the races, starting “the tour of life.”

Tom was broken into the touring musician’s life when he played as a member of alt-country band, The Silos. “It’s a great way to see the world. When you play a show somewhere, you’re in the scene you’d be in if you lived in that town, so you meet a lot of like people and the world gets smaller.”

After a stint living in Austin, Texas, Tom bought a big dresser at the French 50/60′s store when he was visiting Venice, and decided it was easier to move himself than the dresser, and has lived here ever since. Though he travels the world playing gigs (and just got back from opening for Ben Harper in Europe), it’s always Venice he looks forward to coming back home to.Tom’s  daughter, Delilah, was born in Venice and through her, Tom has realized the phenomenal and tightly-knit community that Venice also is for parents and kids. He recorded a great kids album, Hug Trees, in honor of this, that every Venice kid (or every kid, period) should own.

We sat down at The French Market to catch up and talk about this place we love and his latest album. We agreed that it’s getting harder to live in Venice as an artist (though the artists made Venice what it is in the first place), and Tom said, “I’m hanging onto Lincoln for dear life.” Hence his album title, the EDGE of Venice. But that title also has double meaning, as the EDGE that Venice has to it is also something worth clinging to. As it gets more homogenized around here, it’s harder to see that edge, but it’s there, and we’re hanging onto it for dear life. Tom (and I) love the old school places, like the Abbot’s Habit corner (“Legendary”), the French Market, Firefly, and The Roosterfish (“The dopest place left for a drink”), though Tom is not afraid to hit the Other Room for a Malbec on occasion. He misses The Stronghold music scene, which he was a big part of, and we’re still trying to find the place that can be like that artistically, locally.

Perhaps it could be The Del Monte Speakeasy, where Tom had his cd release show for The Edge Of Venice the other night. Located in the basement of The Townhouse bar on Windward, the Del Monte is now open for business (stay tuned for the story on them soon) and hosted a slam-bang night of music to celebrate Freund’s latest musical endeavor. The Del Monte really was a speakeasy in the Prohibition era, and is now completely refurbished and gorgeous, with great sound.

Australian indie darling Julia Stone opened the night up for Tom, in her first show without her brother, Angus. She has an angel voice, and can blast some great trumpet too. I loved her version of “You’re The One That I Want” from Grease the most. Check her out.

Tom’s friend introduced him by saying, “In this sacred, crazy, fucked up, tilted place called Venice, we can all relate to Tom Freund!” I loved that. In a night that featured many of the songs off the new album, and a bunch of classic ones, each and every number was one that had the crowd dancing and singing along … many of whom have been Freund Fans from the beginning. As Tom said before launching into his song “Where Is The Love?”, “This whole night is about friends.” So true. And many of Tom’s musician friends were there to back him up: Chris Joyner, Gabriel Noel, Ben Peeler, Pete McNeil, David Ralicke, Brett Dennen, and Julia Stone returning to duet with Tom on his great, “Why Wyoming?” and “Sugar Don’t Get No Sweeter Than This” and the excellent covers of The Who’s “Let My Love Open The Door” and the Beatles’ “Revolution”. Good times.

“Wounded Surfer Boy” off the new album sounds a whole lot like a bunch of Venice people I’ve known, with its verse that goes:

He’s the Mayor of the neighborhood,

He rides around on a skateboard made of wood,

He’s got no car, no house to call his own,

But that’s alright, he’ll find someplace to stay tonight,

And that’s alright by her

 

Yep. We all know(and love) a few of them. “You’ve heard this one before in Venice,” said Tom to introduce one of my favorites, “Truly Mellow”. It features a chorus of “La da dah’s” that the whole room sang along, especially when Tom said, “C’mon Venice, sing so they can hear about it in Marina del Rey!” And we did.

At night’s end, everyone staggered back upstairs to cool off outside on Windward. Sweaty, smiling, happy and feeling truly mellow. A perfect night in and about Venice, California.

Add Tom Freund’s The Edge Of Venice to your Venice Soundtrack … It’s not complete without it. It and all of Tom’s discography are available at TomFreund.com, ITunes, CD Baby, Amazon, and at whatever record stores are still alive and kicking.

Support your local (International) artists!

Interview with Singer-Songwriter Jacqueline Fuentes

Interviewed by Karl Abrams

Jacqueline Fuentes is a dynamic and charismatic Chilean folk singer, songwriter and international activist. She moved to Venice about 15 years ago from Santiago and has been playing for small to medium-sized groups of lucky people ever since. The legend is true – to hear her sing is to be instantly mesmerized by the power of her voice.

Jacqueline’s deep and beautifully written lyrics, mostly in Spanish, may be described as a mix of Chilean folk music with a fusion of love, solidarity and revolution. Or, by some accounts, a life-changing musical experience able to move people to their deepest levels.

Her political influences goes back to when she was a child of ten. It was then, in 1973, that a CIA-backed coup d’etat assassinated the Chilean President, Salvador Allende. Jacqueline’s mother, a fiery anti-Pinochet activist, told her that the great folk singer Victor Jarra had his fingers broken by Pinochet’s soldiers so he could no longer play his guitar to lift the spirits of the people. He was then machine-gunned in a sports arena now bearing his name.

Today, Jacqueline’s music is dedicated to help keep alive the same message of love and social revolution that nurtures hope during such politically repressive times.

BH: Jacqueline, who were your early influences as a young musician?

JF: My father was certainly my earliest influence. He was a radio singer way back when we were little kids in Santiago. After work he would record all of my brothers and sisters singing. We loved it. Later, as a teenager, I became influenced by the music and powerful lyrics of Mercedes Sosa, Violetta Parra and Victor Jara.

BH: It looks like you got off to an early start as a young singer in Santiago, Chile.

JF: I was actually 15 when I did my solo debut with the National Folklore Ballet at the Vina Del Mar Festival. That was a wonderful experience for me. That same year I joined a band called “Chamal.” This early experience was very important to my development as an artist. During college I continued to travel with the Ballet.

BH: Did you have time for college studies with so many shows to perform all over the world?

JF: I was very busy. I studied classical music and singing at the University of Chile, one of the oldest schools in Latin America. Pablo Naruda studied there, you know. I also studied music therapy later. Together, they are a good combination I think.

BH: What is the deeper message or meaning of your music?

JF: There is an invisible thread that runs through my three albums. The Great Mother Spirit energy (you know her, right?) is here for all of us to become transformed…to be vulnerable again to life, to be open, to feel deeply once again…to feel interconnected. My songs channel this energy.

BH: I understand. I’ve been listening to your music for about 5 years now. Can you tell us a little about your latest album?

JF: Yes,  “Amo La Vida – I Love Life” is the name of my latest album and one of the songs on it. I decided to use a lot of diverse musical instrumentation with a very nice ethnic blend of musicians for all people to connect with. It’s my way of awakening a deep love in people, the first step in real global change.

BH: What kind of changes would you like to see in the world?

JF: My work is mostly about healing and bringing people together, it is capitalism that divides. Through my music, I would like to play my part in helping to integrate the Latin and American communities and contribute towards healing their differences. I prefer to work with all people who are struggling…all over the world.

BH: How about a world tour?

JF: Thank you. It’s coming soon.

Who in the Heaven is Larry Bell?

By CJ Gronner

Renowned artist, Larry Bell, is a true Venice treasure. His profile, with hat and signature cigar, has been sighted all over town for decades, and is now the inspiration behind a new neighborhood hang about to open at the corner of Windward and Speedway, the aptly named “Larry’s” (Currently featuring a sign outside reading “Who in the Heaven is Spanto? [sic]”, which used to say “Larry” until someone graffiti’d over it with the name of our dearly departed friend, Sponto).

I got the chance to sit down and chat with Mr. Bell the other day in his Market Street art studio, and discover that he’s even cooler than I already thought he was. Surrounded by his beautiful works of art, both finished and in progress, we sat and talked about his Venice, then and now.

Bell was born in Chicago in 1939, and moved to L.A. with his family at the age of five. He always had an interest in art and music, and thought he’d get into animation over at Disney. As part of his art school (Chouinard Art Institute) curriculum, he had to study painting, which soon became his focus … to the extent that now his painting and sculptures can be seen in museums all around the world – and in his big, well-lit Venice studio, where he likes to “meet the people who want to own my stuff.”

At 19, Bell moved to Venice … “because it was cheap.” At that time, it was full of empty storefronts and considered dangerous, so he was able to secure his studio space for a mere $70 a month. Perfect for aspiring artists. A group of about 6 to 10 people started from scratch what became a true community of artists, and put Venice on the map as an art destination. Much of the gang became “The Cool School” (see the documentary of the same name to really get it), and gained fame worldwide. As we spoke about his work, Bell told me that “I’m interested in creating images I haven’t seen before … It’s an organic cycle, I’m not in control, I’m more like the middle man.” Interesting, as I’ve heard guitarist Leo Kottke say about the same thing, and it was then that I noticed Bell’s 12-string guitar standing by. He claims to only noodle on it, but I have a feeling he’s being overly humble, considering the concentration he seems to apply to everything.

In 1972, Bell “fell in love with a beautiful girl, and wanted to get her away from the competition,” so he moved with her to Taos, New Mexico, where he traded his art for his new property. The marriage ultimately split up, and it was time to return to Venice. By some strange stroke of kismet, his exact same studio space was open and available on Market Street, unchanged and ready for him to get to work.  He had built the doors on the front wall himself, in order to get large pieces and equipment in and out easier, and all remained intact. The only thing that changed was the Venice outside the doors.

About that, Bell says, “Venice inherited a mystique about being a creative place, which is extraordinary because it IS … Nothing lasts, and Venice is an organic, changing place, and you can’t stop that or it’s Knott’s Berry Farm.” The place remains special, and will always draw people because of, “The AIR! The ionized air from the sea … the weather is perfect here all the time” (Well … it certainly was the day we were talking). He also finds special that there isn’t high-density housing at the beach. It’s still mostly individual homes and small apartment buildings, adding to the neighborhood vibe. We talked about cityhood for Venice, which he doesn’t think possible for just the basic economic facts, like who would pay the cops, firemen, etc … and added, “The best way to protect the funky edge of Venice is to get it historical status.” Hmm … an interesting idea, for sure.

In the years that Bell lived in Taos, he would always stay at the Marina Pacific Hotel when in Venice. He became fast friends with the owner, Erwin Sokol, and when the Marina Pacific became the Hotel Erwin a couple of years ago, Bell not only moved in, but helped design the lighting, and each room in the Erwin now contains a work by Larry Bell. He was invited to the hotel meetings to offer his input on various issues, and when the time came for Mr. Sokol to open a bar/restaurant in the ideal, hotel-adjacent location of Windward and Speedway, they all met to discuss possible names. Bell offered up “Altoon’s” (after John Altoon, a fellow Venice artist in the 50’s and 60’s, who lived nearby and died in 1969) as his choice, but was out-voted by the eventual winner – “Larry’s”.

Bell drew the self-portrait in hat and cigar for the neon sign, and his paintings are featured inside. He also made a list of Venice artists, past and present, to be a mural on the outside wall of Larry’s – honoring the people and art that has made Venice the place that it is – wearing the very heart of Venice on its sleeve. I spoke to owner, Erwin Sokol, and he hopes that Larry’s will be open for business in the next couple of months, as they’re sorting out the Chef/kitchen part of it all now. It now looks like Larry’s will be open to greet the Summer along with the rest of us, and I can’t wait to watch Venice roll by as we sit on the patio and appreciate it all from the namesake spot of one of our coolest residents.

As we were wrapping up our time together, Bell’s son, Oliver, and beloved American Bulldog, Pinky, came back from a walk, and we all turned our attention to that sweet dog. Market Street was abuzz outside, with people getting ready for the Art Crawl, and soaking up the warm afternoon sunshine. Bell walked me out, and as we said our goodbyes, he saw a girl sitting in the next doorway, headphones on, a million miles away.  Bell held out his arms and said, “Look, beautiful girls sitting in doorways, on a beautiful day …”

There was nothing else for me to say but, “We’re lucky people.” He turned and smiled rakishly, “Yes, we sure are.”

Rip Cronk Paints Venice

By CJ Gronner

Of course I’ve been familiar with the art of Rip Cronk for years and years … we all are, here in Venice. His murals are icons of the community, from Jim Morrison on Speedway, to the huge Abbot Kinney on North Venice, from his self-portrait hanging over The Boardwalk, to the brand new one he’s been working on for the past three months on the side of Danny’s Deli … I’d argue his art is as important to Venice as any attraction we have.

I was not familiar with the man himself, however, until we sat down and had a beer at Danny’s together after he knocked off for the day, so I could learn about how it all came to be. What a cool guy.

Rip grew up on the East Coast, then went to get his art degrees in Florida and New Mexico. From there he moved to Hawai’i, where he got into the mural medium. He didn’t feel the desire to pursue gallery art, as it’s hard to get into one, and then they just want more of the work that got you in, so your freedom of expression is pretty much censored by the gallery owner’s market. No, he wanted to get the big public walls. The walls that not only reach a wide audience, by their sheer size alone, but that also affect society, and become landmarks of a neighborhood, as Mr. Cronk’s surely have here in Venice. (Check his website – www.rcronk.com – for super insightful and wise essays on art and culture).

He moved to Venice in 1979 “on a lark,” (he’s lived here three different times, as he said, he doesn’t visit places, he just moves to them) and one day saw an ad for a muralist needed at SPARC. That is what you call destiny.

He has been involved with SPARC ever since, and the social/public art they champion. The mural projects gave Rip ways to interact with the fine art context in new and different ways, as evidenced by the variety of his works.

The art murals come about in different ways. Rip keeps his eyes open for attractive sites, and he’s also approached by business owners who want a cool wall, that enables them to be seen as a “culture provider.” That then tends to help them commercially, so everyone wins. Rip explained that he’s “not trying to make the big bucks, I’m trying to get the big walls.” He isn’t interested in being commissioned to do, for instance, a big historical vignette, he’s more interested in the mural BECOMING history, which it does the day it goes up. The big walls give him the freedom to take ideas in unexpected directions, as he really only does a rough sketch of a piece, and then makes most of it up on the wall as he goes along. It’s been fascinating to fly down Speedway every morning and see his progress sailing along, and funny too, as various citizens lobby to get themselves included up on that vast Venice tableau.

We talked about Venice itself a while, and all that Rip has seen change (and stay the same) over the decades. I liked when he said that of the 200,000 people down on the Boardwalk on a weekend, the 2,000 of them that are a real part of the community are all you really see … the ones that truly have a sense of “Core Community.” He finds there to be a very protective, self-regulating camaraderie among locals, that crosses financial lines. “The business owners and the street people have the same values, and mostly even dress the same,” said Rip, when explaining how he feels that Venice is really a focal point for creativity.

“Not just the Boardwalk or Abbot Kinney, every SIDE street is FULL of creators, in every house. They’ve been drawn here for more than half a century, and creativity just BREATHES out of here. Even if an idea started somewhere else, it catches on here. It’s a cultural vortex.” I sat there listening to Rip explain what I’ve always felt, while surrounded by the faces of Venice past and present that Rip painted on the inside walls of Danny’s Deli. You could almost see the faces of the mural nodding in agreement.

Rip has notebooks of ideas that have never been used, because the idea comes from the location. And with Venice as a location, there has been no shortage of ideas. “The Boardwalk is a cultural EVENT that happens every day, unto itself … Venice is an International Beach, unlike anywhere in the world.” That got us to talking about how for as big of an attraction (and revenue earner) as Venice is, how little the city of Los Angeles gives to it (gross bathrooms, poor street cleaning, not enough garbage cans, etc.). On that note, and for the record, Mr. Cronk is FOR Venice cityhood.

Rip now lives up north in Weed, California, where he raises horses with his wife, Lindy. Though not a resident at present, he remains a key figure of Venice, to the extent that publications continually contact him as a Venice source – for good reason. He works down here a lot, obviously, and when he’s in town, he can most likely be found – when not up on his scaffolding machine painting – at Danny’s Deli, James Beach and the Sidewalk Cafe. He loves the beach and the canals, and continues to be inspired by that creative vortex, even now after all these years.

As far as changes to Venice, Rip said that thanks to things like our Art Crawl (every 3rd Thursday!), people can go out in an alley now and feel safe, and “I like that!” He feels it’s less dangerous now, with no loss of edge. One failing, as he sees it, is that hippies seem to have been edged out, and he urges them to come back! (I guess he didn’t think I was hippie enough, but then, we just met). “Other than that, everything that’s been happening the past 40 years meets with my approval.”

And everything I’ve seen and heard from Rip Cronk, both artistically and humanly, completely meets with my approval.

Interview with Navalette Tabor Bailey and Jataun Valentine

(This interview originally appeared in the Beachhead’s March 2007 issue)

By Rex Butters

Beachhead: How long have you been with the historical society?

Navalette Tabor Bailey: Oh, about 20 years, I guess. I know it’s been a long time.

Beachhead: What does the historical society do?

Bailey: They try to restore and protect the original Venice. You know, they put up these monstrosities now, just ruin the architecture all together. Upside down houses, and everything.

Jataun Valentine: They look like bunkers.

Bailey: Until recently, Venice was just small cottages. It wasn’t designed to be a city, more of a resort. That’s what Abbot Kinney had in mind.

Valentine: One of the things the Venice Historical Society has been doing, they have all this history and artifacts and it’s costing them a fortune to keep it, because they don’t have a building of their own. That’s their goal, to have a building where they can show all of this history and things that they’ve been keeping, that people have given them.

Bailey: Especially photos, you have to keep them under certain conditions. When they built the library, they should have had a portion of it so we could store things. We’re trying to purchase one of those big red trolley cars, but we can’t find one. Put it right behind the library.

Beachhead: Did you get down on the old pier?

Bailey: I lived on the pier. That’s why I don’t care about Disneyland. I’ve had it all my life. Mr. Reese was the town decorator. He decorated the ballroom and the pier. He had a crew of men who cleaned the pier. He was in charge of everything, the plunge, where to get your towels, all that kind of stuff. Everybody knew our family, so we could go on the rides for free. We’d leave early in the morning and be gone all day long. My father was a Tabor, he was a cousin of Arthur Reese. And, his brother was a chauffeur for Abbot Kinney. He willed him his house. It was sold recently, the grand kids sold it. It’s sad. It was a beautiful old place. About 20 of the grandkids got married there.

It was sort of like a meeting place. It was large and our family was large, we would utilize the house so often for social events. We couldn’t go anyplace, we couldn’t go to any dances, because they didn’t allow us in the ballroom. We had this big house, we could do anything we wanted to do. My uncle was very good about letting us use it.

Beachhead: Where was it?

Bailey: Sixth & Santa Clara. It’s still there.

Valentine: We went through it not long ago. They were very nice. One thing I thought was interesting was that wall made of hide.

Bailey: Leather walls all the way around. Full hides each panel, beautiful.

Beachhead: Did you ever think it would get so expensive around here?

Bailey: No, I couldn’t imagine it. These flats they built all over Venice after the war, they were selling those for $10,000. I thought that was exorbitant. I wouldn’t buy one. Now they sell for a million dollars.

Valentine: There were a lot of empty lots around, now you don’t see any empty ones.

Bailey: We had that fear of losing, because my parents lost everything in the Depression. But, they weren’t the only ones. It made you leery of conditions and you didn’t take advantage of things like you should. Well, we’re still here, anyway.

Beachhead: Did you find work during the Depression?

Bailey: We didn’t have a lot of opportunities. We had to make the best of what we had. When I got out of high school I went to work in Malibu Colony, I was working for a family up there. A dollar a day, 30 dollars a month, sometimes 16 hour days.

I graduated from high school during the Depression, 1933. I was the first black woman to graduate from Venice High School. I didn’t want to be a burden on my family, because they were struggling, so I got myself a job.

I was taking care of two little girls, doing the hardest work. But one good thing, I had a car and a chauffeur’s license. I drove the kids to school. I was independent that way, on my day off they let me take the car, which is the only good thing I got out of it. I guess that’s why I stayed for that little of money. I dressed myself, I wasn’t a burden on my family. I stayed with them about four years I guess.

The woman’s family owned a lot of property in La Cañada. Her family put her on a budget. They’d only give her so much money a month, because she was a spendthrift. She was kind of spoiled. One day, she must have lost it. I had one day off, on Thursday. I heard her on the telephone inviting a lot of people over. It was the 4th of July, it came on a Thursday, my day off. I’d made plans, I heard her, I said, “You better call the employment agency in Santa Monica, see if you can get someone out here to help you, because you know I’m not going to be here.”

She hauled off, and POW! She hit me in the face and knocked me on my butt. I sat on the floor for a minute because I was stunned. I shook my head, and she was stunned too, because I didn’t get up right away. I got up slowly to get my bearings, because I was groggy. See, she didn’t know I could fight. My cousins were all amateur boxers and they use to teach me how to, 1-2-3 punch. So when I came up, I came with a hay bale. I hit her, POWEE! And I threw her up against a door, all this was in the little bathroom. It got too much for her in the bathroom and she ran into her bedroom, and I was right behind her. She turned around and kicked at me, so I just grabbed her foot and threw her on her back. Then I straddled her, and I was whaling on her.

Her husband came in, he pulled me off of her, and she said, “She hits like a mule!” She didn’t know what I would do. I was taught to fight, I didn’t fight like a woman, scratching. I was really throwing some punches. She ended up with a wet towel on her face begging me to stay. I hated to leave the kids, I was attached to them. But, I called home and had them come pick me up. I got another job, paid just as much.

Beachhead: You’ve been here since 1915. If you were granted the wish, what would you like to see happen in Venice in the next hundred years?

Bailey: I’d like it to remain like it used to be, a mecca of excitement. The railroad would bring car after car, people would get off in droves. Now it’s cars. They should never have gotten rid of the railroad.

Valentine: Those were the days, too, when we didn’t have to have bars on the windows, didn’t have to lock the door. That made a big difference.

Bailey: Everybody had passkeys. One key could open any door, so why lock them?

Valentine: It was fun when kids could be kids and stay out. Our parents didn’t worry about us, we didn’t have the kidnapping. As long as we got home before dark. Everybody knew everybody, too. It was a community. If you did something wrong, by the time you got home, your parents knew about it. Neighbors could discipline you, and the parents were glad they did it.

Bailey: They had a curfew. There was a big whistle that blew right where Bank of America is. But, you’ve got to give way to progress. I know it will never return like it was.

Interview with Thomas Paine Haag Duggan

By Greta Cobar

Carol Fondiller used to baby-sit Thomas Duggan, formerly known as Thomas Haag, Anna’s son. Yes, Anna Haag, who with John Haag operated the Venice West Cafe at 7 Dudley from 1962-66. John, Anna and Carol were also on the collective of the first Beachhead in 1968. One person who knew all of them from the beginning was Thomas.

Thomas, tell me about Carol. I had just talked to her on the phone about a month ago. I told her that I had just opened a bike shop, and she was proud. She said that she remembers how much fun she had with her little red Schwinn. I really wanted to interview her on camera, to just let the camera roll while we talked. I regret not getting around to that.

I have lots of fun memories of Carol. She was part of the group that my mom always hanged with. It was her, my father Bob Duggan, Jay the Bubbleman, Tomito, Lil’ Joe and Gloria Scott. I remember Carol baby-sitting me. I remember that I could always go to her house, any day, any time. I was around 5 years old, I remember them sitting around smoking pot. They always gave me the roach, and I would eat it. When they were through with the joint, they always said: “save the roach for Thomas.”

My mom and Carol used to hang out on the boardwalk all the time. As a matter of fact, my mom was one of the first, if not the first, vendor on the boardwalk. She made beautiful jewelry.

Tell me about your childhood. I grew up as Thomas Haag, but when I was 17 I had my son Jasen, and it was at that time that my mom told me that Bob Duggan was my father. I figure John must have cheated on her or something, and they were still married, but separated, and she got pregnant. I then changed my name to Thomas Duggan. But both John and Bob were a big part of my childhood, they both took me camping and stuff. One time John ran out of money during a camping trip, and we had to go through some really weird shit. Anyways, I have a sister, Duanna, who is 3 years younger than me. She lives in Colorado with her child. She is the one child that Anna and John Haag had together.

How was growing up in Venice? I remember going to Westminster Elementary School, and all doors had to be locked when Venice High students got out. They would come to get us. But I stayed out of trouble by staying out of certain places at certain times. I even graduated from Venice High.

My mom used to take us to Umbria, Italy, where she was from, every summer. We would leave a few days after school was over and did not come back till a few days before school started again. It was cool because I got to experience another culture, but I always felt like I was missing out on what was going on in Venice during that time. It was funny how different my life here was compared to my cousins’ in Italy. Over there they would get in trouble for not having their shirts tucked in, while over here I was really big into biking, skating, baseball, but also drugs and alcohol. I did so many drugs that I was through with all of that by 16. Same thing with alcohol, by 20 I had had enough. One time, I was 11, and our plane for Italy was supposed to leave at like 3 pm or something, but by noon I was so drunk that my mom got really pissed. God, she was so pissed! It was probably because I couldn’t help her carry anything. We used to have duffle bags full of stuff to take to Italy for presents.

But one common ground that I found with my Italian cousins was soccer. That’s what we played. And I also got to know another culture. My grandfather would send me to the store to buy him alcohol. And I learned to speak fluent Italian. While in Italy, I spoke Italian to my mother. But over here we always spoke English.

And what have you done since? I left Venice for 13 years, from 1987 to 2000, to live with my dad Bob Duggan in Aspen, Colorado. I graduated from the security school that my father has going on there, worked for him, taught shooting. Really did not like the weather, just too much snow.

Just this past April, Thomas opened a bike shop in the heart of Venice, just three blocks north of the post office on Main St. and San Juan. It’s a cool little place, and you should all check it out. He sells all kinds of old Schwinns that I almost drooled over, but also Backward Circle Bikes, those colorful skinny bikes that people ballet on at a stop light. What’s up with these bikes, Thomas? Well, I sell more of these than anybody else. My friend who started the company told me today “you’re in the lead.” When they bring these bikes in from Taiwan, they have to have a break on them and a chain guard, for security purposes. But then people take the chain guard and the break off, and they stop them by skidding the back wheel with a foot. I recently learned how to do that, but I still like beach cruisers best.

We rode bikes together to Carol’s memorial. He rode a wheelie most of the way.

I felt honored to be part of Carol’s memorial and to be able to continue her legacy with the Beachhead.