MOTU (cowwoman) embodies the memory of the universe in Alysse Stepanian's 3D video, at Coaxial on Sept. 15th. Review by Kelly Blunt We are witnessing war. Machine guns, drones, and explosions of a confused nature ricochet in our heads. The silence reverberates. Soldiers casually dismiss the dead. Refugees are left stateless. A plastic bottle floats across a waterspace. MOTU, the strapping and heroic cowwoman introduced earlier in the video, flies through the water. She encounters a massive oil spill as a dozen plastic beverage containers float downward to further pollute the water. MOTU nearly gets trapped in the underwater folds of an American flag. It hugs her body momentarily, before she swims on. It continues floating through the water, resembling a sea creature. On flat screen monitors factory farm pigs look sadly out from cages, and a monkey is rocketed into space. We see a mutilated boy’s body on pale sand. Sounds grate and dance in a frenzy. They mirr...

Día de Los Muertos Altar dedicated to los perdidos en Tlatelolco '68 and the 43 in Ayotzinapa. Courtesy of J.A. Aguirre. by Abel Salas To most Angeleños* and roughly two million visitors from across the city, the state, the country and abroad who visit annually, Olvera Street is little more than a touristy relic, an antique collection of structures and buildings that once functioned as the city’s bustling center. For them, it provides a portal to a quaint, picturesque and romantic—if reductive and grossly idealized—vision of an idyllic colonial pueblo once home to the original 44 Native American, African, European and Mestizo settlers who founded Los Angeles along the banks of the Río de Porciúncula (Los Angeles River) in 1781. Declared a state park through the efforts of preservationist and persistent civic booster Christine Sterling, the cradle of Los Angeles had already fallen on hard times by the 1920s when she turned her attention to its shuttered adobe and early brick...

Grand Performances, L.A.'s beloved downtown performing arts series, now led by Mari Riddle. by Abel M. Salas Nestled discreetly among a slew of buildings at the top of Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles, California Plaza Watercourt is invisible to those driving by. Bordered on three sides by Grand Ave., 4th St. and Olive St., respectively, the hodgepodge of structures which shield the open-air urban retreat includes, among others, a pair of office towers, a hotel and the upper terminus of the city’s 116-year-old Angel’s Flight rail car service, which ascends at a sharp, 33-degree angle for nearly 300-ft. from its base at Hill St., one block to the east. First-time visitors who brave the steep, two-story escalator ride up from 4th St at Olive are often surprised to discover such a generously apportioned public space tucked away at the summit of the well-known topographical landmark that gave its name to a downtown neighborhood once synonymous with the mystery, intrigue, mur...

Con Safos co-founder and original Editor-in-Chief Arturo Flores in front of a 1970 Ruben Salazar portrait by Sergio Hernández. Photo by Oscar Castillo. by Alci Rengifo The passage of nearly 50 years has not dimmed the radical glint in their eyes. On July 9, the founders of the legendary Chicano publication Con Safos: Reflections of Life in the Barrio , reunited for an evening of war stories, snacks and a playfully nostalgic revival of the once annual Tortilla de Oro Awards presentation at the Museum of Social Justice in downtown Los Angeles' historic Placita Olvera. From February through August of this year, the museum housed memorabilia, art and artifacts as a survey of some of the issues and satirical artwork that made Con Safos an incendiary publication during the turbulent tail end of the1960s. Satirical cartoons, anti-war spreads and photos by renowned photographer Oscar Castillo, among others, graced the museum’s walls. Also included was a spread covering the deat...

NK-Riot, the performing entity developed by Kristopher Escajeda (l.), visits with Five Star owner Marco Cordova. by Alci Rengifo Marco Cordova is busy booking bands to play the Five Star Bar well into February. He just isn’t sure if there will still be a space for them to perform in by then. Cordova, owner of the well-known live music venue on South Main Street, is the latest small business owner to become the target of big business interests seeking to transform the face of Los Angeles. Last May, Cordova was astounded to find a Demolition Notice posted on his venue. Notices were also given to other neighboring businesses such as the Downtown Independent movie theater, a half blo k away. “All hell broke loose that weekend,” said Cordova at a nearby café on a Saturday night. “I was in awe. My jaw dropped.” The night club and entertainment establishment where the Five Star Bar resides was called The Columbine when it was purchased in 1971 by Cordova’s father, who passed away ...