Holy Rollin': BOTS Invades Salvation Mountain

Salvation Mountain is Instagrammer's ecstasy.

A much-revered landmark for IG users, Salvation Mountain is a checklist destination perfectly prohibitive in its desert geography (close enough for social media sojourners to get there and back within a day, distant enough to give every picture pilgrim the appropriate amount of cool cred for making the otherwise desolate journey).  As evidenced by the thousands of carefully-filtered photos bearing the eponymous hashtag, Salvation Mountain is a place for disingenuous youth to affect the poses that have become so subconsciously familiar (those characterized by the subjects' well-studied stare as they regard the horizon with an expert combination of anguish and apathy).  A colorful, if slightly sun-blistered backdrop, Salvation Mountain's unqualified Judeo-Christian ethos can be tolerated in the name of post-ironic photo gathering.  A surefire "heart" magnet, Salvation Mountain elicits envy and scorn in equal measure.  In short, it is Instagram.  The veneer protecting my contempt for social media sociology may seem perilously thin, yet there we were excitedly making the trek to a destination every bit worthy of its celebrity.

Get a load of this!

Music and video by Mary

I refuse to insult anyone's intelligence by pretending that a profundity greater than the average mountain climber's motivated our visit.  Yes, the wacky tacky adventure team, in our quest to storm America's greatest trash castles, was there to document the divinely-inspired folk art of Leonard Knight...but not before procuring some ultra-hip photographic evidence of our own day trip.

Blazing our trail, we began to spitball a few ideas for heightening our experience at Salvation Mountain; as we flew past a discount store, I suggested that it might be fun to arrive in white sweatsuits and drugstore flip flops, giving the appearance of a cult pilgrimage.  Call it pretense, if you must, but I was looking for a way to add a layer of humor to our visit (after all, the ten sexiest Instagram poses lose something in translation when applied to a fat man on the cusp of middle age).  When the elusive white sweat suit became our proverbial white whale; we were forced to settle for the offerings of the paint aisle, leaving the hardware store in crisp, white coveralls and a trio of matching safety goggles.

Introducing BOTS (Brotherhood of Terrestrial Salvation)
Like a mess of meth-making Mike Teavees

Salvation Mountain is the lifework and ministry of Leonard Knight.  What started in the 1970s as a proselytizing mission via homemade hot air balloon (seriously) evolved into an '80s-era devotional of straw, clay, found objects, and countless coats of house paint.  It took two tries and many years for Knight to master his signature mountain-making technique; through it all, his faith, love, and generosity never wavered.  Expansion and maintenance of his passion project continued until his health began to fail in 2011.  In the years since his subsequent death, local volunteers have lovingly preserved Knight's masterpiece.

Love is all you need.  You may quote me.

This legacy of love is the true message of Salvation Mountain.  Christian and nonbeliever alike are reminded at every turn that the purpose of our existence is love.

Just in case anyone missed the literal writing on the wall,
these two BOTS brethren demonstrate how to get a heart on.

It was unclear whether other Knight devotees were feeling the love of the BOTS' presence.  Despite a woeful lack of purpose/planning on our part, many videos and photographs - surreptitious and otherwise - were taken as we silently marched our way up and over the mountain (with un-swinging arms for that authentic touch of cultish weirdness).

She's still wondering if the label on the coveralls was accurate - "One size saves all."

One confused Brit was brave enough to approach me and inquire after our presence; struggling for a clever response, I instead feigned a vow of silence, trying and failing to communicate with meaningless hand gestures.  When the BOTS did speak, it was a practice in improvisational call-and-response between Sister Siusiak's Polish and our semi-Slavic gibberish, punctuated liberally by the Polish slang for wiener.

Starting to question our own bizarre behavior, all we needed was to turn a corner for a loving affirmation.

Things reached a new pinnacle of strange when we formed a human triangle (facing inward with our hands on each other's shoulders) and began to vocalize in unison.  I'm willing to place a generous amount of accountability upon our choice of ensemble; with temperatures upwards of 110 degrees, the internal temperature of our space suits might very well have been delirium inducing.

You could say that we were getting carried away by the spirit of the Man Upstairs...

In the end, we couldn't decide if we were the lighthearted antidote to the hordes of picture pilgrims or ourselves symptomatic of the devolution of weird roadside in America.  As the conflict rages on, we are seriously considering making BOTS official.

We are mobilizing.

And Brother Cyrus says the reaping is nigh.

Resistance is futile.

If you don't want to get left behind, all you must do is "Jump in the Line."

"Jump in the Line" - Harry Belafonte (1961)
This video has been brought to you by Fartco, Inc.

Salvation Mountain

Beal Rd

Niland, CA

salvationmountain.us

Cheers and Amen!

Mr. Tiny
(Brother Diminutata)

One Man's Trash: The Treasure of the Watts Towers

Complacency and apathy are two pejoratives commonly associated with members of my particular generation.  I wish I could offer myself as a faultless rebuttal, refuting those generational jabs.  Sadly, I am probably the poster child for the insulting, if sometimes accurate, stereotypes.  It is my goal to celebrate the wacky tacky wonder of sites historically significant.  Nevertheless, I am guilty of taking for granted landmarks so firmly entrenched in the collective consciousness of our community that I often fail at my goal.  As it turns out, I am pathetically apathetic.

Apathy was certainly not a condition from which Simon "Sam" Rodia suffered; for more than thirty years he worked obsessively on building his dream.   In as many years, I never once made time to immerse myself in the genius of what is undeniably Rodia's and Southern California's greatest folk-art installation, the Watts Towers.

"The Towers" (1957)

Built on a residential block on a pie-shaped lot in decidedly-working-class Watts, the grandeur of Rodia's towers belies the humble surroundings.  Although his skills were masterful and his actions purposeful, it remains unclear as to whether there was a master plan when in 1921 Rodia began his masterpiece, "Nuestro Pueblo."

The technique was established early on.

James, our incredible tour guide, and Mary

James recounted growing up in the area when the towers were used
(officially and otherwise) as playground, community space, wedding
chapel, and water park; he explained how Rodia looked long and hard
for an ideal plot of land along the Red Car track that would bring a
steady stream of people - and their garbage (the very materials used
to build the towers) - to the site of his life's work.

Meant in part as an homage to the pilgrimage of his hometown's patron saint
(and the towers erected there in his honor),  Rodia's work also achieves the weird
 and wonderful heights of Antoni Gaudi's seminal work, La Sagrada Familia. 

With similar spirit as the notable folk architects behind Tio's Tacos, Nitt Witt Ridge, Grandma Prisbrey's Bottle Village, and the Mystery Castle, Rodia found beauty in repurposing utilitarian objects, dramatically transforming scrap metal, broken pottery, and discarded soda bottles into sky-scraping, skeletal towers.

Worthy of appreciation on many levels - architectural, artistic, historic - our deepest respect for the Watts Towers
is in the fact that it is fundamentally a giant trash castle!  Seashells, broken Bauer Pottery, Malibu Tile rejects, glass shards, used pop bottles, cracked porcelain dinnerware, and jagged jadite (things considered garbage) were given a second, and beautiful, life as part of Rodia's singular vision.

Behind gates since 1994's Northridge earthquake, it is difficult
to capture the scale of the towers.  James showed us how to exploit
the panorama feature on our phones in order to get a tower-to-toe
photograph of Mr. Tiny and the full height of the 99.5' tower.

In 1955, with little explanation, Mr. Rodia decided his magnum architectural opus was complete and deeded the land and structures to his neighbor.  After being slated for demolition in 1959, a group of USC students combined their resources to save the towers.  Now property of the State of California, The Watts Towers Arts Center is operated by the Cultural Affairs Department of the City of Los Angeles.  Continuing very much in the tradition of Sam Rodia, no apathy is allowed at The Watts Towers Arts Center.  With active after-school arts and music programs, artist residencies, concerts, and festivals, the center has become the centerpiece of the community.

Norma, Mary, and Noemi

 Norma oversees the community garden and turtle sanctuary (bottom left).
Noemi, one of the center's brilliant tour guides and resident historians,
took a good deal of her time to show us the grounds and share her personal
experiences of growing up across the street from the towers; she said that
through the Watts Riots of 1965 and the scariest days of the LA Riots (1992),
the Watts Towers remained free of vandalism and, to this day, there has never
been a need to remove graffiti!  She also admitted that as a child, she used to
bathe her dog in the Towers' baptismal font! 

Activism and community support keep the Watts Towers alive.  I was definitely changed and enlightened by our visit and by the well-informed staff.  If you are ever anywhere near Los Angeles, be sure to check your apathy at the door and experience the Watts Towers! 

The Watts Towers Arts Center

1727 E 107th St

Los Angeles, CA

(213)847-4646

wattstowers.us

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Chow Time: Tio's Tacos

I used to laugh derisively at self-righteous celebrities who would tout themselves as "spiritual" rather than religious.  The subtext always read that, in their enlightened transcendence, we plebeians had been left behind in a fetid miasma of simple faith.  As I mature (at a pace slower than any approved by modern developmental guidelines), I find in myself the ability to experience the spiritual, outside the confines of religion.  In situations quite devoid of church-sanctioned sanctity, I feel a genuine sense of peace.  In places quite unexpected, I feel a connection to the Divine.  I mean, imagine having a spiritual experience at a taco shop!!!

"Bienvenidos A Su Casa."
Tio's Tacos #1 Mariscos y Centro de Frutas Naturales (est. 1990) - Riverside, CA

Like a modern master filled with the spirit of Grandma Prisbey, Sam Rodia, and Art "Der Tinkerpaw" Beal, Martin Sanchez began Tio's Tacos as an expression of his culture, his history, and his faith.  Proving that wacky tacky isn't relegated to history or high finance, Sanchez weathered an unsteady economy and the uncertainty of the food-service industry to build this mecca of wacky tacky, turning a sidewalk vendor's cart into a chockablock city block in less than twenty-five years.  Seemingly founded on the principles of family, food, and thrift, this Mexican-restaurant-cum-folk-art-installation transforms what most would describe as garbage (think tin cans, broken bicycles, car parts, empty bottles, used toys) into a fantasy land of mermaids, myth, and pop culture.  Here, enveloped by the embrace of highly-personal artistic expression, Mr. Tiny was feeling downright holy! 

The ever-evolving landscape of meandering gardens, oyster-shell footpaths, mosaics, and
statuary are highlighted by grand-scale figures - mermaids, acrobats, spacemen, and more.
We're guessing that Popeye's tin-can-lid bell-bottoms all came from canned spinach - recycling at its best! 

Many of the giant figures are cleverly built around the trunks of the property's many towering palm trees.

Lest you think that we are overstating the grandeur of Sanchez' work,
I've included Mary, who stands at six-feet tall, for scale.

The technique of binding castoffs with chicken wire
is as surprisingly-genius to me as it is to Betty Boop!

If there is one thing I appreciate far less than a spiritually-superior celebrity, it is a movie quoter.  Why did it take so long for Austin Powers' "Yeah, baby!!!" to go away?  Well, in a further admission of my own reluctant maturity, I have come to realize that this prejudice is an example of me disliking a quality in others that I exhibit all too often.  I frequently quote movies; it's just that the movies I tend to reference are generally greater than fifty years old (or at least movies set in a bygone era).  When walking the grounds of Tio's Tacos, only one thought came to mind, a quotation from A Christmas Story.  Like Mr. Parker faced with the major award of that infamous leg lamp, the only words I could utter when faced with the awe-inspiring wonder of this taqueria were, "It's, it's, it's...it's indescribably beautiful!"

But I guess my sense of spirituality wasn't too misplaced; Tio's sprawling grounds also include a chapel built of
bottles, mirrors, statuary, and assorted recycled material.  We were particularly fond of the picture mosaic dome.

Out of everything, my real obsessions were the bottle-glass walls that caught the light beautifully
both inside and out.  I really fell in love with these walls - call it a harlequin romance!!

Reminders of Sanchez' faith and his native state of Michoacan abounded.
I felt like heavenly signs were everywhere.

I guess it is at this point where I should say that there are also plenty of signs at Tio's Tacos of a far more secular nature - "Cuidado: Suelo Mojado," "Do not leave children unattended," "We will not be responsible for any damages or accidents that occur," "Photographs taken for commercial purposes are prohibited."  Just so readers and Tio's management are aware, as of publication of this post, wacky tacky and Mr. Tiny remain entirely unremunerated for any of our activities and adventures (although we wouldn't necessarily turn our noses up at an offer....).

We're just here for FUN!!!

And real fun can be found in some of Tio's more sophisticated offerings.

We spent so much time wheeling around the grounds on our pint-sized trikes that we almost - almost -  forgot to eat.  We made our way into the actual restaurant, past a three-dimensional, marine-life diorama and the jewel box of mouth-watering aguas frescas.

We left so little time to eat that we both ignored the house recommendations and just panic-ordered the taco salad at the counter.  We were given the obligatory chips and salsa, which incidentally is the best part of any Mexican restaurant meal, and were sent to get our aguas frecas.  I opted for guayaba (my favorite) and Mary spent an inordinate amount of time sampling juices and having a custom-blend concocted that included chia seeds (I warned her that the side effects of ingesting chia seeds include an unexpected green mohawk sprouting up at inopportune moments).

There are many dining areas from which to choose;
we chose to eat near the chapel.  A fiddle player
followed us to add a little musical accompaniment to
our lunch.  He and Mary make a handsome couple, no?

There is definitely nourishment for the body and soul at Tio's Tacos #1 Mariscos y Centro de Frutas Naturales.  It may seem a hackneyed phrase but one man's trash is certainly another man's, namely Martin Sanchez' treasure.  Tio's Tacos is his gift to the City of Riverside and to this wide world of wacky tacky lovers!

Tio's Tacos #1 Mariscos y Centro de Frutas Naturales

3948 Mission Ave

Riverside, CA

(951)788-0230

tiostacos1.com

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny