One afternoon while I was in New York I got a missed call from my mom and a text with a video saying: “its all gone…” I immediately called her back to find out that while she was heading to one of my stepdads warehouses to sell an item on facebook marketplace she had seen black smoke rise above the freeway. She noticed how it maintained close to her destination; 1700 21st Industrial St. Vernon CA. As she drove down the street she realized that it was us, our building, the only building in site on fire. The fire department was there but my mom was the first to discover amongst the people who used the warehouse. The firemen had said they received a call at 5:00am about the fire spreading from the local encampment to the building’s shed. We are not sure why they arrived at 10:00 or 11:00am. They said they couldn’t save the building, I don’t understand how, but they let it collapse. The car lights of a truck left inside had melted off, I had no hope, and I was stuck in New York, as if I could do anything anyway.
I had recently visited before I went to New York to help my mom organize our personal items. I decided to bring some things with me. Fortunately this meant I could remember for the most part that of which I lost.
It was quite surreal partially because a few days before I had just visited the Whitney Biennial which I found inspiring. I found myself on the terrace with glass brick. I’ve always appreciated glass brick, typically the vintage kind you don’t see anymore but this was in the shape of regular bricks, well that was because it was a fire place. I wondered why it was outside all alone, isolated from foot traffic. After I finally read the description I discovered how this piece was representative of the artist Kelly Akashi’s home after the Altadena fire’s in Los Angeles. I began to feel a sense of what others must have felt like during that time, a delayed connection, from the same place of the earth, but not the same exact loss.
The piece that stuck with me the most was by Kamrooz Aram, entitled “Descendants (Luster on Blue Glaze)”, what struck me the most was to see how simply it was made, beautiful through its minimalistic balanced color choices, with a sense of texture amongst the paint and the print. I appreciated the linen canvas creating a warm gritty background, allowing the white to be more intentional. I thought to myself as one creative does, “I could make something like that”, which ultimately inspired me to start making art again, this time freely, no classes or thoughts of teachers to deal with.
A few days after the fire I flew back from my stay at 47A Vernon Ave, Apt 2, Brooklyn to 1700 E 21st Industrial St, Vernon, CA.
Looking back, there was really not much to see… the only walls left were the facade. A water pipe still running, probably where the bathroom was. It was hard to gauge anything at all. I think I imagined being able to walk up to the place where my things were and see how it melted, how it died, but I was not blessed with such drama and pain. Instead it was just a mess. I took better photos on my film camera which I plan to switch out with these photos when I finish the roll. The funniest part about all of this was discovering a fire extinguisher isolated from the mess.
After a couple weeks I decided to stretch a canvas for the first time. I had the privilege of finding all the materials I needed in my house from different people. Juan Carlos had just previously given me some linen canvas, my mother saved painting frames in the back of her studio. I borrowed his tools and quickly made my first blank canvas. I painted it that day as well, I was feeling ambitious. This is how it turned out.
I had decided to honor the fire and the death of my stuff by creating a piece of art. My commitment forced me to face the aftermath in order to find materials. At the time it felt easier to just continue my life without having to pause for something thats dead, but I also think I owed it to myself to let my eyes and body to experience the end of what had happened. I found my step-dads entire record collection melted, some seemingly in tact and I took a few. There was a wet newspaper which stated; “fire brings attention…” that was trippy. It was hard to make out most things I saw there which had its own benefit. Once we realized how dense everything was, I gathered my materials and we headed out.
I merely used paint as a means to call it a painting, but more so to bring some cohesion to the whole thing. In order to honor what I lost, like someone who misses, I tried my best ton recreate exactly what had burned. I was lucky enough to have photos my some of my negatives which I took on a light box and inverted the colors. I printed them onto film used for creating solar prints.
These photos were taken while I was at Bard, a lot of why I was sad to loose my negatives and many other things was that many of my memories and experiences were stored in these items, journals, photos, and birthday cards. I started taking photos when I found my mothers orange paper box full of printed ones. Many were moments I was never told of, or I didn’t remember. It inspired me to take photos out of fear of forgetting the past, or really the present. Its hard to believe people change, but sometimes all it takes is an old photo to see. Ironically that box of photos was in the building. It had actually turned into a whole bin of messy photos unorganized of my childhood and before. A couple years before they had survived a flood, but my mom had saved many by drying them out in the sun. I’m so grateful that I got to see them and photograph them.
