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A Word from Richard Risemberg for October, 2005The Cornfield This being the last Friday of the month, it was Critical Mass night in LA, and this time my dear wife Gina went along. She rode her bike to work, and a little after six I met her at her office and we wound through the streets, cruising side roads to avoid the grinding rush hour traffic. A dry thunderstorm was passing overhead, and the low sun striking through the shreds and swirls of cloud drew every shade of silver, gold, and grey out of the sky. It was a beautiful evening.
The Critical Mass ride gathers at the Wilshire & Western Metro station in our part of town, across from the Art Deco Wiltern theater. the variety of both people and velocipedes was, as usual, extreme, with folks almost universally dressed in what passes for "normal" clothing in LA--rather than bike tights. Rolled up jeans and tank tops on a lot of the women and girls, baggy black jackets (despite the heat) on a lot of the guys, everything from polo shirts to office slacks otherwise. it's not, after all, a race, but an hour and a half of living in a better future on the streets of car-weary Los Angeles. Joe Linton, one of the disorganizers, is also active in LA River issues, and tonight's ride took over Wilshire boulevard for a jaunt downtown, through the financial district and Chinatown to end up at the former Cornfield, once a real cornfield, then a railroad yard where I once spent a couple of years sporadically photographing hoboes, and now slated to become a school, senior citizens center, and park. (This after a long battle to prevent it from becoming yet another warren of tilt-up warehouses in the heart of LA--for the Cornfield is the literal birthplace of the city.) But this summer there is a most unusual art installation covering the entire 32 acres. The art installation consists of, well, a cornfield--actual corn growing over the entire site, with two passages cut through it for people to walk through, and a crop-circle design in the middle; and in the middle of that, a small mound with blankets, a fire pit, and a Chinese paper lantern glowing red in the night. The three or four dozens bikes scrunched along the dirt path, following the intimate glow of tiny headlights between the walls of living corn that stood higher than our heads. In the night, in Los Angeles, with the towers of Downtown glowing at the end of the passage, we wound our way to the center and stood by the fire for a while, with the others who had arrived by foot or by car or by the Gold Line which passes along the western edge. The night sky was serene above our heads, and the city smelled of sweet green growth. We had obligations and stayed only a little while, but the ride back was sweet as well, through a downtown deserted by all but artists and homeless folk, down 7th Street where all the Central American storefront churches rang with music and preaching, then down the busy, bumpy stretch of Wilshire near our apartment. A sweet night, a good end to the week and the month, a good beginning to fall. A taste of a better world to come. The corn will be harvested soon, but for while at least the website will certainly remain. Go to www.notacornfield.info to learn more, or just to enjoy....
Richard Risemberg Go to A Word from Eric Miller
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