Photos by Tommy Tung

By Retna and El Mac

By Retna and El Mac

By Mear One

By Kofie

Photo Slide Show By Nancy Accomando

Video By Linsey Levine

Story By Lisa Manson

Often mistakenly dubbed as the “Mexican Halloween,” Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, holds a special significance to the descendants of the Meso-Americans. Part of a ritual that has been practiced for over 3,000 years, Dia de los Muertos honors death as a continuation of life. Celebrants wear skull masks, called calacas, or face paint to honor deceased relatives and build elaborate altars to fill with offerings for the dead. For all its mysticism, at its core, the celebration is about family and community.

This past October, the art community came together at the Carter Sexton gallery to enjoy the debut solo show of photographer and Forth contributor Nancy Accomando, who has been documenting the local celebration of Dia de los Muertos for years. Admittedly, I was no expert on the Dia de los Muertos celebrations, but I have long been awed by the intricate and colorful painted faces that seem to be ubiquitous around Halloween. So I came to the show not only to view some art, but also to learn.

Nancy’s photo-documentary was shot in October 2009, during the week long celebration on Olvera Street in Downtown Los Angeles. Olvera Street’s Dia de los Muertos is a rich and festive experience (and knowing what Olvera Street is like on a normal day, this came as no surprise). In addition to her photographs, Nancy also created a “shadow box,” which featured a paper mache skull with Day of the Dead-themed designs on it . If you looked through the eyes of the skulls, you could see a slide show of Nancy’s images that were shot during the first event she documented. Through these pieces, Nancy was able to capture the sense of community along with the sense of celebration. The focus of her photographs was the people, both those who have obviously been participants in the ceremony for years (and had their calacas down to a science) and those who were clearly new to the tradition. Nancy’s lens gave them equal significance, since both represent the diverse and dynamic community of Los Angeles. By doing this, she was able to show that the celebration is simply an “appreciation of a time we all share together in this world and beyond.”

The gallery itself also served as a host for a mini celebration, which truly drove home the theme of community. People broke bread (or taquitos), sipped sangria, and filled the cozy gallery with a happy clamor of conversation. The real treat (besides the delicious food) was when the crowd parted for a group of four elaborately-dressed women with full skull makeup. In the middle of the room, they improvised an eerily beautiful dance to three Mexican-influenced songs. The dance group, known as “The Nautch Conspiracy,” is composed of Leila Maitland, Cory Podielski, Hannah Trimbath, and Jennifer Knott. When that was over, and while you were waiting to get some face-time with the artist, you could wander outside and get some airbrush art from Mr. Hoodbrush. Fun and festive times abound. For someone who came in knowing Dia de los Muertos simply as “Mexican Halloween,” I left feeling like I knew a little something more about the Los Angeles community of which I am now a part.

Unfortunately, the exhibition ended on November 12th, but many of the pieces (and others) can still be seen on Nancy’s website:

nancyaccomando.weebly.com.

Quick View:
WHAT: “Dia de los Muertos: Olvera St., L.A.” at Carter Sexton Gallery
WHERE: 5308 Laurel Canyon Blvd., North Hollywood, CA
WHEN: October 8th, 2010, 6 pm – 12 am
WEBSITES: nancyaccomando.weebly.com
cartersexton.com/mrhoodbrush.com

Read and Listen to the Interview

Listen to the Interview

It’s a beautiful Thursday afternoon in the Brentwood hills, peaceful and quiet as though I’m no longer in L.A. The Southwest-style clubhouse of the Riviera Country Club stands gallant and vast, like the home of a Columbian drug lord, and I’m here for the quarterly luncheon of the Saint John’s Retired Physician’s Association. In spite of my shadowy past as an amateur surgeon and street pharmacist, I am in fact here to interview the former Los Angeles District Attorney and now prominent photographer Gil Garcetti, who is today’s main speaker. But I’m sweating in the sun while taking these notes and must move toward the clubhouse. Suddenly, I wonder if there’s a no-denim policy here, as is customary among country clubs. I’m wearing blue jeans. The sign just outside the main entrance reads Proper Attire Required… Not sure exactly what that means.

Photography by Bona Hong

Upon entering and finding the conference area, I’m thoroughly surprised and certainly under-dressed—I’m the only one under sixty years-old and not wearing a suit. The gathering looks like a small Bar Mitzvah, for a kid that has no friends—only old relatives: full spread, waiters in tuxedos, and elderly gentleman in blazers. I did not plan on this.

And then I see Gil, the only other man not adorned in jacket and tie, and I feel slightly more at ease. Clad in a cherry red sweater and black corduroys, he’s smiling and warmly welcomes me in, laughing: “Look at us! I think we’re underdressed.” I feel better upon his lightheartedness, though of course, he looks much less like he just rolled out of bed than I. Gil is a spark—the guy glows. He reminds me of a chiseled statue, colored and come to life, with vibrant eyes and high cheek bones. His crisp white hair and large smile make him extremely charismatic, quite a presence and certainly the center of attention in this room. The artist has come to life in a character I wouldn’t expect from the former District Attorney of Los Angeles. Gil is a celebrated photographer now, but it’s clear in his confident grin that he can still hold his own in the high-society crowd of politicians, celebrities, and in this case, physicians.

Photography by Bona Hong

He sits down for just a few minutes with me privately while the members of the organization are still trickling in, explaining more about the reason for today’s presentation. Today he’ll be talking about Water is Key, one of his more recent books of photography, which casts light on an initiative he is heavily invested in: Clean Water in West Africa. He tells me just a bit about the horrible diseases—blindness, Guinea Worm, infection—as well as a string of other problems stemming from the lack of safe water in the small villages of West Africa. I’m enthralled listening to his story about the problems and ultimately the solutions that he is trying to convey with this photographic work.

The most significant point is that the water needed already exists! But the poverty-stricken African governments do not have the resources, knowledge, or organization to drill into the ground to access the water. Gil now works with a Nonprofit and a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) that can and does drill these wells. For only $12,000, he tells me, a well leading to safe water can be built in a village, which will provide for the entire township—500 to 1000 people—for several generations. And the non-profit he works with (WellsBringHope.org) will match funds. Hence, a donation of $6000 can provide water for an entire village, which prevents disease, improves education for females (since they won’t have to spend the entire day fetching water from a distant and dirty watering hole), provides for agriculture, jobs, latrines, and thus generally sustains life for thousands of people over several decades. Six-thousand-dollars!! I’m floored. He smiles, understanding my reaction, as was his when he first learned of the situation. And this is the reason for his exhibition today. The doctors have invited him…well, because they always invite someone of note to address their luncheons. But Gil has come with a mission, to raise a few eyebrows and perhaps a few dollars in support of the cause. At the very least, to make some book sales, as all proceeds from his book go directly to the mission. But he smiles and proclaims under his breath, “It might be tough. Doctor’s are like lawyers—we both tend to be cheap.” We both chuckle.

Photography by Bona Hong

We are all invited into the foyer then to have a go at the lunch spread. The wait staff looks at me as though I must be crashing, or perhaps I’ve made a mistake, a wrong turn off Sunset Boulevard. But I haven’t—I’m in the right place, leather-metal bracelet, worn Hush Puppies, and blue jeans. Though, just as I’m picking up a plate to delve into the fruit, I feel a tap on my shoulder… “Excuse me, sir,” a woman says from behind me, “you can’t wear jeans in the clubhouse.” Thus begins a 20-minute fiasco of my trying to negotiate an exception in this case, since I’m covering a story, followed by a stern refusal from the manager and his insistence that I wear a pair of non-denim pant wear they happen to have in the office—remnants of the lost & found, I’m sure. After trying on several pairs, I finally find one that fits—an ugly, deep blue, sweat-like material that appears shamefully worse than the jeans with which I started. The manager agrees that they look absurd—now I truly appear to have rolled out of bed—and yet he can’t seem to break the rules. I don’t understand this at all. But…rules are rules…I guess.

Photography by Bona Hong