East Jesus on a Slab

Look at a map of the Coachella Valley and you’ll find a plethora of wonderful side trips to educate and warp the mind. The Colorado high desert and Joshua Tree are just an hour North. Swing the other way around and you can be in the artist community of Idyllwild in the San Jacinto Mountains. Drop south and things get really interesting with the Salton Sea, Salvation Mountain and ‘The Slabs.’

If you take a right at the Salton Sea, you’ll end up in East Jesus and West Satan. Unlike the posh country clubs and rarified Aire that is of Palm Springs legend, this is a ‘lost world’ replete with fascinating characters, RV vagabonds and a few stragglers who look like human residue scrapped up from the bottom of civilized society. It’s a step back in time and void of any semblance to a world that vacationers have come to expect of Palm Springs.

East Jesus is next to West Satan which is just a stone’s throw away from Salvation Mountain. I passed the Fountain of Youth trailer park on the way into town. I think you get the drift.

The Salton Sea was cloaked in a shroud of mist and smell and dead fish on the day I ventured there. Fortunately, it was cool in the morning so the smell wasn’t overwhelming even if the rotting carcasses of Tilapia was a bit disconcerting to walk on. Further down the road past the trailers of Bombay Beach was the sad remains of Camp Dunlap, a World War Two Marine base lost in the desert. Appropriately named Slab City, the Quonset huts are gone now and only the concrete slabs remain.

Just down the road from Salvation Mountain, two former guard huts announce the entrance to Slab City. It’s estimated that there are about one hundred and fifty permanent residents (squatters) who live in the Slabs all-year round. Some live on government checks, others just want to live ‘off the grid’ and a few come to stretch out their retirement income. The camp has no electricity, no running water, no sewers or toilets and no trash pickup service. Sounds like a dry run for the apocalypse.

Despite the free shoe tree on the way into town and the free library, most of the residents have sectioned off their trailers, tents and sleeping bags with tires, pallets, or barbwire. Free is free unless it comes to their piece of heaven in the desert then even the squatters want their personal space recognized.

The library is an eclectic collection of cast-off books and magazines all free for the taking. The floor was dirt and the ceiling clear blue sky or sheets stretched between sections. The reading lounge was mainly occupied by lizards, tarantulas, and small droppings of a questionable nature. When I was there, the proprietor encouraged me to visit the art gallery at East Jesus which is next to West Satan. A request like that couldn’t be ignored.

East Jesus has been described as an experimental, sustainable, habitable, art installation. I was told that East Jesus is a colloquialism for the middle of nowhere beyond the edge of services. Made from discarded material that has been reused, recycled, or repurposed, East Jesus encourages visitors to imagine a world without waste in which every action is an opportunity for self-expression.

I think West Satan is a simply a suburb of East Jesus. The art gallery there was fascinating and mind-expanding. My wife, ever the one to encompass clear insight into as few words as possible, simply called it ‘bad art.’

Either way it was a fun trip that gave birth to other mind images that are still whirling around in my head. Someday they just might start leaking out my fingertips into future storylines. My visit challenged the notion of ‘what art is’ and dragged us out of our comfort zone for at least one afternoon.

It was at once fascinating, intriguing, sad, mind-expanding, and challenging. It was finding iconic and cultural-pop treasures in the middle of nowhere California…just a stones-throw from Palm Springs and the flip side of reality there.

It was tripping out without the acid and a glimpse into the lives of those who don’t want to be a part of ‘any scene’ here in fantasy land or the rest of the world.

I get it. They got it…and want to keep it that way.

High Lonesome

Far from the crystal-clear pools of Palm Springs and its emerald green golf courses lies another world. A world of vast nothingness peppered with the sad remnants of past lives and etchings scratched in the rocks. It’s a place where stillness thunders louder than the wind and God did some of his finest work. High and lonesome.

Sharon and I have been traveling to this wilderness mecca ever since the kids were still in school and offspring weren’t even a part of the equation. We’ve taken friends there as part of the Palm Springs experience when they’ve come to visit. It’s part and parcel of the Southern California magic. Joshua Tree is a world unto its own.

This world-renowned national park and its surrounding communities embrace another form of existence; all of which is surrounded by endless horizons. The area is a mecca for aging rock stars, artists and modern-day bohemians along with ordinary people all in search of a new beginning. It’s the place where people go to get lost and then forgotten.

The high desert of the Morongo Basin is like a modern-day outback of more than 9.5 million acres of public land in the California desert. Its home to old walking trails first used by Native Americans between seasonal encampments then followed by Spanish explorers and finally 19^th century gold seekers and pioneers.

1.7-billion-year-old rocks compete for attention with the ancient land mass of Rodinia and King Clone and 11.000-year-old creosote bush that began its life during the retreat of the last Ice Age. It was a desolate wilderness and home to cowboys, outlaws, roaming Indian people and Mexican traders.

Reminders of past human lives are everywhere. Abandoned mines litter the area with their relics of past hopes and dreams scattered about the ground. A restored railroad depot stands alone with its tracks still leading nowhere. Ramshackle old cabins planted amid miles of sage and scrub brush, sit isolated and lonely in the desert. The evidence is all here if you can look past the dust and dirt and castles made of boulders to imagine all the past lives that once past through this place on the way to a better life.

Before and during the 1950s, the high desert was home to simple shacks on homesteaded land. No water, electricity, or amenities. Initially L.A. outlaws, urban rebels and the adventurous few gravitated to this Spartan existence. Over time, the elements took their toll and many shacks were abandoned and forgotten. Most reverted back to the Bureau of Land Management.

Then in the 1960s and 70s, artists, musicians, urban castaways, and bohemian rebels found the high desert a perfect refuge from the craziness that had overtaken most of the coastal cities. These new explorers flocked to the area in their VW pop-up campers, tents, sleeping bags and simple woolen blankets. It was like an unorganized gathering of like-minded souls each of whom was lost inside their own head.

More recently, high architectural drama followed in the form of classic modern dwellings. Gradually, there grew a vibe, an undercurrent of interest and excitement about high desert living. VRBO and AirBnB locales began sprouting up everywhere.

A whole new generation of architectural aficionados, Gen Xers, boomers, urban pioneers, and retirees are reclaiming the desert and rebuilding those dilapidated shacks into something more attractive-only this time with all the amenities. A lot of the Airbnb listings are remodeled versions of these old shacks that used to be part of a homesteading craze decades ago.

Right from the start, we wanted to introduce our grandchildren to this playground for the imagination. Much like the high-altitude cerebral vacuum of the San Jacinto Mountains, Joshua Tree is the perfect setting for letting their minds wander and bump into thoughts and ideas and feelings they never knew were lurking there.

It means nestling into a large boulder, resting your head on its warm pillow of granite, looking up at the pure blue flawless sky and listening to your surroundings. The stillness will batter your eardrums with a quiet so loud that all you can do is retreat back inside your head for peace and serenity.

The high desert is a cornucopia of images, lifestyles, attitudes, ambitions, and dreams from a plethora of characters; real and imagined. It’s where you go to lose yourself and perhaps find the unexpected. It’s where the ghosts of past rock and roller stars still play their mournful ballads for no one to hear but the wind.

And it’s where writers go to ask ‘what if.’

Art Around Every Corner

Unlike a lot of cities, Palm Springs and its neighboring communities don’t have just one art district. Perhaps it’s the continuing and encouraged diversity of its inhabitants or the friendly rivalry between cities up and down the Coachella Valley. Whatever the reason, there are artist enclaves scattered throughout the valley and each carries its own special uniqueness.

Art and Palm Springs go together like the blended reaction of alcohol ink spread out on a tupo paper. The area is a strange cornucopia of harsh geography, colorful history and strange transplants who have transformed this stretch of desert into a playground for artists of every ilk.

On the surface, Palm Springs is known as a desert oasis, a fashionable resort town and global mecca for innovative modern architecture. Among the founders of Desert Modernism were Bauhaus-influenced architects Albert Frey and E. Stewart Williams, whose legacies can still be seen in numerous public and private structures around town. But beneath that façade of blue skies and bright white modern buildings is an environment bubbling over with creative endeavors from all the arts.

From the outrageously expensive art pieces on El Paseo Drive in Palm Desert to the rudimentary scratch pieces at the East Jesus outdoor gallery in Slab City, artistic endeavors have taken on every imaginable form and fashion, shape and design, subtle and in-your-face expressions of thought and ideas.

The Backstreet Art district is located several miles from downtown Palm Springs in an old strip shopping mall. There are dozens of artist-owned galleries and working studios which feature paintings, sculpture, photography, jewelry, ceramics as well as space for the performing arts.

A much larger area for artists is located at the Palm Springs Art Museum and north of downtown in the Art and Design District. At one time this area was a barren stretch of boarded up storefronts and half empty motels that offered none of the glamor and cache of old or new Palm Springs. Over time that changed and now the Uptown Art and Design District is a true enclave of galleries, design shops, restaurants and housing for the creative minded types.

The Ultimate in artistic regeneration and commercial display is located down the valley in Palm Desert. El Paseo Drive is a mile long commercial strip that is generations and millions of dollars removed from the mud huts of early painters deep in the desert. It is meant to embody the style and elegance of high society in the desert. This art-strung boulevard houses over 250 retailers, professional services, renowned restaurants and locally owned boutiques. It is the ultimate avenue for anything and everything you never knew you needed or wanted.

Desert art has come a long way from those first ancient petroglyphs through ‘en plein air’ to the rich tapestry of creative talent that resides here now. There are a plethora of art shows, film festivals, world-class gallery and museum events, rotating exhibitions, national touring and locally produced theater, classical to contemporary music concerts, couture fashion shows and architecture and design tours. The Southwest Arts Festival is just one of a dozen or more art festivals throughout ‘the season.’

South of Palm Springs and the Coachella Valley lies a cluster of primeval ancient relics of art that confuse, shock and amuse the errant wanderer who happens upon their grounds. I discovered that several years ago when I stumbled upon several enclaves of mystery just south of the Salton Sea.

Down a dusty road from the Salton Sea is Salvation Mountain. This strange collection of painted hills is one of the premiere examples of folk art in the middle of nowhere America. The site has become a mecca for those influenced by and intrigued with this kaleidoscope of painted hills, crude cave dwellings and religious scripture. The cave’s paint can and hay bale construction would challenge even the most daring of spelunkers.

The artwork is made from adobe, straw and thousands of gallons of lead-free paint. It was created by the late Leonard Knight (1931-2014). A deeply religious man, Knight created an art piece that encompasses numerous murals and areas painted with Christian sayings and Bible verses. Knight’s philosophy was built around the ‘Sinners Prayer.’

Slab City otherwise known as ‘The Slabs’ is a snowbird campsite used by recreational vehicle owners alongside squatters from across North America. It takes its name from the concrete slabs that remain from an abandoned World War II Marine barracks of Camp Dunlap.

It’s estimated that there are about one and fifty permanent residents (squatters) who live in the Slabs year around. Some live on government checks, others just want to live ‘off the grid’ and a few come to stretch out their retirement income. The camp has no electricity, no running water, no sewers or toilets and no trash pickup service. Sounds like a dry run for the apocalypse.

Despite the free shoe tree on the way into town and the free library, most of the residents have sectioned off their trailers, tents and sleeping bags with tires, pallets or barbwire. Free is free unless it comes to their piece of the desert then even squatters want their personal space recognized.

No trip to Slab City would be complete without a swing by East Jesus. East Jesus has been described as an experimental, sustainable art installation. East Jesus is a colloquialism for the middle of nowhere beyond the edge of services. Made from discarded material that has been reused, recycled or repurposed, East Jesus encourages visitors to imagine a world without waste in which every action is an opportunity for self-expression.

West Satan is simply a suburb of East Jesus. I found the art gallery there fascinating and mind-expanding. It was tripping out without the acid and a glimpse into the lives of those who don’t want to be a part of ‘any scene’ here in fantasy land or the rest of the world.

The high desert communities of the Morongo Valley, Yucca Valley and Joshua tree continue to attract artists and musicians now as it has since the turn of the century. This is another world of vast nothingness peppered with the sad remnants of past lives. It’s a place where stillness thunders louder than the wind and God did some of his finest paintings. It is a vast virtual sound studio for the creative musician and blank canvas for artists of every discipline.

The area is a mecca for aging rock stars and modern-day bohemians along with ordinary people all in search of a new beginning. It’s the place where people go to get lost and be creative.

Joshua tree and these surrounding communities embrace another form of existence; all of which is surrounded by endless horizons.

Yet as much as time changes the flavor of art, Sharon and I still get to immerse ourselves in the daily show all around us. Each morning, sunlight still dances off of the mountain side and casts imaginative shadows over our lives. It’s like a new show taking place every day and we get to be in the audience and enjoying that celestial talent from above.