One of the murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
A few weeks ago, I was feeling stir crazy from staying at home during the COVID-19 pandemic (other than walking in my neighborhood and taking a few trips to the grocery store), so I drove to San Francisco’s Mission District to see the Clarion Alley Mural Project. The project is a series of murals, mostly with a social justice theme, painted in Clarion Alley, which runs for one block between 17th and 18th streets and Mission and Valencia streets. Clarion Alley Mural Project (CAMP) was established in 1992 by a volunteer collective of six residents/artists who were inspired by the murals of Balmy Alley, another Mission District alley covered in murals that were created in the early ’70s as an expression of artists’ outrage over human rights and political abuses in Central America.
Murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.Murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
I can’t believe I hadn’t seen Clarion Alley before! I still remember the first time I heard about it: It was 2006, and I was working as a therapist-in-training at my first practicum position, at my graduate school’s outpatient therapy clinic. A young man I was treating for mood and social problems asked me if I knew about “that alley in the Mission with all the murals.” Despite going to the Mission District all the time and being an art lover, somehow I had never made it to Clarion Alley (or Balmy Alley, for that matter). After my client asked me about it, I forgot about the murals, and strangely, I never came across them during any of my days or nights walking around the neighborhood.
Doorways of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
One of the important messages embodied by Clarion Alley is that there should be a place for artists in San Francisco. Gentrification, prioritization of corporations and the wealthy, and a lack of affordable housing and work spaces have pushed artists, as well as many other longtime residents of the Mission, out of the area. Many of the murals address other social justice issues and pay tribute to prominent community members.
My trip the alley was just OK. The murals and other street art in the area were amazing and inspiring. However, it was hard to fully appreciate all the beauty and meaning: With the pandemic going on, I don’t have as much enthusiasm for exploring. Also, I felt like I was doing something wrong by leaving my neighborhood–not following the spirit of the shelter-in-place directive. On top of that, I was sad to see so many homeless people out and about, some in pretty rough shape. Not that that’s unusual in San Francisco, sadly. But the number of people who appeared homeless and were acting out (e.g., yelling, throwing garbage) seemed less typical, plus none were wearing masks. Homelessness and poverty, as well as untreated mental illness, are for sure the types of issues the artists of Clarion Alley are trying to highlight.
Despite the problems of my visit, I am glad to have seen Clarion Alley. After going, I did a lot of online research to learn more about the project. And, next time I feel inspired to leave my neighborhood, I would like to see Balmy Alley. Read more about the Clarion Alley Mural Project and Balmy Alley to learn about the history of both projects.
Note that photos of the Clarion Alley murals are not to be used for any commercial purpose, and permission should be obtained from CAMP before using the site as a location for photography. I attempted to contact CAMP before publishing this blog post, but I did not receive a reply so am hoping that my reasons for showing my photos of some of the murals–to inform my blog readers about CAMP–will fit with the project’s intent.
Still from Tiger King, the Netflix documentary series on Joe Exotic.
The Current State of Things with COVID-19
Wow, how things have changed since my last post on March 14th! At that time, things were heating up with the COVID-19 pandemic, but I was still going to work at my university counseling center job, and we were not yet “sheltering in place,” which started in San Francisco, where I live, on Tuesday, March 17th.
I hope everyone is weathering the ups and downs of this frightening situation as best they can. We all have our particular layers of stress and difficulty. Some of us are isolated and alone. Some are out of work and frightened about how to make ends meet, and some have lost their health insurance along with their job. While some folks have been busy scrambling to transition to working at home with little time (and in some cases, little tech support) to prepare, others are bored with too much free time. Some are living with others, navigating the pressures of being in a confined space together and not being able to get out or have much personal space. Many are struggling to balance multiple roles, such as working from home while parenting 24/7 and overseeing their children’s schooling. Still others are sick or concerned about friends and loved ones who are sick. Then, we have our heroes on the front lines of health care who are putting themselves at risk to take care of the ill. We also have those working in other essential jobs who are at increased risk of exposure but are doing what they have to do.
My heart goes out to everyone. I’m navigating my own ups and downs through this and finding my ways of coping. We each have our own needs and styles. I’ve been coping with being isolated (working at home and living alone) by reading, watching TV and videos, listening to music, taking virtual dance classes, going for walks, doing photography, and overcoming my introvert tendencies to stay in contact with friends more than usual.
I have been aware of my mixed feelings about some of the media I’ve been consuming. I’ve felt the need to limit my overall exposure to news and to avoid certain COVID-related stories. News overload and particularly frightening articles can make me fearful and anxious to a degree that doesn’t feel healthy, so I’ve been more careful about taking breaks and choosing what I read.
Reality TV
In addition to noticing the impact of news on my emotional health, I’ve also been pondering some of the shows I’ve watched that fall into the category of “trash TV”: The two I recently binge-watched, much to my chagrin (although I’m by no means alone), are Tiger King and Love Is Blind on Netflix. For anyone who hasn’t heard of these shows, Tiger King is a documentary series about a man with a private zoo (mainly containing big cats) whose life is a morass of chaos, conflict, and controversy. Love Is Blind is a reality show in which contestants spend a couple weeks “dating” “blind”–each in a separate room, talking to their date but not being able to see them. The contestants were encouraged to propose to the person they liked best, go on a trip together, live together, and get married, all within about a month and a half.
Still from Love Is Blind on Netflix.
I was entertained by both shows, although I felt alternately titillated, disgusted, judgmental, curious, and ashamed throughout watching. In the recent past, I haven’t spent too much time on reality TV or salacious programming, although it’s not like I’m totally above this kind of entertainment: I was an avid fan of The Real World and its spin-off, Road Rules. I’ve watched various reality shows and tabloid talk shows, been a reader of Perez Hilton’s low-brow gossip blog, and been fascinated by trashy true crime series and alien abduction investigation shows. I’m still a huge fan of Project Runway.
The History of “Trash TV”
When you look at the rise of reality TV, particularly the trashy variety, it can seem like a purely contemporary phenomenon. Reality programming (with different degrees of sensationalism) really took off the 1990s with shows like Survivor and various tabloid talk shows, among others, and in the 2000s with a whole slew of shows–the Idol and Real Housewives franchises, Keeping up with the Kardashians, The Amazing Race, Fear Factor … But these shows had their roots in earlier “reality shows” of the ’40s and ’50s, like Queen for a Day and Candid Camera. There were sensational shows throughout the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s (e.g., The Dating Game, The Newlywed Game, Geraldo) that were a part of the lineage of what we think of as modern-day reality TV.
Still from The Newlywed Game, 1970s.Still from The Newlywed Game, 1970s.
An Ongoing Taste for Sensationalism
In thinking about this type of entertainment, I became curious about our taste for gossip, unscripted real-life drama, and salacious tales before TV was ubiquitous. Some of us may have a romanticized view of the past, thinking that maybe people used to have better taste or higher standards for entertainment. But that isn’t true.
As far back as recorded human history, we have been drawn to consume and tell stories. Psychologists have said that one of the most prominent evolutionary features that separates humans from other primates is our mirror neuron system, which allows us to quickly perceive and relate to what other people are doing and feeling. Because humans have this ability and an inborn and adaptive interest in the lives and stories of other people, we have been able to create complex cultures and languages (Stromberg, 2009) and to engage in storytelling. This long history of oral history and telling tales contains many branches, one of which is sensationalism.
One form of sensational storytelling is gossip. Although technically, gossip can be defined as “talking about someone who is not present,” whether positive, negative, or neutral, we usually use the word to refer to saying negative things about someone, spreading rumors, and betraying secrets. Studies show that there may be an evolutionary benefit to talking about others, so we can bond and share social information across a larger network than our immediate connections (Gottfried, 2019); thus, gossip could have some positive functions. However, the negative form of gossip serves to denigrate, judge, and betray those about whom we are talking.
“A Little Tea and Gossip” by Robert Payton Reid, 1887.
When it comes to salacious stories and gossip, there is evidence that they have been with us for centuries. Professor Mitchell Stephens (2007) notes that the Acta Diurna, daily summaries of current events and human interest stories that were posted on public message boards in ancient Rome, were often sensational (and miscommunicated through word of mouth). Stephens also reports that books of the 16th and 17th century used salacious tales to teach moral lessons, as well as entertain. Between 1867 and 1876, the London magazine Belgravia, edited by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, who wrote sensational popular novels, provided shock and titillation on a wide range of subjects with an attention-grasping writing style (Gabriele, 2009). There were many other salacious novels and periodicals through the years.
Acta Diurna, the world’s first “newspaper?”
A related phenomenon is the desire humans have for “celebrity gossip,” which is partly rooted in ancient tales of gods and heroes and stories of royalty. In more recent times, our focus has been on actors, musicians, and athletes. Probably the first gossip tabloid in the United States was Broadway Brevities and Society Gossip, launched in New York in 1916. Initially, Brevities covered high society and New York’s theater world, but by the 1920s devolved into covering society scandals and gossip, eventually leading to the tabloid being shut down in 1925 when its editor and some associates were convicted of fraud and accused of blackmail. Other celebrity magazines of the early 20th century varied from fawning over stars to promoting beauty products to gossip.
Actress Seena Owen on the cover of the November 1922 issue of Broadway Brevities.Article from PhotoPlay magazine, 1934.
Why Do We Love Trash?
Why do we enjoy these forms of entertainment so much? There are a few reasons. To a degree, one reason is the previously mentioned mirror neuron system, which makes us curious about, empathetic to, and responsive to other people. But, there are also parts of our psyche, for better or worse, that compel us to compare ourselves to others, look for others’ flaws and weaknesses, and at times, want to see others struggle and even suffer. There is “good” and “bad” in all of us. We all have the capacity to build others up and tear them down–to delight in others’ successes but also to take perverse joy in their failures and foibles.
As a therapist, I believe it’s normal and healthy to recognize and accept all of our parts, even those we dislike or feel ashamed of. But, we always have the choice to feed and cultivate our better, more prosocial traits and put less time and energy into those aspects of ourselves that can be destructive. So, enjoy the trash TV and tabloid news if you must, but save some time, energy, and attention for those stories and activities that strengthen your healthy sense of self and your desire to connect with, celebrate, and support your fellow humans. Now more than ever, we need to build those aspects of human nature that bring us together.
Additional Reading
Gabriele, A. (2009). Reading Popular Culture in Victorian Print: Belgravia and Sensationalism, New York and London, Palgrave Macmillan.
After writing my last post on the history of Golden Gate Park’s Conservatory of Flowers, I wanted to learn more about the park as a whole. Also, I’m in love with OpenSF History, a website with an extensive archive of historic photos, and have been diving deep into the site to find historic park photos, so I want to share them. My favorite pictures are those showing everyday people enjoying the park.
I decided to focus more on images than on written history, but I have provided a bit. Much of the information I include comes from FoundSF (a digital archive) and from good old Wikipedia. You can also watch an interesting video about Golden Gate Park by Glenn Lym.
The 1800s
By the mid-1800s, San Francisco was evolving from a minor port town into a metropolis due to the Gold Rush and the discovery of the Comstock Lode, as well as the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869. City officials wanted San Francisco to have the attractions and amenities of East Coast and European cities, such as museums and parks. At that time in the United States, a large park within a city was a new idea but was gaining popularity as a social health movement, given the dirt and noise of late-19th Century cities. New York’s Central Park (1858), Philadelphia’s Fairmont Park (1865), and Brooklyn’s Prospect Park (1866) were Golden Gate’s predecessors and the only similar projects in the United States.
The two men who share the credit for the creation of Golden Gate Park, engineer William Hammond Hall and horticulturist John McLaren, envisioned a bucolic, wooded landscape in which San Franciscans could escape the hustle and bustle of daily life. In 1870, Hall won the bid to do a topographical survey of the land on which the park would be created and to create a plan for the park; work began in 1871.
The land on which the 1017-acre park now sits was previously an ocean of windblown sand dunes with little vegetation. Stage one was growing grass seeds obtained from France. Next came trees in order to stabilize the dunes that covered three-quarters of the park’s area. By 1875, about 60,000 trees, mostly eucalyptus, Monterey pine, and Monterey cypress had been planted. By 1879, that figure had more than doubled to 155,000 trees over 1000 acres. The lush meadows, forests, and gardens, as well as lakes, that eventually were created were made possible by irrigation and water pumped in via two windmills at the western end of Golden Gate, built in 1903.
Newly constructed Conservatory of Flowers, with Oddfellows Cemetery and Lone Mountain in background, 1879. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03211.jpg.
Although Hall and McLaren wanted the park to remain mostly “natural,” they were forced to compromise, with multiple buildings, formal gardens, raceways, and other attractions being added. The Conservatory of Flowers opened in 1879 and is the oldest building in Golden Gate Park. The Music Concourse, with its grand bandshell, was originally a part of a Worlds Fair, the California Midwinter International Exposition of 1894 (which encompassed 200 acres and included 120 structures; more than 2 million people visited). The Japanese Tea Garden is another remnant of the Midwinter Exposition. By the turn of the century, Golden Gate Park was “the free Disneyland of its time” and was a huge success, despite its relatively remote location. Children’s Playground, originally called the Sharon Quarters for Children, opened in 1888, and is thought to have been the nation’s first public playground. At various times, the playground included bears, elephants, a merry-go-round, goat-drawn carts, swings, and other pleasures for children and families.
Performing elephants in Childrens’ Playground, 1890. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.00037.jpg.Two formally dressed boys riding donkeys at Children’s Playground, 1890. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03768.jpg.A child in a goat cart at Children’s Playground, 1890. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03767.Illustration of a bird’s-eye view of Golden Gate Park, 1892. View from east end of park looking toward Pacific Ocean. Seven images at top depict sites of interest. Legend includes cable lines and railroads. Photo from FoundSF.View of Midwinter Exposition of 1894 from Strawberry Hill. Stow Lake, Stow Lake Drive, Lone Mountain, Masonic Cemetery, Oddfellows Cemetery, electric tower, and fairgrounds can be seen. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.02229.jpg.Children’s Playground on Kezar Drive, with carousel, Sharon Building, and gondola swings, 1894. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.01580.jpg.People at outdoor concert at the Music Concourse, 1895. I love all the hats and parasols. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.3678.Crowds and carriages at the Music Concourse, 1895. Quite a crowd! Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.3679.Arizona Garden, which used to be next to the Conservatory of Flowers, 1895. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp70.0227.Bicyclists, probably on Main Drive (now JFK Drive) near present Rainbow Falls, 1989. Bicycles became extremely popular in the late 1800s and early 1900s after the “safety bicycle” (replacing the high-wheel bike) was invented in 1895. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp71.1429.jpg.Child on pony (or donkey?) and child in goat cart, Children’s Playground, 1899. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.6521.
The the Early 1900s: Refugees, Races, and Museums
In the early 1900s, the park was busy with locals and visitors, who came to enjoy the outdoors and to visit the museums and other sights. Bicycling, baseball, boating, and picnics were all popular activities.
Dore Vase, sphinx, and bicycles in front of Memorial (de Young) Museum, 1900. Originally built as Fine Arts Building for 1893 Midwinter Fair. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp70.0247.jpg.Women on a rustic bridge by Chain of Lakes, 1900. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.2851.jpg.Families in the park, 1904. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp71.1439.Recreation Grounds near 7th Avenue. Child posing, with baseball game in background, 1905. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp15.659.jpg.Family feeding ducks, coots, and geese at Stow Lake, 1905. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp15.169.jpg.
After the tragic earthquake and fires of 1906, Golden Gate Park became a site of refuge for many who found themselves homeless and did not have relatives to take them in. Twenty-six official homeless encampments were constructed in Golden Gate Park and nearby. The refugee camps in the park were primarily used as an interim location while the Ingleside horse stables were renovated to house refugees. Over the months following the quake and fires, “earthquake shacks” to house people who had lost their homes popped up all throughout the undeveloped “Outside Lands” (as the sand dunes of western San Francisco were known at that time).
Earthquake refugees in Golden Gate Park mimicking a formal photographic pose. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp15.163.jpg.Earthquake refugees getting food, 1906. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp14.1149. Interior of supply depot shed in Golden Gate Park for refugees after the 1906 earthquake and fire. Kettles, pots and pans, buckets, and blankets can be seen on the shelves. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp102.0010.jpg.
San Francisco bounced back from tragedy. As the refugees found more permanent homes, Golden Gate Park soon went back to its original purposes–recreation and culture.
Harness race in Golden Gate Park Stadium, 1910 (now known as the Polo Fields). Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp33.03913.jpg.It doesn’t seem that the picnickers of 1910 were very concerned with litter. Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow). Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03863.People and puppy, 1914. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.4845.A family and friends on a motorbike in the park, about 1915. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.6027.jpg.A family picnic, 1915. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.6026.Children in a car at the May Day festival in Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1918. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp36.01854.
The De Young Museum’s original building was the Fine Arts Building from the Midwinter Exposition, of which de Young was the director. A new museum for de Young’s vast collections was completed in 1921. (The current extensive reconstruction of the museum began in 2001, and it reopened in 2005.)
The original museum of the California Academy of Sciences consisted of eleven buildings built between 1916 and 1976 in Golden Gate Park. The original structures were largely destroyed in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, with three of the original buildings conserved for the new construction, which opened in 2008.
Cameraman filming Bathing Beauties posing on a Franklin car (air cooled, so no radiator on the front) at Chain of Lakes, 1920. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp26.842.jpg.Girls’ picnic at Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1920. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp30.0254.Man and children on a circle swing, Children’s Playground, 1920. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp37.03672.Woman and four girls enjoying the park at Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1921. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.2825.Man with zebra-drawn cart in the park, 1925. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp14.4531.jpg.Family by the Children’s Playground bear pit, 1925. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp26.1346.After visiting the bear pit, this family enjoyed a picnic, 1925. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp26.1351.
Tough Times
During the Great Depression, the San Francisco Parks and Recreation Department ran out of public funds, so maintenance of Golden Gate Park was taken over by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a government program providing employment and community improvements during the economic woes of the 1930s. The WPA built roads in the park, as well as other park fixtures, including an archery field, parts of the arboretum, Anglers Lodge, and the adjoining fly casting pools.
May Day festival at Sharon Meadow (now called Robin Williams Meadow), 1933. Photo from OpenSFHistory / wnp27.3147.
Today
A lot has changed in Golden Gate Park since the early days. However, a lot is still pretty much the same: The western end of the park remains mostly natural, with trails, lakes, and woods. The windmills, Conservatory of Flowers, and Music Concourse are still there. People still row boats and fish on Stow Lake. Some roads and meadows have been renamed, and museums have been expanded and modernized, but the beauty and charm of Golden Gate Park lives on.
With 24 million visitors annually, Golden Gate is the third-most-visited city park in the United States after Central Park and the Lincoln Memorial. Golden Gate is 20 percent larger than Central Park, at more than 3 miles long and half a mile wide. I’m lucky to live within walking distance of this beautiful treasure.
I’m on a roll, making up for lost time with blog posts after not having written for several months! Today, I visited the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, a beautiful building full of tropical plants in Golden Gate Park. This Victorian-era attraction is the oldest public wood-and-glass conservatory in North America. After my visit, I did some deep digging online and found some interesting history, as well as a ton of photos. Note that most of the history provided here comes from the Conservatory’s website.
The San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, probably in 1878 or 1879. Lone Mountain is in the background at right. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website.
Early History A San Jose landowner, James Lick, had ordered conservatory materials to be shipped from New York in the 1870s to construct two private conservatories; however, Lick died before his projects could be built, and as his estate was being divided, 33 tons of the glass were donated to the Society of California Pioneers. In 1877, the Society of California Pioneers sold the conservatory pieces to 27 prominent San Franciscans and local philanthropists, including former Mayor William Alvord, Charles Crocker, Leland Stanford, and Claus Spreckels. It was the intention of these men to donate the conservatory materials to the City of San Francisco for public use in Golden Gate Park, which was being created.
A stipulation of the donation was that the conservatory be erected within 18 months, so it had to be built quickly. This happened, even though the steamer Georgia, which was carrying some of the construction materials, sunk. This may explain why the San Francisco Conservatory does not seem to have had a formal opening date, but rather a “soft opening” sometime in the middle of April 1879. In addition to the glass from Lick, the building materials included local old-growth redwood and other native trees.
The Conservatory in 1879. This may be during construction, as the building appears to be unpainted.
Conservatories were very popular in the Victorian era, and the San Francisco Conservatory was no exception, fast becoming the most visited location in Golden Gate Park. It was beloved by both locals and visitors. The original layout included a fountain in the entryway and another in the Palm Room, under the dome. The west wing displayed flowering and ornamental foliage in one gallery and hard-wooded plants, like azaleas, in the other. The east wing featured the Orchid House and an aquatic plant gallery with a large pond, which contained the Conservatory’s first blockbuster exhibit: the Victoria regia, a giant water lily, with leaves that grow several feet in diameter. This plant was the first of its kind to be grown in California and brought both recognition and crowds to Golden Gate Park. The Conservatory still boasts these gorgeous giant water lilies today.
The Pond Room in the late 1800s. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. The Pond Room today: in December 2019.The Conservatory in 1882. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.1934.
The Conservatory survived a fire originating in the furnace room in 1883 that destroyed the central dome and many plants. With no public funds available for repairs, private donor Charles Crocker provided $10,000. During the restoration, the dome was raised by 6 feet, and the eagle finial on top of the dome was replaced with the planet Saturn, probably a reference to the ancient Roman god of agriculture. In 1895, the Conservatory was wired for electricity for the first time.
The remnants of the dome following the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.1318.Reconstruction of the dome underway, mid-1880s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.4131.View from Arizona Garden down to the Conservatory of Flowers in the mid-1880s. Dome appears to be under reconstruction following the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.02290-L.Ceremony for laying the cornerstone of the Garfield Monument, August 24, 1883. View northwest across Main Drive (John F. Kennedy Drive today) toward the dais and crowd. Conservatory dome under reconstruction after the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03265.The Conservatory with the new dome, with visitors coming by horse and buggy. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but likely at the end of the 1880s.)Interior shot, 1886. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03465.Crowds of visitors in 1887. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp71.1427.The Conservatory’s flowerbeds decorated with “parterre” designs, 1890. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp70.0232.The Conservatory in 1900. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1900s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.04228.
The devastating San Francisco 1906 earthquake and subsequent fires did little damage to the Conservatory. The area leading up to the building, known as Conservatory Valley, became a temporary refugee camp for people who had been left homeless by the disasters.
Refugee camp outside the Conservatory after the 1906 earthquake and fire. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website.Refugee camp in Conservatory Valley, looking south to Mt. Sutro, Clary Collection. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp33.00936.Three men with basic necessities (including whiskey) in front of a tent in a refugee camp, probably in Conservatory Valley. Note Iron Bridge in background. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp15.162.Men view the earthquake refugee camp near the Conservatory. View from steps of Arizona Garden. Affiliated Colleges in distance on Mt. Sutro. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.501.Water fountain in front of the Conservatory, designed by Melvin Earl Cummings and formally accepted by the Park Commission in June 1904. Photo taken in 1909. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp33.03902.1910. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1910s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03870.1915. Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp14.4628.
Another fire originating in the furnace room damaged the Conservatory in 1918, resulting in the partial collapse of the glass roof and damage to the Potting Room. The Conservatory was again able to bounce back from adversity. However, by the 1930s, budget cuts, a result of the Great Depression, meant that park services and staff were reduced, and the Conservatory suffered from neglect. Necessary repairs were not made, and on several occasions the Conservatory was threatened with closure. Accounts vary, but some say that the building was closed for part of the ’30s and ’40s for structural repairs, reopening in the mid-’40s.
The Conservatory lawn in the 1920s. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Snazzy visitors in their car. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but probably the 1920s.) Visitors. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but appears to be the 1920s.) 1920s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp15.675.The Conservatory faced tough times in the 1930s. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1930s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp27.6220.Parterre in front of the Conservatory in honor of San Francisco welcoming the United Nations, 1945. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5246.Visitors in 1945 with United Nations parterre. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp28.1489.Aerial view, April 10, 1947. Photo: Barney Peterson / The Chronicle 1947.Woman in 1950 posing next to floral tapestry reading “Public Parks Junior Tennis Championship” in front of the Conservatory. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp28.3063.Interior shot, 1957. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.1373.1963. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5886.Renovation underway at the Conservatory entrance, 1966. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5712.1973. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp12.00721.The interior of the Conservatory of Flowers, shown on its 100th anniversary on May 19, 1978, looks much the same as it did in 1878. Photo: Clem Albers / The Chronicle 1978.Parterre of 49er helmet reading “Super,” to commemorate the 49ers’ first Superbowl victory, over the Bengals in 1982. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp119.00084.
More Recent History The most devastating damage in the Conservatory’s history was caused by a violent wind storm in 1995 that shattered 40 percent of the building’s glass and destroyed many rare plants. With millions needed for repairs, the building was closed, with many fearing it would never reopen.
With fundraising efforts, including those by First Lady Hillary Clinton, the Conservatory was able to be repaired. Restoration began in 2000 and took 8 years. One major challenge of the repairs was that the Conservatory was built according to a detailed blueprint, which apparently was destroyed in the great fire that occurred after the 1906 quake. This required the architects involved with the project to take the building apart so they could see how it was built in order to restore it. The work also included lead abatement and seismic strengthening. The total cost of the redo: $25 million. A grand public reopening was held in 2003.
Damaged facade in 1995. Photo from https://www.wmf.org/project/golden-gate-park-conservatory-flowers.Man seated in front of Conservatory of Flowers in the 1990s, with sign that reads “Danger Keep Out.” Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp07.00151.Grand reopening gala, 2003. Photo by Katy Raddatz/Chronicle.
Since 2003, millions of visitors have come to the Conservatory of Flowers, and it has been the site of weddings and special events. The Conservatory holds talks by horticultural authors and hosts horticultural societies and botany students. The Conservatory of Flowers has garnered numerous local, state, and national awards, and was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1971. It is a City and County of San Francisco Landmark and a Historic Civil Engineering Landmark.
Personal History I’ve only been to the Conservatory a few times but definitely plan to return again now that I am living in San Francisco. On today’s visit, I saw many lovely orchids, a 100-year-old giant Imperial Philodendron named Phil, beautiful stained glass, koi, and those giant lily pads. During what I believe was my first visit, in 2006, when I was in graduate school and my parents were in town to see me, the Conservatory had a wonderful exhibit on butterflies and bats. (However, I may have visited during my first trip to San Francisco, which was in 1991. It’s hard to remember now!) What a lovely and special place, with so much history!
Butterfly exhibit at the Conservatory, 2006.My dad impersonating a bat at the Bats and Butterflies exhibit at the Conservatory, 2006.My dad admiring the lily pad sculpture in the Pond Room at the Conservatory, 2006.The Conservatory today: December 2019. The sky briefly clears after rainstorms.Koi pond and statue today: December 2019.The Conservatory today: December 2019. Winter “Night Bloom” light show. From FogCitySecrets.com.
I admit that I am fascinated by serial killers. I seek out TV shows, movies, documentaries, and sometimes books about them. I watch with a mix of disgust, fear, and interest. As a psychologist, I want to understand the mind of the psychopath. As someone who is empathic and spends a lot of time helping others, it’s very hard to wrap my mind around what it must be like to be a cold-blooded killer.
I’m not alone in my interest in serial killers. Psychopaths such as John Wayne Gacy, the Zodiac Killer, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and the Boston Strangler have garnered tons of of public attention.
Serial killer Ed Kemper, 1973. Photo from Santa Cruz County Sheriff’s Office.
Diagnosis According to the diagnostic “bible” of mental health professionals, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2013), the category that fits most serial killers, those who killed multiple people on separate occasions for psychological and/or sexual reasons, is Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD). Colloquially, people use psychopath or sociopath more often than APD—technically, they mean the same thing, although in common usage, psychopath usually refers to a more violent form of APD than does sociopath.
The defining characteristics of APD boil down to a long-term pattern of disregard for, or violation of, others’ rights and feelings. While we all probably know someone like this, thankfully most of us don’t know a serial killer. Someone is said to have APD if they have three or more of the following traits that are not better explained by another mental illness (such as bipolar disorder): failure to respect and/or adhere to laws and norms; repeated lying and deceit for personal gain or pleasure; impulsivity and failure to plan ahead; reckless disregard for the safety of self and others; a pattern of irresponsibility with regard to work, finances, and other important areas; and a lack of remorse after having hurt or taken advantage of others. This diagnosis is only used in adults 18 or older—children with such traits are diagnosed with Conduct Disorder (and most adults with APD had Conduct Disorder when they were young).
Serial killers are obviously at the extreme end of the spectrum of APD: On the mild end, you might see someone who cheats on their taxes and cyber-bullies. Serial killers tend to have shown sadistic traits and wet the bed as youngsters and often are fascinated by fire-setting. Contrary to popular belief, most are not “evil geniuses” but have low to average IQ. Most are male (Hickey, 2010; Vronsky, 2007).
How Did They Become Killers? There is no one clear reason why someone becomes a serial killer. Probably, a lot of reasons add up to a seriously disturbed personality. These include “nature” (genes, high testosterone levels, low serotonin levels, head injury, developmental brain anomalies) and “nurture” (antisocial parents, family problems, severe abuse, bullying, societal factors). The fact that there is not a definitive “recipe” for homicidal behavior may be one of the most disturbing aspects to think about: If there is no one obvious reason people become serial killers, how can we prevent them from developing?
A Little History There have likely been serial killers throughout history. Some believe that werewolf and vampire legends were inspired by serial killers (Schlesinger, 2000). One of the most famous historical murderers, often called “the first modern serial killer,” was Jack the Ripper. He killed at least five women in London in the late 1800s and was never caught. The story of these killings spawned a media frenzy, countless movies and books, and one of the earliest “profiles” of a killer (Canter, 1994).
Picture from The Illustrated Police News, October 6, 1888.
In the United States, there have been approximately 2625 documented serial killers. Disturbingly, 76% of all known serial killers in the 20th century were from the U.S. What does that say about our country? I guess it should not be that surprising, given our overall violence compared with many other nations: For example, in looking at homicides in cities around the world, rates in U.S. cities are much, much higher than those in Europe and Asia (Violent Crime).
Why Do We Like Killers? OK, perhaps like is too strong a word. But, maybe we are fascinated by serial killers because they are different from the norm: We are curious about what is unusual. And, we may consciously or unconsciously admire those who don’t care about rules, follow their darkest impulses, and act as they please with no conscience. Glorification of the “outlaw” fits with the history of the United States, built on rebellion, violence, and independence (Edlund, 2017). Americans also have a very complicated psychological relationship with power, dominance, sexuality, and control, all elements of many serial killings.
Some of the characteristics that allow some serial killers to succeed with their crimes may be part of their allure: The ability to charm and manipulate is often in their makeup. Take Ted Bundy, for example. There is something both fascinating and horrifying about the idea that that charming but controlling guy you talked to at a bar or work with could secretly be hiding bodies in his basement. It also makes one think twice about online dating. Other serial killers are not particularly charming but can fly under the radar, living ordinary lives, with others not realizing who they are and what they do.
We may be drawn to stories about serial killers for the same reasons why some people love horror movies. One is that reading or watching tales of serial killers is a safer way to face our fears of violence and death and even experience some excitement and arousal around killing. Murderers’ lives may also hold a dark appeal because it seems taboo to wonder about them. Many people have a desire to seek out what is forbidden or at least have a curiosity about what is outside the realm of everyday life.
Serial Killer Favorites I want to share some of my favorite depictions of serial killers, in case you, like me, have a curiosity about them. My favorite by far has been The Fall,a dark and disturbing three-season Netflix series (2013–2016) set in the U.K. and starring Gillian Anderson and Jamie Dornan. Anderson does a stellar job as the troubled detective tasked with finding serial killer Dornan. The acting and story are what kept me riveted, but I have to admit that the fact that the killer was a mental health counselor added to the draw.
The Silence of the Lambs (1991) is a classic serial killer movie. Anthony Hopkins as the homicidal and cannibalistic Dr. Lecter epitomized the Hollywood image of a psychopath, and Jodie Foster was a compelling and vulnerable hero. The only thing I didn’t like was the movie’s implication that killer Buffalo Bill’s penchant for cross-dressing had anything to do with his murderous instincts. A little-known fact is that one of the inspirations for Buffalo Bill was Philadelphia psychopath Gary Heidnik (who was not a cross-dresser or transgender, by the way). Another inspo was Ed Gein, who was believed to have been trying to make a “woman suit” out of the skin of victims so he could pretend to be his dead mother. (Gein was also an inspiration for Norman Bates in Psycho.)
Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) is certainly another classic of the genre, unfortunately also featuring a cross-dressing killer. Of course, Norman Bates was not necessarily dressing in women’s clothing for sexual or identity reasons but because he was embodying his (deceased) abusive mother. Sorry for the spoiler if you never saw the movie, but come on—if you have any interest in serial killers, you must have watched it!
I really enjoyed the cultural satire of American Psycho (2000), starring Christian Bale. I mean, it’s quite a feat if you can make serial killing humorous. And that business card scene is such a biting send-up of 1980s business culture.
You can bet he’s playing Huey Lewis and the News.
Cormac McCarthy’s novel No Country for Old Men (2005) and the Coen brothers’ 2007 movie adaptation starring Tommy Lee Jones and Javier Bardem are terrifying. McCathy’s novel does a better job of fleshing out the psychological torment of good guy Bell, while the film version better depicts the horror that is Bardem’s Chigurh.
A few runners-up for me have been the Netflix series Mindhunter (which follows FBI agent Ford Holden through his groundbreaking research in the 1970s), the 2007 film Zodiac (about the San Francisco killer), and the Netflix series Manhunt, which humanizes the infamous Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski (and which I mentioned in an earlier post). There are lots more, and some I have not even checked out yet.
For some reason, I am able to “shut it off” pretty easily after reading or watching serial killer tales. However, if you’re more likely to lie awake and afraid afterwards, do yourself a favor and save these stories for daytime consumption!
References American Psychiatric Association (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition. Arlington, VA: American Psychiatric Association.
Canter, David (1994). Criminal Shadows: Inside the Mind of the Serial Killer. HarperCollins.
Well, dear reader(s), it’s been another minute since I posted. I’ve thought about writing many times, but life has gotten in the way. OK, sometimes laziness has gotten in the way, but life, too!
Moving to the Outer Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco a few months ago made me curious about the area’s history and also got me to thinking about how the characteristics of different neighborhoods can impact our thoughts and emotions. I’ve written before about the psychology of color. Like color, scale and design can shape the way people interact with neighborhoods. As I’ve walked around my new environs, I’ve thought about how the building scale, uniformity, design, and colors make me feel.
Aerial shot of the Outer Sunset, looking north.
History To call the Outer Sunset a “working-class” neighborhood today is a bit of a misnomer: The average house here now goes for about a million dollars. But when they were built, they were meant to allow families with modest means a way to have their own homes. Formerly called “Outside Lands,” comprising acres of sand dunes and scrub, the area started to be developed in the late 1800s when tourist attractions were added to Ocean Beach and Golden Gate Park was created. Initially, it was mostly settled by white Americans, primarily Irish and Italian. Mass home building didn’t take off until after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Large tracts of nearly identical houses were built from the 1920s to the 1960s. There are several commercial strips scattered throughout the Sunset.
Starting in the ’60s, the neighborhood saw a steady influx of Asian (mostly Chinese) immigrants following the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which lifted racial quotas and allowed more non-Europeans to immigrate to the United States. Today, the Outer Sunset is primarily Asian and Asian-American, with Chinese being the dominant culture; the second-largest ethnic group here is European-American.
One of the commercial streets of the Sunset is Irving Street. This shot is on Irving near 24th Avenue, technically in Central (not Outer) Sunset. Photo from sanfranciscodays.com.
Design and Scale The Outer Sunset has a very distinct look and a fairly uniform design. Friends who are not that familiar with the area but have been to San Francisco often look blank when I try to explain where I live, but when I describe the way Outer Sunset looks, their eyes light up with recognition: “Oh, I drove through that neighborhood on my way up the coast!” “Oh, yeah, all those pastel houses!” “I think I was there on my way to Golden Gate Park!”
In some ways, Outer Sunset reminds me of working class neighborhoods in cities back East, where I’m from. Philadelphia, where I spent almost 20 years, has many districts that were built for working people throughout the centuries, and all share a certain style and economy of materials: small homes, often connected in rows; modest design; similarity to the neighbors’ homes (as many were built en masse); generally small (or absent) front yards; human scale.
Unlike the working-class neighborhoods of other cities, Outer Sunset is made up of blocks and blocks of (mostly) pastel stucco houses. The majority of the homes are two-story row houses with a garage on the ground floor and living quarters above. Because property is so ungodly expensive in San Francisco, many homeowners have added an in-law apartment on the ground floor, behind the garage. There are a few three-story homes here and there, and there are some blocks on which the houses have a touch more individual design than on others. Contemporary homeowners seem to be choosing richer paint colors and grays over pastels.
A typical block of homes in Outer Sunset, probably built in the 1940s or ’50s.
Psychology of Design In some ways, the neighborhood’s sameness provides comfort and familiarity. You instantly know it’s a quiet, residential neighborhood when you see all those little pink houses, one-car garages, and quaint touches that help each often-bland facade stand out just a little. There is a sense of peace and orderliness.
Houses along Great Highway, the western-most street in the Outer Sunset.
While you might think that the human-scale architecture, soothing color palate, and walkable streets would promote a sense of community, other design elements fight against it. One is that garages take up most of the first floor, and entrances are hidden by locked metal gates; these features take away from homes having a warm or accessible feel. Also, it’s rare for anyone to be sitting or hanging out in front of their house—most homes lack porches, stoops, and front patios that would allow residents to spend time out front where they could chat with neighbors and passers-by. Houses feel private and hidden rather than open and inviting.
Sunset over the Outer Sunset, with the Pacific in the distance.
One Canadian researcher, Colin Ellard, has found that people are strongly affected by building facades (Bond, 2017). Complex and interesting facades affect people positively, whereas boring and impersonal building fronts can have a negative impact. The Sunset contains a mix of “interesting” versus bland facades, leading pedestrians to feel varying degrees of discomfort versus engagement. Some Outer Sunset streets are much more uniform and uninteresting than others.
According to Danish urbanist Jan Gehl, a well-designed city street should allow the average pedestrian to see an interesting new sight about once every five seconds (Ellard, 2015; Weintraub, 2015). In some ways, the Sunset’s lack of dramatic architectural variety may be offset by the small and interesting details that are visible to those on foot: plantings, murals, interesting paint colors, attractive metalwork, sculptures, benches, and decorative stones. Still, many have criticized the Outer Sunset as being boring and monotonous.
Interesting murals on a house and garage door.
Another much-studied element of the psychology of urban neighborhoods is green space: Access to greenery amidst city buildings is linked to better psychological health. The Sunset lacks a lot of green spaces—some blocks are virtually all concrete—although some streets do boast small trees and strips of yard containing anything from rocks to artificial turf to flowers to succulents. As with other psychological elements of design, the Sunset provides some positives and negatives here.
Pretty planters.Funky yard.
Final Thoughts I’m slowly feeling more at home in my new neighborhood. I can’t say that I have strong positive or negative feelings about the area—for me, it’s a mix. I can say that I wish there were more people out and about when I am walking around, and I also would be happier if the houses had more inviting fronts, with porches and yards. But that said, I am enjoying the Outer Sunset and continue to discover the small details that break up the overarching uniformity. I love seeing the ocean when I’m waiting at the bus stop. I love being able to walk to Golden Gate Park. I love the beachy feel on some of the streets and the interesting mix of cultures. On the surface, it may all look the same, but if you take a closer look, there is a lot to see.
I have been studying bellydance since 2013 and performing since 2015. My primary style of dance is American Tribal Style® (ATS®) Bellydance,* a modern fusion format that was created by Carolena Nericcio in San Francisco in the 1980s.
A Little ATS History
This style borrows from and was heavily influenced by the tribal bellydance language of Jamila Salimpour, published in her manual, TheDanse Orientale (1978). Salimpour was a dancer who studied Egyptian dance and set out to combine different Middle Eastern and Arabic dance forms. She created a new vocabulary for bellydance, based on frequently repeated movements that she saw in what were normally considered improvised dances. She moved to San Francisco in 1958 and began teaching and eventually performing with her company Bal Anat. (Read more about the Salimpour School here.)
My dance troupe, Shekinah Tribal Bellydance, founded in Santa Cruz, California, in 2014 by Inna Dagman and currently directed by Maya Goytia, with some performance planning assistance by me.
ATS also descended from the artistic and freeform style of Jamila Salimpour’s student Masha Archer, who then taught Nericcio. In addition to Middle Eastern and Arabic influences, ATS also incorporates elements of flamenco, Eastern European folk dance, and Indian Odissi dance. The original ATS dance troupe and school founded by Nericcio is FatChance BellyDance, based in San Francisco.
The original FatChance BellyDance performance costume included jewelry from Afghanistan, India, North Africa, and the Middle East; a decorated turban; an Indian-style choli top; a coin bra; a full skirt; a hip scarf; pantaloons; and an elaborate belt. Some dancers perform barefoot, and others wear ballet flats or other dance shoes. Most of these elements are still a part of the contemporary ATS costume, although many troupes substitute a “hair garden” of silk flowers and sometimes a headband for the turban.
A clip from The Art of Belly Dance, a DVD and book by Carolena Nericcio. This clip is likely from the late 1990s or early 2000s and shows Nericcio and two other FatChance dancers, Kathy and Rena.
A FatChance performance from 1997, along with an interview with Carolena Nericcio, who talks about the history of ATS and bellydance in general. Although Carolena uses the term Gypsy, I prefer to use Romani, as some people of Romani descent and others may find the term Gypsy to be offensive.
What Makes ATS Different
One of the things about ATS that is unique compared with most other contemporary bellydance styles is that it is meant to be danced in groups improvisationally. Dancers learn a language of moves, cues, and formations, which they can then use in the moment with others dancers schooled in this format. The typical formations include two, three, or four “featured” dancers; if there are more than this number of dancers on stage, the others form a “chorus,” or semicircle in the back of the stage to provide a dancing backdrop and cheering section to the featured performers.
Although I also enjoy Egyptian, cabaret, Suhaila-style, and Jamila-style forms of bellydance, among others, ATS really captured my heart. One reason is that as a performer who is a little shy, I like the group format–many other bellydancers perform solo, which is not my preferred way of performing. Also, I love the beauty and history of the ATS costuming. Although the dance style is modern, many of the fabrics and jewelry pieces we use are vintage, and I really enjoy learning about the history of these costume elements.
Lessons Learned
I also love ATS because of some of the life lessons being immersed in this world has taught me. Some of the most important things I have learned are
It’s “We,” Not “Me.” I like the emphasis on “dance sisterhood” (and “brotherhood”–there is a small but growing number of male-identified ATS dancers) and making the group look good. One of the main lessons of ATS is to think about how what you are doing reflects on the others in your formation and troupe. For example, when you are leading the group, you are conscious of giving clear signals, using moves and cues that are familiar to the other dancers. Also, when you are following a leader, you attempt to match the leader’s style and speed, even if you would prefer to do something slower or faster–it’s about the coordination and “flock of birds” look of your group rather than making yourself stand out.
Support Your Fellow Dancers. Building off of the first lesson, I feel that ATS has helped me to be more conscious of working together with my group and everyone supporting each other, both as dancers and as people. One way that this manifests is regarding body image. ATS welcomes people of all sizes and shapes, as well as ages and ethnicities. I love how ATS honors all sorts of bodies and doesn’t prioritize a certain body type or look. I perceive many other forms of dance to favor younger, thinner dancers, although of course this is not always the case. Although more men are participating in ATS than in the past, it’s still primarily a culture of female-identified people, and it’s refreshing to be involved in a culture that celebrates women as they are rather than creating shame and competition around fitting a cultural beauty ideal. One thing I will say is that in my experience, there are few African Americans in the ATS world; I’d like to see this change. It was exciting and inspiring to see the troupe Tribal Unicorn Collective, a trio of African American dancers, perform at ATS Reunion 2019 (see video below), not just because they were awesome, but also because it was nice to see some black women performing.
Do Your Best, but Perfection Is Not Always Possible. Of course, as performers, we do our best to condition and strengthen our bodies so we can do the moves, practice so we know what we are doing, and strive to look polished during a show. However, we also know that in dance (especially improvisation), mistakes happen. We learn to keep smiling and keep on dancing when something doesn’t go as planned. In fact, sometimes the audience wouldn’t even realize that we’ve screwed up–unless we make a face, laugh, look embarrassed, etc.
Practice, Practice, Practice. You can’t improve if you don’t work at it! Putting the time and effort in will result in growth. This also goes along with supporting your dance sisters and brothers–in order to make the group look good, each dancer must do their part to be prepared and give it their all. I also find that lots of practice and focusing on my own learning and improvement is a good way to overcome the inevitable insecurities and jealousies that may pop up.
It’s Never Too Late to Try Something New. I didn’t start taking regular bellydance classes until I was in my mid-40s in 2013, and I didn’t start learning ATS until 2014. Before I decided to take ATS classes, I had seen some ATS performances and was mesmerized. However, my initial reaction was, “Wow, they are so impressive and beautiful–I wish I had studied this form of dance when I was young.” Then, I realized I could still do it (and did)!
Valuable lessons in dance but also in other aspects of life!
The amazing Tribal Unicorn Collective perform at ATS Reunion 2019 in Scottsdale, Arizona.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDp7CRtJ618
A more recent FatChance BellyDance performance from the Rakkasah West festival in Concord, California, in 2018.
ATS is popular all over the world. Here is Sirin Tribe of Saint Petersburg, Russia, performing in 2016.
Dayanisima troupe of North Carolina performs at ATS Reunion in Scottsdale, Arizona, January 2019.
Although ATS is typically performed in groups, it can be danced as a solo. One of the best performers is Kae Montgomery, shown here at Show de Gala Be Tribal Bellydance Tagest 2017 in Ciudad de México.
* Since this post was written, FatChance decided to rename the style of dance from American Tribal Style Bellydance to FatChance Style Bellydance. The primary reason for this change is to get away from the use of the word tribal, which has negative connotations in some contexts.
After posting earlier today about street art and graffiti, I went down a rabbit hole of looking through some of my photographs. I have always loved documenting murals, street art, and graffiti. Living in Philadelphia from 1986 to 2005 (and visiting frequently since I moved away), I got a lot of chances to photograph public art. Philly has a wonderful organization called Mural Arts Philadelphia, which was founded in 1984 as part of the Philadelphia Anti-Graffiti Network. Artist Jane Golden set out to find local graffiti artists and redirect their talents from underground, illegal graffiti to sanctioned public murals. Philadelphia Mural Arts Advocates became a private nonprofit organization in 1997. The program is currently one of the largest employers of artists in Philadelphia, hiring more than 300 artists each year, including more than 100 people prosecuted for illegal graffiti. The program has created close to 4000 murals since 1984.
Here are some of my photos of murals and street art in Philly, in my current hometown of Santa Cruz, CA, and elsewhere, from 2002 to 2017.
Isaiah Zagar Studio Door, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Brian Barneclo mural, Santa Cruz, CA. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Fishtown mural, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2016.
New Kensington mural, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2016.
Fishtown mural, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2016.
New Kensington mural, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2016.
New Kensington mural, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2016.
New Kensington mural, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2016.
Waikiki mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2017.
Hilo mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2017.
Santa Cruz mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2014.
Haleiwa mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2017.
Santa Cruz mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2014.
Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
West Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
West Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
West Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
West Oakland mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2009.
Santa Cruz mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2014.
Eureka mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2011.
Eureka, CA, mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2011.
Philadelphia mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Philadelphia mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Philadelphia street art. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Philadelphia mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Isaiah Zagar studio, Philadelphia. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2002.
Philadelphia mural. Photo by Blair J. Davis, 2017.
Art and signs in Samara, Costa Rica. Photograph by Blair J. Davis, 2011.
