Art Beset by Man, Nature : Rigors of Life on Inglewood Streets Imperil Depression-Era Mosaic

At Centinela Park in Inglewood, history is crumbling.

Last Wednesday, four boys in a stolen car--witnesses said they were as young as 9 or 10--sped through the park and crashed into a historic wall mosaic by Helen Lundeberg, who is considered one of California’s foremost artists. They abandoned the car and fled.

The crash dramatizes the plight of the wall and recent talk about restoring and protecting the 240-foot mosaic that depicts the history of transportation in Inglewood. It left another section damaged in the 48-year-old artwork that has withstood a sustained assault by man and nature, including previous car crashes, graffiti and corrosive sap from overhanging trees.

One of three such artworks in the country, the 8-foot-high mosaic was commissioned by the Depression-era Works Progress Administration. Lundeberg conceived and drew the sketches for the mural, which was done in petrachrome, a process in which colored bits of stone are cast in a concrete mold.

Residents and politicians have been concerned about the wall’s deterioration since last year, when Judith Baca of the Venice-based Social and Public Arts Resource Center recommended that the Parks and Recreation Commission repair the mosaic and hire a consultant to study the possibility of relocating it.

Hahn Seeking $250,000

Councilman Anthony Scardenzan, whose district encompasses Centinela Park, met recently with County Supervisor Kenneth Hahn. He reported last week that Hahn is trying to obtain $250,000 to pay for restoration and relocation of the mosaic.

Scardenzan, Councilwoman Ann Wilk and a residents group called Friends of Centinela Park want Lundeberg and a technical consultant to advise them on refurbishing the mural and moving it to a safer, more accessible site. Possibilities are Inglewood Park Cemetery and the south lawn of the city’s Civic Center on Manchester Boulevard.

City Parks and Recreation Commissioner Les Curtis said in an interview last week that the city cannot afford to move the wall without outside funding. But Curtis, who grew up in Inglewood and remembers seeing WPA workers build the wall, said his staff plans to plant flowers in front of the wall, enclose it in a chain-link fence and install night lighting. That plan, which Curtis estimated would cost $25,000, will be implemented in July if new funding is not obtained, he said.

The fence would keep out vandals and include poles set in concrete to stop runaway cars, Curtis said. But he added: “We can’t spend $25,000 (on protecting the wall) until we know the wall’s going to stay where it is.”

Lundeberg, who exudes the dignity and resilience that have extended her career over six decades, has said in the past that she prefers to paint rather than to talk to interviewers.

But last week she made it clear that she would be “glad to talk to anyone” about preserving the mosaic.

Pointing out that some WPA-commissioned murals by her and other artists have been destroyed or allowed to decay over the years, she said: “This is ancient history. I’m glad that people in Inglewood are concerned.”

Lundeberg has lived and worked in her Westside storefront studio since 1952. The high-ceiling room is filled with paintings and books. It has an air of solitary dedication. As Lundeberg talked, a cat wandered among chair legs seeking attention from her visitors.

With her husband and teacher Lorser Feitelson, who died in 1978, Lundeberg led a movement in the 1930s known as Post-Surrealism. It was a reaction to European surrealist art, combining stylistic aspects of surrealism with the themes and precision of more classic work.

Starving More Than Usual

During the Depression, the private art market shriveled. Even more than usual, artists were starving. The Federal Artists Project was one of several programs that put them to work creating art for public consumption in public places.

According to Andrew Conner, collections director of the National Museum of American Art in Washington, the assigned subject matter often dealt with historical and patriotic themes.

“Many artists had to change their style and work in a much more realistic, literal way,” said Conner, whose museum is exhibiting work by WPA artists.

The Inglewood mural depicts the development of transportation from American Indian oxcarts to streetcars and airplanes. It is a considerable departure from Lundeberg’s paintings, which tend toward delicate and enigmatic scenes done in muted colors.

“It was just completely different from my personal work,” Lundeberg said. “But I could do that during weekends and evening hours. . . . It was a happy atmosphere. People were glad to be working. This was a job and I wanted to do it well and I enjoyed doing it.”

Already having completed murals at Fullerton City Hall and Venice High School, Lundeberg in the late 1930s met with Inglewood Mayor Raymond Darby and other officials to get her assignment.

“I had an entire wall to fill,” Lundeberg said. “It was the biggest petrachrome I knew of. I had to research the costumes of the period and whatever other props I wanted to use.”

After Lundeberg painted prototypes, craftsmen placed the drawings on Masonite panels and traced them in preparation for pouring colored stone aggregate into a concrete mold. When the petrachrome process was complete, workmen then assembled 60 separate panels and attached them to the wall.

“The colors had to be pigments that would stand up to corrosive agents in cement,” Lundeberg said.

Despite its robust subject matter, the finished product evokes the grace and serenity of Lundeberg’s other work. The colors are subtle. The fluid figures of travelers and their vehicles march through history along the curving wall. There are carefully detailed touches that Lundeberg still relishes: An American Indian girl on a wagon peeks out from under a blanket. Animal-drawn carts give way to streetcars, which give way to streamlined trains. People wave at a departing propeller airplane.

Unfortunately, the current mural looks forlorn. There are at least three sections where panels have been shattered; declarations such as “Crip Gang” and “Duce” have been smeared across the concrete, and attempts by park personnel to temporarily cover damage with plywood have left nail holes.

“It’s taken the citizens to bring these things to the staff’s attention,” said Virginia Robinson of the Friends of Centinela Park, who is a longtime proponent of hiring an expert to advise the city on the wall. “It’s taken two winters to get this going.”

Landmark Status

She said the county should consider granting the mosaic landmark status.

Lundeberg has not seen the mosaic since part of a video about her life was filmed at the park several years ago.

“I couldn’t figure out whether the wall had faded or whether it needed to be polished,” she recalled. “I doubt it’s been polished since it was dedicated.”

As to the proposal to move the mosaic, Lundeberg recommended caution, saying she thinks it might be preferable to protect the wall where it is.

“I’d hate to have the job of moving it,” she said. “I don’t know much about how it’s attached to the wall. I know those slabs are not terribly thick. . . . There’s not really anyone around anymore” who has worked with petrachrome.

Councilwoman Wilk said she is disheartened that the city, which prides itself on its upkeep and on promoting a positive spirit, has let the wall deteriorate.

“Here,” she said, holding up a piece of color-speckled concrete that was dislodged by last week’s accident. “Have a piece of crumbling Inglewood history.”