Search for a Lost Artist

Where have you gone, Juan Dzyl?

Two years ago, the Vermont Square Neighborhood Assn. in South-Central Los Angeles sponsored a contest for best artist.

You remember that contest, don’t you, Juan? The association wanted to put a new face on the area with the help of the Los Angeles Neighborhood Initiative, a federal program.

The art contest winner’s work was to have been displayed on banners hanging from dozens of street lights. And it was for that contest, Juan, that you, a first-grader at Normandie Avenue Elementary School, painted your apple tree.

But not just any apple tree.

No, this one was in two shades of green, a play of shadow and light set against the bluest of skies.

You submitted your picture--no, let’s call it what it is, a watercolor--with probably little hope of winning.

“We were drowning in pictures,” recalled neighborhood committee Chairwoman Helen Johnson, 66. “Pictures were falling off the shelves, cascading over our tables.”

So many entries flooded in that nothing less than the nearby Bank of America’s conference room could accommodate all of them--plus the 15-judge evaluation committee.

Your apple tree caught the eye of Geraldine Frazier. She thought your picture was “ever so elegant. It looked like he put everything that was in him into it.”

Frazier, 72, admits that she had never judged an art contest. But, she said, “I wasn’t really nervous about that. Not with this talent. This was the picture I wanted.”

Johnson was similarly smitten.

“The sun plays against the tree, with even the side facing away from the sun alive. I loved that hope,” she said.

So the two women formed an alliance and held out amid a raucous debate.

*

“It got a little heated in there, as if we were picking a Picasso or a Rembrandt. We were serious about this thing,” Johnson said, laughing.

Finally, with the bank officials about to lock the doors, the judges--all 15 of them--agreed on your picture, Juan. And they booked the Boys and Girls Explorers Club--the biggest and best in the area--to unveil your picture and present you a plaque.

But you didn’t show up; your family moved.

Where to, nobody knows. They knew your family had come here from Mexico; some speculated that your parents had decided to return. There were no clues on your watercolor, only your name scrawled on the back of it.

“I felt racked with guilt,” Johnson said. “We weren’t sure if we should use his picture or go with another one.”

*

But, Juan, your picture was so much better than anyone else’s! And maybe you would come back, and then the judges could give you your plaque.

So, up the banners went--and with them your picture.

Vermont Square is a beautiful place now, with newly planted trees lining the boulevards, seemingly trying to compete against the beauty of your vision.

Things are changing, though. After almost two years, the banners are starting to fray. The neighborhood association is sponsoring a new contest, with new banners on order. In a couple of months, your apple tree will be coming down.

So, here’s the deal, Juan: If somehow this article should find you, call the newspaper at (800) LA TIMES. Ask for the city desk, and tell us where we can find you.

Helen Johnson has your plaque, as well as the original artwork. She will make sure you get both.

“If I live long enough,” said Geraldine Frazier, “I expect one day to see his work hanging in the museum.

“But remember--we discovered him first.”