I’d like to think that I’m a sophisticated kind of person, but there are things that just get me where I live and there’s not a thing sophisticated about them. I can do the puppy thing and the baby thing; but the best (or worst) of things-that-makes-me-whimper are WPA murals.

I first discovered one in the Hollywood High School library that had once been the auditorium. It had a WPA mural that depicted the history of the theatre. It was very fanciful in its chronicle from Greek amphitheatres to motion picture studios.

Later, I found another WPA mural in the dining room of the Natural History Museum in downtown Los Angeles, California. This particular mural portrayed the history of eating from cave dwellers to modern days. My favourite character in that mural was King Henry VIII. He had a big bone in his hand and was gnawing away at it. No flatware for those Tudors. When last in Los Angeles I was disappointed to find that some troglodyte(s) had completely covered the mural.

One of my favourite murals though is the one in the old terminal annex Post Office in Los Angeles. This mural portrayed the history of California. It wound around the upper wall of the post office to tell its story. The Indians gave way to conquistadors who gave way to Californios. It was a most compelling thing. Every time I went to the terminal annex, I would end up just looking at that mural. One day I was telling a friend about my fascination with this particular mural and he asked, “Did you ever notice something odd about it?” I said no. He said that the next time I went there, I should look at it again and then he would tell me.

That got me. I immediately set off to look at the mural. I studied it and studied it. Then, it hit me. Everyone looked alike. All of the Indians, conquistadors, and Californios had the same face. Male or female, they all looked alike. I called my friend, “Okay, what’s the deal?” “The face is the man who was the supervisor on the project. They’re all him!” He was obviously Latino. He had a dour countenance. He didn’t work as well as a woman. Still love that mural.

The picture here is from a mural at Coit Tower in San Francisco. What I love about it is its subversiveness. Check out that guy in the battered fedora. He seems to be looking at the latest issue of the Daily Worker, or is he? Of course all of the papers there are Communist rags. Look at the look in his eye. Oooh, that eyebrow is telling, don’t you think? He knows you’re looking at him and he doesn’t trust you. This mural was painted at the depths of the great depression. I suspect that most of the artists (if not all) who worked on it actually read the Daily Worker.

WPA art wasn’t great art, but it was real. It was art that everyone could understand. It told great stories and informed the masses. It was the peoples’ art. So much of it is gone, covered over, or neglected. So, if you see one, take a mo’ and feast your eyes on it. It’ll tell you a story and it’ll be a damn good one.