In Alameda, near where I used to work, is a warren of abandoned buildings, all chain-linked off, and teasing me with glimpses of graffiti. It needled at me for years, but my fence-jumping days are behind me. One day a fellow artist told me she had found a way in and shared her secret with me. She described the insides as feeling like rape and murder, so now the quiet whisperings of the buildings turned into urgent calls for me to see. Do I need more therapy? Maybe later. I finally snuck in, armed with my camera and a knife. It was beautiful. A hidden treasure. Many of the works I didn't snap, because why should I take credit for another person's art. But I did find interesting bits and pieces that I felt I could incorporate into my own work with a clear conscious. With this piece, I was looking for something unexpected to introduce which still complimented the graffiti. This tree was perfect as the fruit, or whatever it is, is almost the same color as some of the paint. These trees are in the parking lot of a business in Emeryville, a favorite eating place of mine and my son. On this particular day, the sun was making the trees' colors so vibrant, and the tree itself was so symmetrical that it caught my eye and wouldn't let me go without capturing it. Together they are anarchy in both man and nature. The stillness and death of decaying construction with the vibrance and growth of life in nature. Oh, and by the way, I didn't get raped or murdered, just said "hi" to a couple of junkies that looked like they just wanted to be left alone.
