The Chinatown/Williamsburg Connection

The L.A. Chinatown/Williamsburg Connection
Cross-Pollination of Urban Cultures

by Cindy Stockton Moore

Small galleries are clustered together, undeniably urban but tucked away from the big-time hustle found elsewhere in the city. Pedestrians weave in and out of quaint streets amid specialty shops, campy restaurants and fellow cultural tourists; they are here to see the latest in the alternative gallery scene. It sounds like Williamsburg, but it is a world away. The buzz of traffic from the nearby Pasadena Highway has a different cadence than the rumble of the BQE, and Los Angeles’ Chinatown art scene possesses a unique identity. But despite their twenty-eight-hundred-mile remove, Williamsburg and this pocket of downtown Los Angeles share a great deal of artistic crossover.

More strip-mall than urban thoroughfare, Los Angeles’s Chinatown consists of a three-block area surrounding Chung King Road. Tucked away from street traffic, it is usually as artificially quiet as a movie set. Brightly illuminated signs advertise specialty shops and colored lanterns festoon the walkways. On the surface, this does not look like an arts district, but a surprising group of art galleries is nestled between the familiar souvenir stands and dim sum parlors. Like Williamsburg they cater to a youthful, experimental, and distinctly downtown aesthetic.

During the past several years, over twenty galleries have emerged to form the Chinatown art scene, while at last count Williamsburg weighs in with forty. Primarily the offshoot of new gallery owners, the Chinatown scene specializes in the latest artistic trends, showcasing young, emerging artists. The spaces, more often aligned with a white cube aesthetic than the quirky, mixed-use rooms of early Williamsburg, collectively form a compelling alternative to the posh Westside Los Angeles galleries.

Despite their divergent identities and egos, from fledging upstarts to blue-chip powerhouses, the Chinatown galleries function as a group. The choice to huddle for strength is not a new one—it is, in fact, reflected in the origins of Old Chinatown, which proved that the building of a geographic identity can transform a location into a destination.

As in any area facing rapid change, there are genuine concerns about the gentrifying effects of outside intrusion. Unlike present day Williamsburg—where condos seemingly sprout overnight– many of the Chinatown storefronts were abandoned prior to the galleries’ arrival, so the displacement that happens elsewhere is not yet an issue. As to the cultural differences of the new establishments, Chinatown native and community leader, Walter SooHoo, states quite simply: “The galleries are retail operations. This community is about retail and commerce—to me, it is no different.”

The sense of mutually beneficial cohabitation owes a great deal to the unique past of the area. Los Angeles’s Chinatown was the first community of its kind designed and built from the ground up by its citizens. From its inception in 1938, Chinatown has been owned by the community, so the galleries that bring rent income, bolster tourism, and increase property value are, for the most part, a welcome presence. Here, there is a history of inclusion and acceptance. On the eve of Chinatown’s historic inauguration, locals gathered to celebrate the unveiling of the elaborate West Gate, which frames the entrance to the town center. Its ornate inscription is a four-character poem composed by the poet T.K. Chung. It’s fitting translation: “cooperate to achieve.”

Many of the galleries that have since moved to the area have chosen to recall this rich history by keeping the moniker of the vacant space they took over. For instance, long-time resident, Black Dragon Society was a former kung-fu academy. Happy Lion and China Art Objects maintain the original signage of their respective storefronts, taking advantage of brightly colored neon and highly stylized fonts that so typify the neighborhood. These adoptive gestures form a visual and verbal bond to the community. In Brooklyn, Pierogi 2000 would be the closest equivalent to this expression of cultural empathy through nomenclature—perhaps coincidentally its founder, Joe Amrhein, is a former Los Angelian.

The movement between Los Angeles and the Brooklyn area is not surprising; both areas attract a similar brand of youthful ambition. Besides Amrhein, other prominent area figures, like Fred Tomaselli and Bruce Pearson, come to us via Los Angeles. But the times - when moving to New York was a virtual necessity for a West Coast artist’s career- may have changed. “I don’t know anybody who is going East Coast anymore,” writes Chris Acuna-Hansen, co-founder of the Acuna-Hansen gallery in Chinatown. Somewhere between the explosion of the art fair scene, the Internet, and the rise in the status of the Los Angeles galleries, “I don’t think that [LA] artists feel that pull anymore.”

Even though the influx of West Coast artists may have slowed, their artwork is still traveling cross-country. Jesse Weidel, who exhibits with Robert Berman in Los Angeles, is represented locally by Jack the Pelican. Dam, Struhltrager featured fellow Californians, Ryan Wolf, at Scope NY, and many of the flat file artists at Pierogi call Los Angeles home. 31 Grand shows the elaborate portraits of LA-based painter, Helen Garber. Formerly of Williamsburg, Garber keeps a keen eye on both scenes. She breaks down the trend:

Everyone wants the hot, young artist now, and there are many young hopefuls competing for those spots. Rent's cheapest in Brooklyn and Downtown L.A. so that's where you'll find them. You can follow the migration patterns from the art schools; they're like spawning salmon swimming upstream.

These art school trajectories often lead artists to a particular gallery. Because of the emphasis on new work, galleries in both locales are known to maintain ties with area colleges. Back when Bellwether was still in Williamsburg, its roster read like a Yale alumni newsletter. In Chinatown, Robert Herman, co-owner of Black Dragon Society, is also a professor at UCLA – it should come as no surprise that a number of former students have graced his gallery’s walls.

Acuna-HansenGallery once had strong ties to CalArts but has since decided not to focus solely on young LA artists. In the transition, they have taken on a number of Brooklyn artists, including James Franklin, Mark Stockton and Tracy Nakayama. The bicoastal relationship works well, but there are some drawbacks according to co-owner Chris Acuna-Hansen. Besides missing out on the personal and social interaction with their artists, there are some concerns that arise when representing someone who also works with a gallery closer to home. Although Acuna-Hansen wants their artists to be actively showing in New York and abroad:

It is a double edge sword.........NY gallerists are able to go into the studio and walk out with the best work....we have to constantly negotiate that with the artists and the other gallery...that is one of the perks of proximity....

Heather Stephens of 31 Grand in Williamsburg also maintains a number of bicoastal relationships. For her, the arrangements pose no real problems. Artists send her jpegs as they work, and she keeps close phone contact. When Adam Stennett was preparing for his show, Hold Me Down Under, he was painting in a studio just outside of Los Angeles. Although Stennett resides in Williamsburg, Southern California proves a less distracting environment for creating new work. During his time there, he maintained almost daily contact with the gallery, breaking the self-imposed isolation in which he was working.

In this age of instant communication and easy travel, the possibility of straddling both coasts exists where it didn’t before. Artists and galleries swap and deal, as the overlap and interplay of distant places steadily increases. Yet even while geographical borders break down, communities – like Chinatown and Williamsburg – group together to establish a distinct identity and set themselves apart as a cultural destination. The flavors are different – but the taste is shared. Each is composed of a complex blend of cultured past and future, attempting to perpetuate the new in an environment steeped in rich history. With these morphing parameters of space, the challenge is how to remain on the edge of something with no center.