
When most people think of street art they conjure up a witty, gritty Banksy spray-paint stencil or a graphic glue-down poster by Shepard Fairey.
But street art, which has a strong presence in the Los Angeles area (West Hollywood is no exception), doesn’t have to be political or subversive, it can also be whimsical.
I happened across one example in WeHo, an “Urban Geode” by street artist “A Common Name.”
Appearing in the nooks and crannies of buildings, these geodes look like crystalline crust emerging from a missing brick or open vent. The ones I found were “growing” out of the underfloor ventilation openings of a restaurant.
Made of cut, folded, painted and treated paper, these pieces portray a rare natural event, one that is by definition hidden. Geodes form in hiding and are revealed only when a rock (or in this case a building) is broken, cut, cracked or otherwise opened.
These geodes make viewers wonder, for a moment, “just what is behind the surface of our walls?”
Are they entirely filled with these formations? And what within the walls could cause such beautiful things to grow?
A charming thought.
To see a map of geode locations, including the one here in West Hollywood (8782 Sunset Boulevard at Palm) visit http://acommonname.com/street-art-project/.

When the Pacific Design Center was built in 1975 the West Hollywood area was made up of low-scale residential neighborhoods.
Needless to say, the hulking structure was highly controversial. Residents complained of the design’s lack of relation to the history of the area and its complete disjunction from the surrounding residential scale. Pauline Schindler, the widow of Rudolph Schindler, architect of the Schindler House and an early West Hollywood resident, was one of the most vociferous critics of the design.
But Cesar Pelli, architect of the PDC, is a notorious smooth-talker and eminently likable man. His charm and ability to disagree without being disagreeable smoothed the controversy over.
Blue glass, he argued, would help to hide the bulk of the building by blending in with the sky above and, simultaneously, the reflection in the glass would speak to the scale of the surrounding neighborhood.
The result is a building with an exterior both shocking and right; like a well-kept classic car, it has barely aged. The original PDC is a building that, if only because of its color, would be just as controversial today as it was in 1975—an example of the provocative power of color.
Ever Wonder what is behind the high walls emblazoned with hazardous material warning signs on the back side of the Beverly Center?
Shielded from San Vicente Boulevard is, in fact, an actively drilling and pumping oil well.
(Illustration by Gustave Heully)
Managed by Plains Exploration and Production (PXP) this well taps into both the Salt Lake Oil Field and the adjacent Beverly Hills Oil Field. Discovered in 1902, one tip of the Salt Lake Oil Field begins in West Hollywood and runs generally along Beverly Boulevard all the way past Highland Avenue and south to Wilshire Boulevard. (See map above) where it is the source of the tar at the La Brea Tar Pits next to LACMA.
Oil wells exist all across urban Los Angeles, long predating the neighborhoods that have been built around and over them. Most of these wells have long since been abandoned, but at the Beverly Center site drilling continues. Advances in drilling technology, by drilling at an angle from behind soundproof walls, make this single location able to reach faraway deposits of oil, boring down as deep as 3,300 feet below the city streets.
The desirability of areas like Mid-City and Beverly Hills may seem at odds with being located above an oil field, but the wealth in these areas can be partially attributed to the subterranean geography. Oil companies pay royalties to those who own land above the oil field — thus the black gold that stirs thousands of feet below the surface help pay for the many Jimmy Choo heels and Mercedes SUVs that navigate the streets above it.
West Hollywood’s borders reflect the progressive creation of Los Angeles districts. The lighter the color, the later the date of the annexation. (Graphic by Gustave Heully)
As Los Angeles expanded during the 20th century new districts and suburbs were created by annexing land from neighboring areas. West Hollywood long resisted incorporation into the encroaching city and its borders today reflect both the variety of external forces and the local desire to retain the area’s distinct and autonomous identity.
This autonomy was what drew many to West Hollywood initially, including the speakeasies of the 1920s, celebrity clubs of the 50s, hippy and rock and roll culture of the 60s and the homosexual community—each sought refuge from Los Angeles Police Department raids and harassment within West Hollywood’s borders.
Each annexation (see map above) has a story of its own that reveals the reason for the jagged borders. For example, the 1979 addition to the Fairfax district included land that was specifically acquired by Los Angeles for the construction of the Beverly Center, which was finished in 1982.
As a city logo, the outline of West Hollywood is a reminder of the city’s retention of its identity by maintaining its geography.

You’re not standing above a city water reservoir; these markers were part of a 2007 program called “Well West Hollywood.” The program mapped, measured and marked 2.5-mile paths through the city to promote fitness.
There are three paths: The red arrows lead you uphill — they don’t call it the Cardio/Historic Route for nothing — from Kings Road Park past a string of historic buildings to Formosa. Like parks? The yellow markers take you from West Hollywood Park to two others, Kings Road and Plummer. Curious what the neighborhood west of the PDC is like? Follow the blue arrows, starting at Santa Monica and San Vicente, in a convenient loop.
Tie your shoes and follow the arrows, fitness is built into the city infrastructure.
See the yellow path map here.