Los Angeles is filled to the brim with art, history, and culture dating back hundreds of years. One of the reasons I started this blog, back in 2016, was to show these parts of Los Angeles; refute to the claim that the only things LA has to offer are Hollywood, beaches, and traffic. In searching for outdoor attractions to explore in the midst of the pandemic, I wound up spending an afternoon visiting the Great Wall of Los Angeles.

Begun in 1976 and completed over the course of seven years, the Great Wall of Los Angeles is the longest mural in the United States. Its half-mile span stretches from Burbank Boulevard to Oxnard Street along the flood control channel that runs parallel to Coldwater Canyon, in Valley Glen. It depicts the history of California from the prehistoric era through the 1960s, with notable events in U.S. and world history making guest appearances throughout. I had known about the Great Wall for a few years – had even driven past it a few times – but I had never taken a closer look at what it portrays.

Starting closest to Burbank Boulevard, the Great Wall, which is seventeen feet tall, begins its narrative at 20,000 BC. We see a wooly mammoth stepping into the La Brea tar pits. A whale breaching in the ocean. Succulents and other native plants. We see a Chumash village, dating to 1000 AD. This all seems pretty typical for an educational mural.

But then the Spanish arrive, and we see the muscular, dignified, Chumash people eyeing each other with concern as galleons sail toward their land. Next is a portrait of Junipero Serra, the 18th-century Spanish priest who enslaved Native people. The Gold Rush is depicted alongside a massive Confederate flag. There is a lynching: a Black man, Latino man, and Chinese man hang next to each other. An “iron horse” of a railroad, represented both literally and figuratively, obscures the face of a Native American. As you continue walking northbound and more of the mural comes into view, you start to realize what kind of art you’re about to see.

In 1974, the Army Corps of Engineers approached Judy Baca, a Chicana artist and UCLA professor, about creating a mural along the flood control channel as part of a beautification project. The concrete walls were an eyesore, and Baca saw not only a magnificent blank canvas but also an opportunity to empower local teenagers and young people in making their community more beautiful. Baca co-founded SPARC (Social and Public Art Resource Center) in 1976 to facilitate the years-long mural project. SPARC’s mission is “to foster artistic collaborations that empower communities who face marginalization or discrimination.” On their website, they speak to the significance and history of muralism in LA:

“Apart from its initial purpose of creating a capacity for the imagery of the people to occupy public space, Los Angeles murals spoke to the cultural demands of previously under-represented peoples.”

As such, the Great Wall project employed people aged 14-21, mostly from low-income families, as “Mural Makers”: assistants to the professional artists who designed the wall, participating both in planning and execution. The Mural Makers worked with the artists 4-8 hours per day during the summers, learning not only how to paint, but also gaining a deeper understanding of teamwork and diversity along the way.

The Great Wall interprets history through the eyes of the oppressed. My soul felt heavy as I was reminded, in bold color, that the fight for equality that has gotten so much new attention this year is a centuries-old fight. As I strolled through the 1800s, I noticed representations of the 1871 Chinese Massacre in downtown LA as well as the Women’s Suffrage Movement. Representation is from the point of view of the oppressed as well: a massive portrait of Thomas Edison includes a corn goddess whispering in his ear. A guide I picked up in the SPARC gift shop a couple years ago notes that “the Mural Makers found much evidence to support the theory that Edison was born in Zacatecas, Mexico and adopted by U.S. parents.”

The mural deftly interprets the highs and lows of American history and who has been impacted the most. The vivid hues and thickly outlined shapes and figures swivel from the revelry of a 1920s speakeasy, for example, to the somberness of a “Coloreds Only” drinking fountain, then to the glorious “Golden Age” of Hollywood. The artists sought not to present only what divides us, however: they also shared what unites us. In one particularly compelling transition, the mural shifts from the Great Depression and migration of “Okies” to California to the Japanese internment during WWII via an image of laundry hanging out to dry. The guide explains:

“The problem of how to connect these two migrations puzzled the Mural Makers. Baca remembers asking her assistants ‘What did the Okies and the Nisei have in common?’ The answer: laundry. Lines of hanging wash form a visual connection between these two sections.”

Connection between eras took place not only in the art itself but across the five summers the Great Wall was painted. Different groups of young people and artists passed the baton to each other in 1976, 1978, 1980, 1981, and 1983, adding 300 feet to the mural each year and using a total of 600 gallons of paint. Throughout it all, Baca served as the project’s director and champion. In a 1983 interview, she reflected:

“I thought what we really need is a huge wall that would bring us all together, a project that would make it possible for artists from various places to work on this piece together. And for it to be the story of ethnic peoples in California. In the context of one another… What if they were all in one place in which you could feel the weight of the history of all of the various people who essentially built the state and built the county?”

The mural carries us from the 1940s through 1960s with discrimination against Jews, women, Latinx and Black people, and LGBTQ folks. We see the terror of the Zoot Suit Riots (where American soldiers, sailors, and marines brutalized Mexican Americans in the streets), the specter of the Holocaust, and the obliteration of Chavez Ravine, a Mexican-American neighborhood, to build Dodger Stadium. One panel shows a Rosie the Riveter-like figure being pulled away, dismayed, from her job at a factory into the suburbia and housewifery of the San Fernando Valley.

But we also witness the heroes of the Civil Rights Movement, the triumphs of the Gay Rights Movement, the pride of a Chicano military veteran, and an homage to Jewish achievements in art and science. The final panel shows a female runner, reminiscent of the Chumash people at the beginning of the mural, striding forward with an Olympic torch. Just behind her are Olympians Billy Mills, Wilma Rudolph, Sammy Lee, and Vicky Manalo Draves, all of them incredible athletes who overcame tremendous obstacles to win gold medals. I wondered, “why don’t we learn about these athletes in school?” though of course I know the answer.

I highly recommend purchasing the Great Wall of Los Angeles Walking Guide before your visit; it’s available as a paper copy and a digital download from SPARC.

If you’re in the mood for another historic mural, don’t miss the segment of the Berlin Wall that lives on Wilshire Boulevard.

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