Slab City . East Jesus
photographic recollection by George Kutnar
photographic recollection by George Kutnar
East Jesus was an unexpected find while on a University excursion to the Salton Sea. Bombay Beach, Salvation Mountain and Slab City were our official stops, but by blind luck and a rare set of circumstances, I stumbled onto East Jesus in a pocket of a place where things aren't so easily hidden. This is my photographic recap of something that has continued to vex me since the day I was introduced into its intricacies.
from http://chaster.us/ej_old.html:
The name East Jesus is whimsical, derived from the American idiomatic expression used to describe a remote, presumably uninteresting place. It is also a nod of admiration to the nearby folk art masterpiece, Salvation Mountain, but is not affiliated with it nor any other religious organization. East Jesus is the home of the Slab City Gun Club, the Slab City Zen Center, amateur radio station KI6RRX, and is an as-yet unofficial outpost of the Ancient and Honorable Order of E Clampus Vitus. A growing community of pioneering artists, engineers and ne’er-dowells, some fond of strong drink, call East Jesus their home away from home, a retreat from their stressful jet-age lifestyle in a calm, inspiring and majestic desert landscape with a few “thrills of excitement” provided by military operations in the bombing range. Collaborative projects are encouraged, iconoclasts are invited, camping is always free and a few guest rooms are available.
Carfeul where you point that thing, boy.
from http://chaster.us/ej_old.html:
The name East Jesus is whimsical, derived from the American idiomatic expression used to describe a remote, presumably uninteresting place. It is also a nod of admiration to the nearby folk art masterpiece, Salvation Mountain, but is not affiliated with it nor any other religious organization. East Jesus is the home of the Slab City Gun Club, the Slab City Zen Center, amateur radio station KI6RRX, and is an as-yet unofficial outpost of the Ancient and Honorable Order of E Clampus Vitus. A growing community of pioneering artists, engineers and ne’er-dowells, some fond of strong drink, call East Jesus their home away from home, a retreat from their stressful jet-age lifestyle in a calm, inspiring and majestic desert landscape with a few “thrills of excitement” provided by military operations in the bombing range. Collaborative projects are encouraged, iconoclasts are invited, camping is always free and a few guest rooms are available.
Carfeul where you point that thing, boy.
^ The precursor for what was to become a momentous personal experience for me. To the right lay Salvation Mountain, while just down the road...Slab City.
^ Leonard’s monument is truly an overwhelming testament to dedication. Had the excursion ended here, I would have been content.
^ Slab City was slated next on the itinerary. I had quite a bit of apprehension about photographing these particular living spaces, unaware of what constituted proper etiquette in such a situation. I snapped this single image sadly assuming that it would be my only visual documentation.
^ I would like to introduce Donnie
On my way out, I saw Donnie in the distance with a gas can in one hand, a water jug at his feet, and his thumb in the air.
I don’t know what compelled me to stop, but it was the best (conscious or otherwise) decision I’ve made in a very long time.
There was a gas station three miles away (a trek he had planned on making both ways in pretty nasty heat). He worked some magic at the pump and convinced someone to fill him halfway up. He had told me they were filling up to head to El Centro, the next “spot”.
I needed to hear more.
I topped off his gas can and drove him back. He must have sensed my curiousity - the offer was made to show me around Slab City. The window of time I had was shrinking, but the opportunity was too great. In our limited time, Donnie gave quite the rundown of Slab City’s social infrastructure. After a stop at the hot springs and a makeshift performance stage, he mentioned a spot that he hadn’t actually seen yet himself - East Jesus. He only knew how to get there by an approximated direction someone had told him.
We found it.
On my way out, I saw Donnie in the distance with a gas can in one hand, a water jug at his feet, and his thumb in the air.
I don’t know what compelled me to stop, but it was the best (conscious or otherwise) decision I’ve made in a very long time.
There was a gas station three miles away (a trek he had planned on making both ways in pretty nasty heat). He worked some magic at the pump and convinced someone to fill him halfway up. He had told me they were filling up to head to El Centro, the next “spot”.
I needed to hear more.
I topped off his gas can and drove him back. He must have sensed my curiousity - the offer was made to show me around Slab City. The window of time I had was shrinking, but the opportunity was too great. In our limited time, Donnie gave quite the rundown of Slab City’s social infrastructure. After a stop at the hot springs and a makeshift performance stage, he mentioned a spot that he hadn’t actually seen yet himself - East Jesus. He only knew how to get there by an approximated direction someone had told him.
We found it.
^ Entrance to East Jesus
^ Recurring theme in Slab City
^ I’m sure that if i had slowed my frantic thinking long enough to consider it, I would have been a bit more nervous about the methods locals employed to deal with trespassers.
^ I wonder how Donnie perceived what he saw here. It was a first visit for the both of us. I was studying some hidden gem in the desert, and he was checking out his neighbor’s handywork.
^ I had noticed earlier that someone had affixed a number of solar panels to a broken down motor home. I asked Donnie how someone could afford a set up like that. He explained that everything here was a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down.
^ Marked entrance to the residential area I believe
^ Thankfully, the bullet holes were not fresh, nor were they an omen (that i know of).
^ Corrosion of conformity?
^ The temptation to reenact Excaliber was almost overwhelming. After reading the mayor's rules and repercussions from home, I'm glad I didn't.
^ From the site's literature:
Vulvar Deconstruction of a Grand Piano
Matter without form, entropy in slow stasis. A subjective experience of a third-order emergent pattern. Hydrocephalus. A weapon of uncertain scope.
Vulvar Deconstruction of a Grand Piano
Matter without form, entropy in slow stasis. A subjective experience of a third-order emergent pattern. Hydrocephalus. A weapon of uncertain scope.
^ Shape, form, hierarchy
^ Don't think too hard.
^ Definitely Libertarian.
^ Transit Antenna Bus
^ One of many art cars
^ From the site's literature:
Erectile Dysfunction
The old man spoke in tongues. We were trying to make it as far as the foothills before dark. The long opening in the ground seemed to follow us. To the west we saw the evening star above the orange-red glow on the horizon. “There is no such thing as the supernatural - if there were, it would be a part of the natural.” Thus we fell up into the sky, one by one.
Erectile Dysfunction
The old man spoke in tongues. We were trying to make it as far as the foothills before dark. The long opening in the ground seemed to follow us. To the west we saw the evening star above the orange-red glow on the horizon. “There is no such thing as the supernatural - if there were, it would be a part of the natural.” Thus we fell up into the sky, one by one.
^ The tower Donnie used as a reference to find East Jesus
^ Donnie's rainbow family
Good luck in El Centro, friends.
Good luck in El Centro, friends.
It amazes me how close I came to missing East Jesus, and subsequently the great insight I was given into the workings of Slab City. Would I have picked Donnie up if I had seen him on the side of some suburban street with his thumb raised? Probably not. I don’t know what compelled me to do what I did on this day, but I do know it was not an act of kindness. It wasn’t curiosity, nor was it some astute journalistic realization of opportunity. I guess I would have to say it was a gut feeling about nothing in particular. What I can say without a doubt is that I stumbled upon an experimental, habitable, extensible artwork in progress in Slab City, California.
Pop. 1, Elev. 75
Middle of nowhere, turn left.
Pop. 1, Elev. 75
Middle of nowhere, turn left.
