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January 20-March 3, 2018 Monica Wyatt’s mesmerizing solo exhibition Continuum, takes the viewer for a ride through a theme park of the imagination. Born of a synthesis of art and science—both artistic invention and intervention—formerly quotidian objects morph into dreamlike assemblage constructions. Objects once forgotten, abandoned, discarded or overlooked are first re-envisioned, then reincarnated into prominent new roles as the components of whimsical creations held together with the glue of magic. Zip ties, glass marbles, wire, mattress springs, dominoes, hairnets and (shades of Noah Purifoy) sardine tins; these are just a few of the items Wyatt has salvaged from a treasure trove of once-disparate things whose orbits might never have intersected in their original, strictly utilitarian roles. Re-deployed by the artist, once-incongruous objects find new meaning, fitting together like puzzle pieces into an unexpected formal harmony, such as an array of electrical capacitors that assume the guise of lichen-like plant forms. Wyatt composes these new configurations with an eloquent and seamless craft that might cajole the viewer into believing they could have evolved that way organically. The artist’s debut solo exhibition, her first collaboration with curator jill moniz, occupies three distinct spaces. In the entryway, a sampling of assemblage works is mounted on the walls, an overture to the larger body of work. Adjacent in the right hand gallery is an intriguing mini-survey of Wyatt’s assemblage work from 1999 to the present. Among these are a few pieces contained within rectangular framing devices such as wooden boxes. Leveraging this construct, the artist has deliberately focused her vision, confining the compositions so each element thoughtfully interacts with its counterparts as well as with the self-imposed parameters of the box or frame. Inside the third gallery space, the notion of borders or frames is utterly abandoned. Concealed behind curtained doorways leading to the room on the left, strategically-aimed soft lighting filters down on an amorphous cloud-like constellation of cascading, enrobed, acrylic orbs suspended from the ceiling. The space, which the artist described as “womb-like,” feels like a secluded and remote enclosure far removed from the outside world. When Shadows Chase the Light, the artist’s most recent assemblage, defies the confines of a box– although in a way, the room itself could be construed as a giant box. In her appropriation of this space, Wyatt makes it thoroughly her own, inviting the viewer to enter and experience the installation almost as a participant. Floating on the perimeters of the room are complementary works including, Continuum 1, 2 and 3, richly burnished wood and rock structures that infuse the atmosphere with the essence of an enchanted forest. The prevailing palette is quiet, reflecting colors seen in nature: gray tones, sepias, umbers, white, black and ivory, such as might be found on the landscape of a driftwood strewn beach on an overcast day. Rust—the color as well as the actual oxidized substance—appears prominently as the powdery patina acquired on old metal. Left intact, the rust seems a memento of mysterious past narratives, which the artist has made a point to respect and preserve. Its presence adds layers of nuance and meaning—a symbolic continuum of references—that deepen the resonance of Wyatt’s work.

Nestled in the desert landscape between the San Gabriel Mountain Range to the south and the Tehachapi Mountain Range to the north, in the heart of the burgeoning bedroom community of Lancaster, is an unexpected oasis of art and culture. Founded in 1986 as the Lancaster Museum/Art Gallery, today, the Lancaster Museum of Art and History (MOAH) is aggressively advancing an agenda of art appreciation and artist engagement in the Antelope Valley—and beyond. MOAH is located on a welcoming block of Lancaster Boulevard in the BLVD Cultural District. Here piped music infuses the air, murals make the outside walls come alive and high school students drop by Thursday afternoons when the museum stays open late. Even the art cognoscenti of Los Angeles—those with access to the competing world-class art attractions of the big city—make the 70-mile trip to check out MOAH’s ambitious curatorial program. The museum’s agenda wasn’t always so far-reaching. Originally housed in an 8,000 square foot building on Sierra Highway, its mission focused then on showing the work of local artists and preserving a permanent collection of artifacts and records related to Antelope Valley history. As the city grew, the museum evolved. In 2010, the City broke ground on a new site, the outcome of a public/private partnership between the City of Lancaster and Steve Eglash and Scott Ehrlich, founders of InSite Development. MOAH’s manager and curator, Andi Campognone, came aboard in 2011 to help steer the museum’s vision in concert with the new building, which opened in 2012. Since then, MOAH has gone on to do much more than just organize exhibitions. In fact, art shows account for a mere two percent of its activities, said Campognone in a recent interview with Fabrik. The thrust of the museum’s agenda is focused on public engagement: connecting with school kids, local residents and artists. “Everyone always goes back to, ‘Oh, the museum has this great show,’” said Campognone, formerly a curator at Riverside Art Museum. “They think it’s just this building that houses exhibitions, and for two and a half months there’s this kind of static engagement with these inanimate objects.” Campognone is emphatic about correcting this misperception. “It’s not just our job to show the work. It’s also our job to create the next generation of human beings who are interested in understanding culture on any level. Just plopping a museum in the middle of the desert and hoping that the handful of people who are sophisticated enough to value the arts will show up… that’s kind of like the icing on the cake. The most important part is having that museum supplement all the young people with experience and education and engagement. That’s where it starts.” Unlike most museums, MOAH is a municipal institution, overseen by Lancaster’s director of parks, recreation and arts, which gives Campognone considerable leeway in charting the museum’s course “When it comes to the agenda for the museum, it’s me and another curator,” she said, referring to Robert Benitez, curator of MOAH: Cedar, the museum’s nearby satellite exhibition space. “We have a foundation board, but their sole job is to fundraise, so our collecting is based on what is relevant and what fits our mission, not supporting our board members’ collections,” said Campognone. “Our collecting mission and our exhibition mission revolve around accessibility for the community.” Addressing the need for public engagement, especially in a somewhat remote location, MOAH has a vast range of outreach initiatives. For example, the museum’s foundation pays for school buses so local kids can visit. They get a tour, engage in hands-on art making in the MOAH classroom and view the outdoor murals. “We talk [to them] about public art, and in that component, for young people, it’s pride of ownership in your own community,” Campognone said. Not a kunsthalle, MOAH also has a permanent collection. To kick off the museum’s contemporary collection, Eglash and his wife, artist Gisela Colon, donated several pieces, hoping to inspire other collectors to do the same. The collection has grown each year since MOAH opened. As Campognone noted, it’s crucial for the collection to reflect the relationship between the aerospace industry—long centered in the immediate vicinity—and movements in contemporary art. “We wouldn’t have the resin artists, we’d have none of the Light and Space artists, none of the Finish Fetish culture, none of what’s happened in painting. All of that directly comes from materials that were developed through aerospace and the military; and that happened in the Antelope Valley,” she said. Edwards Air Force Base, Boeing, Lockheed and Northrop Grumman are all nearby. Leveraging this aerospace connection, the museum is planning a show with NASA in 2020. Also vital is the museum’s dedicated effort to engage emerging and mid-career artists from the LA area, one of the reasons Campognone said she decided to stay at the museum when her initial contract ended in 2012 after the opening of the new building. “Right around that time there was all that uproar happening at MOCA. This was an opportunity to support the LA art makers. MOCA, when it started, that was its mission, to focus on contemporary art being made in Los Angeles. Over the years, it just got further and further away from that, where now it’s blue chip shows from artists from everywhere else but Los Angeles. I was hearing from all these [local] artists, ‘Where do we go? There isn’t a quality exhibition space that supports us.’ I thought, ‘I want to be here because I think I have an opportunity to fill that void.’” Filling that void has paid off for artists and MOAH alike. “It’s been a kind of a blessing,” said Campognone. “There’s so much work being made in Los Angeles that’s valid and relevant that isn’t even getting two looks by the larger museum organizations, but we have this beautiful space, why not show it? Why not support it, and why not be a steppingstone for emerging artists. Why not help some of those mid-career artists who need that book produced or who need that film made, or to help them in that part of their career?” Fittingly, the current exhibition, It Takes a Village (through April 22, 2018), features the work of LA artists. Curated by Betty Ann Brown, the headliner exhibit, Memory & Identity: The Marvelous Art of Betye, Lezley and Alison Saar, is a survey of the work of the extraordinary artist family: the mother and her two daughters. MOAH has published a catalogue to accompany the exhibit, because, as Campognone said, “The show doesn’t end when the show ends.” Related exhibits by Richard S. Chow, Lisa Bartelson, Jane Szabo, Wyatt Kenneth Coleman, Rebecca Campbell and Scott Yoell, investigate the theme of family, identity and community from different angles. It’s no coincidence that the community theme echoes the museum’s mission—and raison d’être. The last exhibit at MOAH Cedar, Monica Wyatt: Continuum, (January 20-March 3), showcased the work of the Los Angeles based assemblage artist.

Construction of the Los Angeles-Owen’s Valley Aqueduct system took place from 1908-1912. This project required large crews, many of which had to relocate to the Antelope Valley for work. Large mule trains were used to ship supplies across the desert, delivering loads of piping and other construction materials. Frank Sundeen (1884 – 1968) was one of these workers, helping to construct this massive infrastructure project. While working on the aqueduct system, he reportedly dug out a fellow worker who had been buried following a cave-in event. After working on the construction of the aqueduct, he went on to work as a miner in several of the Antelope Valley’s local mines. "Gurba, Norma H. Legendary Locals of the Antelope Valley. Arcadia, 2013. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"

Marcos Fernando Andrade was born into one of the oldest families in the Antelope Valley. His Mexican-born father, Pedro Andrade, traveled to California in 1858 from Sonora. He then married a daughter of a well-known Californian family, Narcissa Valdez, whose family originally owned Rancho La Brea in Los Angeles. The Andrade family settled themselves in the Leona Valley area, becoming well-known and liked among other prominent valley pioneers. Marcos Andrade served as constable of the Fairmont and Antelope townships from 1889 through 1892. While serving as constable, he also managed a large feed store, neighboring Mace Mayes saloon. Mayes would become the next appointed constable. Speculations began to arise about local cattle-rustling, with accusations pointed at Andrade. Some even believed that he was in partnership with Mayes until Andrade himself had several cattle stolen. Having his cattle stolen prompted Andrade to charge Mayes and his partners for the crime, with investigations proving Andrade’s own lack of involvement. Mayes and his gang were ultimately sent to prison for their acts. "Gurba, Norma H. Legendary Locals of the Antelope Valley. Arcadia, 2013. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"

The Southern Pacific Railroad (SPRR) began construction through what is now the Antelope Valley in 1876. At this time, Lancaster was not identified as either a town or a settlement – it was merely listed as a siding track. Records show that in 1883 a clerk by the name of J.W. Lancaster was working as a clerk at a shop there. Real-estate developer Moses Wicks purchased 60 sections of land in the area from the SPRR, having Lancaster officially recorded and surveyed in the early 1880s. It is possible that Lancaster was named for the early clerk J.W. Lancaster, though speculation is our best source as no official records are known. Rumor used to say that Wicks named Lancaster after his hometown of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, but this was proven false as he was originally from Aberdeen, Missouri. Mr. Wicks and his real-estate endeavors were far-reaching, persuading many distant settlers to come and homestead in Lancaster. Wicks would disperse pamphlets across the United States and abroad, depicting the opportunities and lifestyles available in Lancaster. "Gurba, Norma H. Legendary Locals of the Antelope Valley. Arcadia, 2013. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"

A blacksmith is a metalsmith who creates objects by forging metal using tools to hammer, bend, and cut the material into form. Common jobs for blacksmiths in the 19th and 20th centuries included shoeing horses and manufacturing and fixing household and agricultural tools. Due to the nature of daily existence, a blacksmith was a necessary part of any developing pioneer town. Lancaster was no exception to this, hosting several blacksmiths throughout the years. Frank Dowler came to the Antelope Valley in 1890, working first as the local blacksmith, with a second job as a deputy sheriff. In 1892, he was awarded the position of constable and left his job of blacksmithing. Lancaster's most well-known blacksmith was George Black, often called "Black the Blacksmith" by local residents, operating his shop in the early-mid 20th century. His smith shop was a large barn-like structure, located on Beech Avenue and Eleventh Street (present-day Milling Street). "Gurba, Norma H. Lancaster. Arcadia, 2005. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"

Jane Pinheiro (1907 - 1978) is known in the Antelope Valley as “The Great Poppy Lady”, partly because she played a vital role in the conservation of local natural landscapes and partly because of her famed depictions of local wildflowers. Jane was instrumental in establishing at least eight wildflower and wildlife sanctuaries in the Antelope Valley. Among these, the Interpretive Center at the California State Poppy Reserve is named in her honor, for her tireless work as a conservationist. In the late 1920s, Jane and her mother moved to Pasadena from Colorado to operate a boarding house. One of the guests was a young dairyman, Joseph Pinheiro, a native of the Azores. He and Jane married in 1930. Jane and her husband moved to the Antelope Valley in 1940, where Joe got a job working at “Pancho” Barnes’ famed dude ranch, "The Happy Bottom Riding Club". It was during this time, Jane became fascinated with the desert flora and began to sketch and paint them. Though she was a self-taught artist, her watercolor depictions are so botanically correct that they are often used for identification purposes. To assist the visitors who came to the Antelope Valley to witness the wildflower blooms each spring, Jane established an information center in 1963. It was first located on Sierra Highway, then at the fairgrounds, and finally at the Lancaster Museum and Art Gallery on Cedar Street. The Antelope Valley California State Poppy Reserve, in its current location, was dedicated in 1976, with Jane in attendance. The Interpretive Center was dedicated in Jane's honor after her death on April 17, 1982, with her husband Joe in attendance. Jane did whatever she thought necessary to protect the natural beauty of the desert. Toward the preservation of Joshua trees, she enlisted the support of Assemblyman Allen Miller, making the 2,720-acre Joshua Tree State Park a reality in 1960. This park was renamed as Saddleback Butte State Park to avoid confusion with the Joshua Tree National Monument (now the Joshua Tree National Park). In addition to her many local and state projects, she brought great honor to the community when she earned two national awards in conservation: the coveted National Oak Leaf Service award from The Nature Conservancy and the Sol Feinstein Environmental award. Jane died on October 14, 1978, and her husband Joe in August 1982. Her living legacy will persist forever in her paintings, the organizations she founded, and the parks she helped to establish. "Gurba, Norma H. Legendary Locals of the Antelope Valley. Arcadia, 2013. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"

With the Antelope Valley's annual Poppy Festival to be held this weekend on April 21-22, wildflowers are on the minds of local residents and more distant visitors alike. At the onset of the spring season, the Antelope Valley often blooms with vibrant wildflowers, streaking the normally brown hills with various and quickly changing pops of color. The wildflower most synonymous with the Antelope Valley is the California Poppy (Eschscholzia californica), painting much the west side of Lancaster with bright orange every year. The wildflower bloom generally occurs from mid-March through early-May but varies widely each year depending on rainfall. Unfortunately, this year's bloom is small scale due to the late-season rains, but poppies can still be found scattered around the valley. Past Antelope Valley residents were amazed by the wildflower blooms as well, with early Lancaster pioneers such as Myrtle "Myrtie" Webber and later Jane S. Pinheiro advocating for land conservation to preserve the beautiful natural landscape from impending development. Due to Jane's efforts toward conservation, in cooperation with the Wildflower Preservation Committee and other individuals and organizations, the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve was designated as a natural preserve for the wildflowers in 1976. The Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve and the Jane S. Pinheiro Interpretive Center in west Lancaster now offer visitors a glimpse into the undeveloped desert, with winding trails traversing through fields of wildflowers. Though the flowers are beautiful, visitors must remember to be mindful of the environment and are reminded not to step off-trail to avoid damaging the flowers. It is also against California State Law to remove any of the flowers from the ground on state property.

The BLVD The BLVD is a portion of downtown Lancaster where you will find restaurants, bakeries, candy shops, stores, and museums. It is paved with bricks and you will find beautiful murals peeking out around every street corner. They have a Farmers Market there on Thursday evenings. MOAH Lancaster I love art museums and so we made sure to stop by the MOAH Lancaster. The exhibits were lovely and unique; each one of us had a different favorite piece. I love hearing what my children think that paintings and sculptures mean. Outside of the museum was one of the beautiful murals in the cultural BLVD district. We had a lovely getaway to Lancaster, a hidden gem of a town in the California desert. We love exploring this multi-faceted state of ours as a family and hope this inspires you to do the same!

Elizabeth Lake is a natural lake, lying directly along the San Andreas fault line in the Sierra Pelona Mountains in the northwestern edge of Los Angeles County. Though it is a natural perennial lake, it is known to dry out during severe drought years. The origin of its current name, Elizabeth Lake, has two folklore stories. The first story claims that Elizabeth Wingfield fell in the lake in 1849 while she was camping with her family. Walking on a log to fill buckets for cooking and drinking, Elizabeth slipped and fell in. She was not injured, but several other families witnessed her fall, and in fun, they began calling the area "Elizabeth's Lake". This version is unlikely, however, as it is undocumented. The other story ties the name to Elizabeth Clayton Clark (1844 - 1911). In 1859, the Clayton family started a stagecoach, trading post, and dining establishment at their Tavern House and Ranch near the lake. She was well-liked and known by the frequent through-travelers, who always made sure to stop and chat with her at the family's kitchen. Three of her siblings are buried near the lake, closely linking the family to the area. Elizabeth Lake once marked a dividing point between the territories of the Tataviam, Kitanemuk, and Serrano tribes of local Native Americans. The Tataviam may have called it Kivarum. In 1780, Spanish explorer-priest Junipero Serra named the lake La Laguna de Diablo (Devil's Lake in English), because some who lived nearby believed that within it dwelt a pet of the devil, which later came to be known as the "Elizabeth Lake Monster". This mythical folklore story has origins that date back to the early 1800s, with numerous reports of strange happenings in the area. One Los Angeles Times article from August 1, 1886, claims sightings of the "Elizabeth Lake Monster", reporting Mr. Peter R. Simpson's account in the following excerpts: "On the evening of the 15th day of July... Mr. Simpson says that he noticed the peculiarly penetrating odor arising from the water. It seemed to float above the lake, and to fill the little valley with vague, undefinable forms of mist... bout midnight, Mr. Simpson says he was awakened by a terrible commotion which seemed to come from out in the lake. There was an awful roaring, like the muttering of distant thunder, accompanied by a peculiarly loud, indescribable hissing noise... Far out in the lake was what seemed to be a black cloud, and below it, the water was seething and boiling... no sooner had he settled [back] to sleep than there was a great rushing through the air as of mighty wings, and the wagon was lifted bodily from the ground, carried about twenty yards out into the plain and dropped... There was an immediate stampede of stock, ...scattering [the stock] over the plain and a dark form whizzing through the air in the distance. The noise of rushing wings continued, growing fainter... For a moment Mr. Simpson thought that he had encamped in the path of a cyclone. Thoroughly bewildered, with a rifle in his hand, he stood listening intently to the great silence which hung upon the desert, when from out that stillness there arose afar off the sound of a great conflict... across the desert, he followed that sound. Arriving at the summit of a low knoll, Mr. Simpson passed and gazed down into the little valley below him... The monster had come upon a drove of antelope sleeping in the gulch and had at once attacked them. About ten feet from where Mr. Simpson stood a fine buck lay bleeding, bitten clean through at one stroke of the "thing's" horrid jaws. Around another buck, the monster's wings seemed folded, while its long tail, barbed at the end, played around the pair incessantly, evidently seeking to transfix the antelope. Mr. Simpon's description of this "thing" is very succinct: "It was about thirty feet long overall, I should judge," he said, "and of a warm reddish color, with a long snout and jagged yellow teeth. It had enormous wings, rigged like those of a bat evidently, long hind legs and a long tail, with a seemingly hard, barbed point. From its head and neck fell a shaggy mane, and its huge eyes gleamed like two horrid fires." For ten minutes Mr. Simpson stood as one fascinated by this strange conflict, and then, being a keen sportsman, he lifted his gun and took a shot at the monster. He heard the bullet strike, and rebound. Then, disturbed by the shot, the beast in the grasp of the monster was transfixed a moment later, and the "thing" arose into the air, carrying its prey in its mouth, and made for the lake where it sank with a splash that must have been audible for miles. There was no further disturbance that night. In the morning Mr. Simpson returned to the scene of the strange conflict and secured the carcass of the dead antelope. He also picked up some scales in which his bullet or the horns of the antelope might have knocked from the sides of the monster. These scales are round, semi-transparent, about the size of dinner plates, and of a reddish glazed appearance, somewhat similar to the ground glass. Mr. Simpson still has them in his possession." No sightings of the Monster have been reported since the late 1800s. Los Angeles Times, A Holy Terror: The Fiery Dragon of Elizabeth Lake

The Antelope Valley has a long history of cowboy and ranching culture. Cowboys and cattle ranching began in the Antelope Valley as early as the 1840's, becoming more prevalent in the following decade after the gold rush led to a higher demand for beef. The construction of the Southern Pacific Railroad through Lancaster in 1876 increased the need for local cattle ranching, as well. Early Antelope Valley homesteaders used the demand for livestock to their advantage, using cattle-raising as an economic opportunity among other agricultural pursuits. Cattle ranching was especially important in the region between 1886 and 1910. Cowboys and farmers sparred with each other over a number of factors, including competition for land and crop damage by livestock; the tension prompted farmers to erect fences to keep cattle out and led ranchers to discourage prospective farmers from settling in the region. By the 1920's the cattle industry had slowed down tremendously in the valley due to a growing population and disputes with sheep herders and alfalfa growers. Eventually, local cattle ranching ceased entirely. Among the best known local cowboys were Ted Atmore, Emery Kidd, Henry Specht, Harry Butterworth, Rawley Duntley and Forrest Patterson. Heinrich "Henry" Specht (1878 - 1948) first became a cowboy in 1888 with his friend Ted Atmore, working together to round up local cattle herds. After fighting in the Spanish-American War, he returned to the Antelope Valley and opened up The Corner Saloon on the northwest corner of present-day Lancaster Boulevard and Sierra Highway. He operated this saloon until the disastrous fire of 1912 destroyed his storefront, among several other businesses. He continued various other local business ventures throughout the years, including running a ranch adjacent to Shea's Castle and homesteading 320 acres of land. Robert "Ted" Atmore Jr. (1873 - 1945) was seen as the leader of the local cowboy ring, owning up to 300 cattle at one point. He is known for being a cowboy consultant to Hollywood, offering insights into the life of a cowboy for its big-screen portrayals. He reportedly died of a heart attack, though some claim he was murdered by one of his many Hollywood connections. Harry Butterworth (1864 - 1941) first settled in Rosamond, beginning his cattle-ranching ventures. He served as constable of Lancaster from 1898 to 1902, living at the time in a small two-room house on present-day Lancaster Boulevard. Harry also owned a barn near the old railroad depot, where he housed horses and ponies. Rawley Duntley (1883 - 1962) came to California with his parents as a young child, living in Los Angeles and moving later to the Antelope Valley. In 1910, he purchased land and began his own cattle-ranching endeavors after working in the industry since 1905. "Gurba, Norma H. Lancaster. Arcadia, 2005. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"

Lancaster's first church was the Sacred Heart Catholic Church, established in 1887 by Father Patrick Bannon. James P. Ward had donated the land for the church, with all parishioners participating in its construction. Construction began in 1886 and was completed in 1890. Originally it was built to seat 150 people. Before the construction of this church, the Antelope Valley was served by priests from San Buenaventura Mission in Ventura throughout the 1870s. Father Bannon was pastor at St. Malachy's in Tehachapi during the 1880s, making frequent trips to Lancaster to celebrate Mass, eventually leading to the establishment of the Sacred Heart Church. Several other pastors also served at Sacred Heart Church in the 1890s and 1900s. Father Joseph Wanner served as a pastor in 1907 while he lived at St. Malachy's, and Father John Meehan was named as pastor in 1916, eventually moving into the rectory built next to the church. Sacred Heart saw a series of different priests and pastors from 1921-1928 until Father Charles Kennedy was named as pastor in 1928. He would serve the Sacred Heart Church for 40 years until he died in 1968. Sacred Heart Church held their first barbecue event in August of 1932, open to Catholics and non-Catholics alike. The barbecue quickly became a communal tradition that is still celebrated today, with this year's event being the church's 85th annual barbecue. In 1936 the church was enlarged to accommodate it's growing parish and was in use until 1956. On October 28, 1956, a new larger church building was opened and still remains in use. "Gurba, Norma H. Lancaster. Arcadia, 2005. Photo courtesy of MOAH Collections"