The Rockstars of Art Open Their Doors

Brewery Artwalk

A horse built out of scrap metal greets visitors to the Brewery View Slideshow >

By Jason O. Silva

A steed sculpted from scrap metal faces the exit ramp from the 5-Freeway to Main Street. Behind it is an old brewery, looming and seemingly abandoned. I stand on the outskirts of this campus, wondering where everyone is. The parking lots are full, the lights are on, but while the whoosh of the freeway is a constant reminder of L.A.'s urban sprawl, here, there's not a soul in sight.

I proceed through a narrow driveway, between buildings of brick and glass. At the back of the leftmost structure is an open cargo bay. A table sits on the dock and on top of it, a man paints a dragonhead the size of a Prius. I breathe a little easier. Around the corner I see another man waving at me. That man is Mikie Pedersen -- professional artist, photographer, and illustrator. He greets me with a warm smile and a firm handshake. At first glance, he doesn't look like an artist; he looks more like the lead guitarist in a rock band. "Come on," he says, "I'll show you my place."

He points across the common area to a massive building covered in windows. "Fourth one down on the top -- that's where we used to be. Now, we're here. Pardon the mess." We step inside a spacious loft. Aside from a broad wooden desk and the two walls where art is displayed, the space is stripped bare. "We're renovating," Mikie tells me. "Two ladies lived here for sixteen years with a dog, and it was a real…" he changes directions, "it wasn't well-kept."

We sit down to talk about art, his art, because April 17th to the 18th is The Brewery Art Walk, one of only two times a year the campus opens its doors to the public. But we don't get into it yet. Mikie stands. "Do you want the fifty-cent tour? You gotta have that before we start."

We cross back over the common area, walk between several buildings, and pass a graveyard of steel freight containers and a curving railroad track. The place is a wondrous stamp of the age of industry. Mikie shares some Brewery history while winding me through a maze of alleyways, hallways, and stairwells. In its previous life it was a brewery for Pabst Blue Ribbon, but in 1982 it was converted into a colony for artists-in-residence (it may be the largest of its kind in the world).

We stop in the vast courtyard of what must be over forty units. "This is the solarium," he tells me, "Most people never see this. They get overwhelmed with the size of the complex. You're not afraid of a catwalk are you? That's another place people usually never make it."

I'm horrified of catwalks, but I go because I don't want to miss a thing. And I'm glad I do -- there's a spectacular view of downtown Los Angeles. And on the other end of the catwalk is a penthouse loft with a rooftop garden and a 360-degree view of the city. It's breathtaking.

On the way back, we pass the dragonhead guy. "Those guys compete on Garage Wars a lot," says Mikie. "I was trying to work one day and kept hearing this vrooooorr sound. It was quiet for a while, then it happened again. Finally, I stepped out to see what the commotion was, and those guys were out in the road with a jet engine, lighting it off. They're crazy! They built a six-foot tall mechanical spider one day and walked it through the campus."

On the way back to Mikie's gallery, I realize the Brewery is its own world, operating by its own rules. The campus is not so desolate as I once imagined: A group of artists are taking a lunch break behind a vine-draped rail. A sculptor paints a reclaimed bathtub for an installation piece. The mechanical sounds of wood shops and metal shops permeate the air. Someone yells for Mikie from a second-story window.

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