And finally, the NoHo arts scene has become, at the very least, a real scene, with bookstores and magazine racks and coffeehouses, supporting a network of theaters, large and small, peppered around Lankershim and Magnolia, near the Red Line's final destination.
And what does all this mean? L.A. is a city of cultural migrants that keeps rebuilding itself, so that almost nobody remembers what went before. The only constant is rising rents. Theater artists here do inspired work on tiny stages, sometimes supported by Industry employment, often not, until they grow tired of it all and move on. Of course, the coming and going is true of many cities, but there's more reconstruction here — city blocks whose faces change with every decade. L.A.'s cultural amnesia allows considerable good work to be born of ignorant bliss, though the same could be said of the bad work. All of which renders us theater enthusiasts ticket holders for a train whose destination is always in flux, and whose tracks are perpetually being relaid. All aboard. Exit Stage Left, Slowly Gordon Davidson and the changing of the guard by Steven Leigh MorrisBad Heart, Plenty of Guts Ron Sossi, and his enduring Odyssey by Steven Leigh Morris Tough Act to Follow The rise and fall, and rise, of theater of color by Erin Aubry Kaplan Let There Be Lights A quarter-century of changes in a lighting booth by Steven MikulanIn Memoriam: Raye Creevey by Steven Leigh Morris