East of the Salton Sea, past the small town of Niland, exists an outpost called Slab City. Some call Slab City an off-the-grid haven for artists, snowbirds, and modern nomads. Others see it as a den of homelessness and drug use.
I felt deeply ambivalent about visiting: I wanted to see the no-boundaries art created out in the desert, but I didn’t want to be a voyeur. So, I decided to visit East Jesus and Salvation Mountain, both are Slab City adjacent, but market themselves as open to the public. From Bombay Beach, I set my map app to East Jesus and set out.
Salvation Mountain
When you take Beal Road out of Niland, you cross the railroad tracks and drive through a lot of nothing. Eventually you start to see signs that implore visitors to respect Slab City, and then Salvation Mountain comes into view. You can’t miss it: it’s 50 feet tall, over 150 feet wide, and as bright as can be in the desert sun.
Leonard Knight dedicated several decades of his life to constructing Salvation Mountain, his ode to God’s love. His first attempt, made of concrete, collapsed, but he was not deterred.
The mountain fits in with the ethos of Slab City: the current version of the mountain is made of locally sourced adobe clay and donated paint and, when Knight could no longer maintain it, he turned it into a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and left it open to the public for no charge.
When I visited, a young man in a docent vest hung out at the bottom, letting people know where they could climb up (on the yellow brick road), and offering stickers and letting people know where to drop donations if they felt so inclined.
As instructed, I climbed the yellow brick road (it as more slippery than I imagined!) and marveled at the time and effort it took to create this mountainous work of art. Another tourist in front of me seemed quite intent on getting a certain photo, so I passed her. A group of very-pierced teens sat beneath the cross singing in harmony. It is truly public art.
I was struck, at the top, at how Knight created this art in the middle of the empty desert. What did Knight see here that he wanted to build right here? (In fact, he first wanted to create a hot air balloon to proclaim his faith, but eventually decided to build a mountain instead.) The view from the top makes the mountain feel that much more impressive. In all of this nothing, Knight imagined something grand.
East Jesus: An apt name for the most “far out” museum I’ve ever visited
East Jesus describes itself as “a sprawling 30 acre museum dedicated to large-scale art.” Charlie Russell founded the museum in 2006, after he came to Slab City to work with Leonard Knight and found himself inspired to create his own world of art. East Jesus is now a member of the California Association of Museums and is proud to call itself the only art museum in the Imperial Valley. It’s not only a sprawling, open air museum but a community of artists who live and work on the site, building this constantly changing world of recycled, upcycled, and creative installations.
East Jesus struck me, immediately, as a place where nothing goes to waste. Every item, from the most mundane bottle or old appliance, to the most interesting mannequin or old house, becomes art.
The displays range from the political, to the whimsical, to the ridiculous. But every one requires a closer view. I particularly appreciated the TV screen display.
And could not help but be impressed by how, when painted white, anything can take on a sort of classical vibe.
The dolphin hate was evident in a number of pieces. One could not help giggle at the many ways this artists found to denigrate these sea creatures.
I also love the way the care taken with dilapidated tiny homes. Not only do the artists manage to have the houses fall in on themselves expressively, but the houses are fully furnished and embellished. Note the legs pointing from below.
Every time I turned a corner, I saw something new and interesting. Truly worth a wander, and a donation.
House of Dots
Probably inspired by East Jesus, House of Dots is an art gallery just next door to East Jesus. I had seen signs for it on the road to Niland, so I happily walked through.
House of Dots is less of a sprawling collection of art installation than an assortment of small displays inside old vans and campers. It’s less large scale and more punny. My favorite piece was “Taxidermist Tea.”
To show that things do not have to be large scale to be impactful, I also enjoyed this small display right by the entrance.
Please note, across the street from House of Dots there is a set of trailers where people live. Although people throughout Slab City seemed to accept people coming through and looking around, they did not want to be on display themselves. Right outside these folks’ trailer they had a big, bright sign, “We are not East Jesus, please don’t take pictures of people.”
Slab City: The Last Free Place on Earth
Slab City’s tag line is “The Last Free Place on Earth.” It is off the grid in terms of any municipal services and seems quite unregulated. However, as I was driving out, the two cars that passed me going in were a sheriff’s SUV and a FedEx truck, so not entirely cut off from society either.
(I was also interested to see that East Jesus purchased the land that the museum stands on, so that they could make sure to preserve it. There’s a church, a library, a campground, a shop, and many other “institutions” in Slab City. I don’t know how many are officially set up and how many are squatters but there’s surely a mix).
I felt a great deal of ambivalence visiting Slab City (I didn’t fully realize, as I set out, that visiting East Jesus meant driving right through Slab City). I had read a lot (here, here, here), but still did not know what to expect. Clearly the residents have mixed feelings of their own. Signs and kiosks suggest that they know tourists come through. They ask for love and kindness. I imagine most of the people who come have good intentions, but after reading some reviews online, some folks are definitely scornful. I’m sure others have more evil intent.
I found the folks who chose to live out here both heart-breaking and inspiring. The plots really ranged, from fully curated art exhibits; to carefully cared for homes (RV, yard, art); to dilapidated, burned-out, and frankly gross structures and piles of trash. Mostly, folks seemed to be living their lives the way they wanted. I noticed that even in “yards” with a lot of trash, there were often several table and chair set ups (often several large cable spindles with an assortment of chairs and stools). One could see that gathering and community was important for almost everyone. And, although there was a lot of trash, there was also a sense of a community really using and re-using what they had.
And, while some signs suggested a bit of lawlessness (I mean, isn’t that part of the point of living off the grid?) there were also clear signs that not some lawlessness was simply unacceptable.
Apparently the year-round community here is only a few hundred (120 degree heat with no utilities? I’m surprised it’s that high!) but the winter population can top 1,000. I’m not sure what it was when I was there. But everyone I saw looked engaged and friendly. And all of the art and signs suggested that these are folks who are happy for people to look, but also want to be left to live in love and peace. Glad I saw it and hope I didn’t disturb anyone.
In Los Angeles, when people rail against the homeless population, someone invariably suggests shipping folks out to the desert. Maybe some of these “helpful suggestions” actual refer to Slab City. But what struck me about Slab City is that these folks are incredibly resilient and deliberate. One could not live out here without a good amount of grit and a spirit of helping and being being helped by others. I left feeling like this was the opposite of the last resort solution for homelessness, but actually a very special place.
I left profoundly impressed their these folks’ ability to live on less, re-use, be sustainable, and express themselves. For all the many opinions on their way of life, there’s probably a lot we can all learn from them. In the end, glad I went.