last year

Not only is Betye Saar a living legend, but the prolific L.A. artist continues to add to her impressive oeuvre day by day.

She’s been creating powerful, thought-provoking artwork since the ’60s and her pieces have been shown at the Smithsonian, the Museum of Modern Art, the Art Institute of Chicago and LACMA, as well as museums and galleries around the world.

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

As her centennial birthday approaches this July, Saar shows no signs of slowing down. She still routinely creates art and continues to garner headlines and accolades. Last year, she was honored with the distinction of “Icon Artist” at the Art Basel Awards. During the upcoming Frieze Los Angeles art festival, which opens Feb. 26, she will be the subject of the photography installation “Betye Saar Altered Polaroids.” And this May, “Let’s Get It On: The Wearable Art of Betye Saar” will debut at Roberts Projects, the gallery that represents her. The exhibition will feature pieces from her early career as a costume and jewelry designer.

Though she’s skilled at painting and photography, she’s most widely known for assemblage, the art of juxtaposing miscellaneous items to form a single cohesive work. Her dioramas, sculptures and large-scale multimedia installations explore the legacy of American slavery, confront racial injustice and celebrate the strength and resiliency of African American women.

“I work with found objects that had another purpose before they came to my hands,” Saar says while seated at a patio table in her succulent-filled tiered garden. “The hardest part of it is going to a flea market, secondhand stores, an estate sale or even just going behind a store to see what people throw away.”

Over the years, she’s traveled by plane, train and automobile in search of usable materials. Meanwhile, admirers, colleagues and gallery workers have sent her curios from New Mexico, Tennessee, New England and beyond. Her daughters — artists Alison and Lezley, and writer Tracye, their mother’s studio director — also stay on the lookout for objects that might catch her eye.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, so I have quite a collection,” she says.

Indeed, Saar’s multi-level home studio in Laurel Canyon is bursting with dozens of old empty picture frames, discarded window panes, wooden chests, antique chairs and vintage clocks. But there’s always room for more.

Her idea of a perfect Sunday includes foraging for new items (or old ones, as the case may be) to use in her daily art practice. And she’d return to her roots to do it.

“Pasadena is my hometown and I still have a few relatives that live there,” she says.

While visiting her old stomping grounds, she’d embark on a multi-stop shopping spree and wander through a longtime favorite San Gabriel Valley attraction (where her work just so happens to be on display).

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.

10 a.m.: Search for hidden treasures

Pasadena Community College Flea Market is something that’s part of “the hunt.” Alison usually drives, sometimes Tracye. Some people are there early to get the deals; we’re not like that anymore. I like to look around and sometimes I find interesting fabrics, scarves to wear and strange-shaped succulents for my garden. I hardly ever find really good antiquing things there, because those are at antique stores and they’re usually pretty pricey. But I bought an old, rusty metal birdcage the seller said was from France. I like rusty stuff for my art. I also found an indigo blue kimono to wear at an art event later this year.

1 p.m.: Replenish with Thai food

I’d go down Fair Oaks Avenue — there’s some secondhand stores. Usually, it’s nothing I can use, but I still can’t say no. I have to go see for myself. Then, lunch at Saladang Garden. I always order chicken sate and the green papaya salad. Last time I went, we tried the Thai corn fritter which was really good and crispy. If food is too spicy, I can’t eat it. But somebody in my party would always have something spicy and I can have a spoonful to add to mine.

2:30 p.m.: More shopping

I am attracted to all the odd things at Gold Bug. Notepads and trinkets, curious vintage-y things with animals or interesting patterns, strange candles. Sometimes I surprise myself by buying something. They have a mixture of things that — whether it’s for the color, or the texture — I feel that I can recycle and fit into an art object that I’m making.

3:30 p.m.: Visit a childhood haunt (with a side of more shopping)

I really like the Huntington’s gardens. I remember the first time I went there was with my mother and a friend of hers, and we walked around. All the paths were dirt, you know, they hadn’t even gotten around to paving it yet. But I just fell in love with it. And I really like their gift shop.

6 p.m.: Head west for a culinary classic

If I go someplace to eat for lunch, I usually have leftovers to warm up. Nothing wrong with leftovers — if you liked it the first time, you’ll like it again! But if I had to go out to dinner, the Apple Pan. I would go there in the ’80s with my daughters. I like their sandwiches, or the hickory burger with cheese, and there’s good French fries.

8 p.m.: Tuck into some wind-down watching

Before bed, I like to watch the news because, otherwise, I don’t know what’s going on. I also like a lot of shows on PBS. “Finding Your Roots,” or dramas like “Sister Boniface Mysteries” and “Call the Midwife,” which has been going on forever!

Stepping into Jr. Market boutique in Highland Park is like entering a 1980s time warp. Built into a refurbished shipping container, it’s filled with everything from tiny Walkman-style portables to colorful, number-flip clock radios and, naturally, boomboxes of all sizes. Few are more imposing than the TV the Searcher, a Sharp boombox from the early ‘80s that features a built-in, 5-inch color television.

“Try lifting it, it’s really heavy,” warns Spencer Richardson, the shop’s owner. Indeed, the machine is at least 15 pounds without the 10 D batteries that power the unit. He adds, “I don’t think you’re taking this to the beach so you could watch TV while you listen to music.”

An affable, hyper-knowledgeable proprietor in his early 30s, Richardson repairs and resells analog music technology from the 1980s or earlier. In bringing these rehabbed players back into circulation, he’s helping others rediscover a musical format once left for dead. While his hobby-turned-side hustle started as “a gateway to discover sounds” that he otherwise would not have heard, it now attracts curious customers willing to drop $100-plus for a vintage Technics RS-M2 or My First Sony Walkman. His customers include older baby boomers and Gen X‑ers nostalgic for the players of their childhood, but most have been millennials like himself, drawn to something tactile and analog in an era when everything else disappears into the digital ether.

A rare Technics RS-M2 stereo radio tape deck. “I’ve worked on a lot of tape players and this one shouts quality inside and out,” Richardson writes on Instagram.

(Spencer Richardson)

Unlike turntables, which have become increasingly high-tech thanks to the “vinyl revival” of the last 20 years, almost all cassette players in current production rely on the same, basic tape mechanism from Taiwan, Richardson explains. Though cassette culture is enjoying its own period of rediscovery — albeit on a far smaller scale — he hasn’t seen a market emerge for newly engineered tape decks. And he’s fine with that.

“I’m not one of those people that’s like, ‘Why don’t they make good new tape players?’” he says. “No one needs to make it better. You’re still better off buying a refurbished one from the time when they made them.”

That’s where he steps in.

Richardson works on a Nakamichi tape deck out of his repair studio in downtown L.A.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

It’s easy to forget that when cassettes debuted in the mid-1960s, the technology was groundbreaking. Not only were the players far more portable than turntables but unlike records, tapes were resilient to being tossed about. Even more profoundly, cassettes democratized access to the act of recording itself since cassette technology required minimal infrastructure and cost.

“I think about how incredible it must have been for people to realize they could just put whatever they wanted onto a tape, dub it, give it to a friend,” says Richardson.

Entire genres of music, especially in the developing world, became far more accessible across borders. In some countries, big records are still released on cassette. “I have a Filipino release of Kanye West’s ‘College Dropout’ on tape,” Richardson says.

The constraints of the technology guided the listening experience. Because skipping songs on a player was a hassle, most people sat with cassette albums as a track-by-track, linear journey, the antithesis to the algorithmic, shuffle-centric playlists ubiquitous on today’s streaming platforms. It’s a pace that Richardson appreciates.

“I want things to be intentional and slow,” he says. “I don’t need them to be optimized.”

He learned how to repair gear by watching YouTube videos, perusing old manuals and through trial and error.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Born in the early 1990s, Richardson grew up in Santa Monica and the Pacific Palisades, where his mother’s home was lost in the L.A. wildfires last year. He’s just old enough to remember cassettes as a child: “My mom had books on tape like ‘Winnie the Pooh,’ but I wasn’t out buying tapes.” Fast forward to the mid-2010s and he was working at the now-defunct Touch Vinyl in West L.A. “Back in 2014, we started this little in-store tape label,” he explained. “Bands would come to play, and we’d duplicate 10 tapes and give them away or sell them.” Richardson slowly began collecting cassettes but after the store closed a few years later, he realized how hard it was to find people to service his tape players.

Finally, once the pandemic hit in 2020 and everyone was stuck at home, he decided to learn how to repair his gear by watching YouTube.“I was just fascinated by the videos, absorbing soldering techniques and tools you might need,” he said. With no formal engineering background, Richardson began collecting information online, perusing old manuals, learning through trial and error. “You just need to get your hands in there and be like, ‘Oh, OK, I see how this works,’ or maybe I don’t see how this works, and I’m just going to bang my head against the wall, and then a year later, try again.” His first successful repair was for his Teac CX-311, a compact stereo cassette player/recorder that he still owns. “It has some quirks but runs well.”

A few years later, Richardson’s girlfriend, Faith, suggested he start selling his players online via an Instagram account — jrmarket.radio — originally created for a short-lived internet station. Tim Mahoney, his childhood friend and a professional photographer, shot the units against a plain white backdrop, as if for an art catalog. A community of enthusiasts quickly found his account and Richardson began selling pieces online and via pop-ups. In 2024, the owners of vintage clothing store the Bearded Beagle invited him to take over the parking lot space behind their new location on Figueroa St. Opening a brick-and-mortar store hadn’t been his ambition but Richardson accepted the opportunity: “I never envisioned opening my own physical store. It’s hard enough to have a retail space in Los Angeles to sell something that’s very niche.”

Jr. Market operates as a shop Thursday through Saturday in Highland Park.

(Spencer Richardson)

Jr. Market — whose name is inspired by Japanese convenience stores known as “junior markets” — isn’t trying to appeal to audiophiles though Richardson does stock studio-quality recording decks. He primarily looks for players with appealing visual design, most of them made in Japan where Richardson has been traveling to since graduating high school. Through those trips, he’s learned where to source pristinely-kept gear, including his best-selling Corocasse: a bright red plastic cube of a radio/tape player, introduced by National in 1983. He also keeps an eye out for the unique Sanyo MR-QF4 from 1979, an elongated boombox with four speakers, designed to play either horizontally or flipped into a vertical tower.

The store also stocks a small selection of portable record players, including a Viktor PK-2, a whimsical, plastic-bodied three-in-one turntable, tape player and AM radio that looks like something designed by a modernist artist for Fisher-Price. That went to local author and historian Sam Sweet, who visited the store with no intention of buying anything and left with the Viktor, which now sits on his writing desk. “Spencer’s part of a grand tradition of workshop tinkerers and specialty mechanics,” Sweet says. “The refurbished devices he sells are as much a reflection of his ethos and expertise as they are treasures of the past.”

Last year, Imma Almourzaeva, an Echo Park art director, came to the store and purchased a massive 1979 Sony “Zilba’p” boombox, which is nearly 2 feet wide and over a foot tall, with wood veneer panels to boot. Almourzaeva, who grew up in Russia in the ‘90s, wanted a player that offered “the tactile feel of my childhood and bringing it back into my daily routine, something familiar, something warm.” The Zilba’p is the largest boombox Richardson has carried and Almourzaeva said, “It’s aesthetically a showstopper. Maybe I have a Napoleon complex because I’m pretty small too. It’s like ‘go big or go home’ for me.” She shared that she recently bought a Soviet-era boombox from Richardson for her brother for Christmas. “It turned out my mom grew up using the same brand of stereo,” Almourzaeva says. Richardson had told her that Soviet boomboxes are “very DIY, more funky and finicky.”

Refurbishment is one of Richardson’s specialties, including repairing customer units, each of them a puzzle he enjoys solving. No matter if a player is sparse or feature-packed, the simple act of playing a cassette creates a sense of calm and focus for him. “You’re not distracted, because it doesn’t do anything else,” he says. In a time where every “smart” device is marketed with dizzying arrays of features, that simplicity can feel downright revolutionary.

The Los Angeles County District Attorney is investigating whether Southern California Edison should be criminally prosecuted for its actions in last year’s devastating Eaton wildfire, which killed 19 people and left thousands of families homeless, the company said Wednesday.

Pedro Pizarro, chief executive of Edison International, told Wall Street analysts during an afternoon conference call that the company was cooperating with the District Attorney’s office. He said he didn’t know the magnitude of the investigation.

The company said in its annual 10-K report, which was released Wednesday, that it “could be subject to material fines, penalties, or restitution” if the investigation “determined that it failed to comply with applicable laws and regulations.”

“SCE is not aware of any basis for felony liability with regards to the Eaton Fire,” the report said. “Any fines and penalties incurred in connection with the Eaton Fire will not be recoverable from insurance, from the Wildfire Fund, or through electric rates.”

The District Attorney’s office declined to comment.

The investigation into the fire, which destroyed a wide swath of Altadena, has not yet been released. Pizarro has said that a leading theory of the fire’s cause is that a century-old transmission line in Eaton Canyon, which had not carried power for 50 years, somehow re-energized and sparked the fire.

Edison executives have said they didn’t remove the line because they believed it would be used in the future.

Company executives knew idle transmission lines could spark wildfires. In 2019, investigators traced the Kincade fire in Sonoma County, which destroyed 374 homes and other structures, to a transmission line owned by Pacific Gas & Electric that was no longer in service.

The Times reported in December how Edison fell behind in maintenance of its transmission system before the fire.

Despite the dangerous Santa Ana wind conditions on Jan. 7, 2025, Edison decided not to shut down the transmission lines running through Eaton Canyon. Pizarro has said the winds that night didn’t meet the company’s threshold at the time for turning off the lines.

Pizarro told investors on the call Wednesday that he continued to believe that the company had acted as a “reasonable utility operator” before the deadly fire.

Under state law, if a utility is determined to have acted reasonably it can be reimbursed for all or most of the damages of the fire by a state wildfire fund.