Sacrilege with a coat of paint

LAST WEEK, artist Kent Twitchell's six-story mural, "Ed Ruscha Monument," which for over 20 years covered the side of a building in downtown L.A., was mysteriously painted over. Public reaction has ranged from shock to outrage to sorrow. Times' art critic Christopher Knight compared the news to "hearing of the unexpected death of a casual friend. I've been bouncing around various stages of grief -- denial, bargaining, depression -- with acceptance nowhere in sight."

Though we're often loath to admit it, deaths have a way of turning us into shrewd appraisers. Why, we wonder, did one person die rather than another? How can we possibly make sense of a world in which, on any given day, young, kindhearted people die of diseases and severe injuries while countless scumbags continue to live? Such is the case with this mural tragedy.

With so many eyesores in Los Angeles that we'd love to see obliterated, why did we lose something that's not only a celebrated work of art but also depicts a celebrated artist (Ruscha, a longtime Angeleno, is considered by some critics as influential as Andy Warhol and Donald Judd)? If only the elusive wielder of this giant roller brush could have tackled those kiddie-porn ads for American Apparel.

We don't yet know who's responsible for this defacement (although if a six-story advertisement for "The Break-Up" suddenly appears on the building, we might get an inkling). Even when the culprit is revealed, it's likely we still won't entirely understand his or her motivations. That's because if there's anything more confounding than universal healthcare or the story lines of "Deadwood," it's the nature of art -- namely what it is, who decides and, alas, how many people really care?

Though Twitchell is a prominent and respected artist, there's no denying that public art has a bad reputation. That's because much of it \o7is\f7 very, very bad. "Community art" conjures images of sterile, abstract sculptures, life-size statues of multiethnic folks waiting for the bus, or murals that suggest Malcolm X was actually a member of Pink Floyd.

Of course, those examples make for a grossly unfair generalization. Yes, plenty of cities purchase pre-made statues and memorials from foundries, but the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is also public art, as is some of the work of Richard Serra and Christo, though Christo doesn't accept government funding.