Supporters of Self Help Graphics, the historic East L.A. arts center, got a little sanctimonious last week when they learned that the building they had occupied rent-free for decades had been sold by their landlord and longtime benefactors, the Sisters of St. Francis.
How could those nuns pull the rug out from under them like that, without notice? The art agency's board president, Armando Duron, even suggested that the leader of the Catholic order should go to confession for the alleged duplicity.
Now it's time for Self Help to examine its own conscience. Because while the sisters might have been more upfront about the sale to a private developer, Self Help has not been free of sin. It contributed to its current predicament over the years through poor management and board blunders that sabotaged pending grants that could have helped it acquire the building before all this happened.
"There was tremendous opportunity there to do great things, to take chances, to involve a whole new generation of creative artists, but that really didn't happen," says former artistic director Gustavo Leclerc, who left in the midst of turmoil in 2005. "There was no direction. There was never really a vision that will excite the people."
The challenge now is whether this once vital organization can find -- and sustain -- renewed purpose in a climate dramatically different from when it was created. Its future will depend on its ability to adapt, and its survival could serve as a lesson for all struggling nonprofits in the arts world.
The sad thing is that Self Help had actually started to recover in recent months, both financially and artistically, when it was again derailed by the sale of its colorful, iconic building on Cesar Chavez Avenue. But it's hard to think of the nuns as the bad guys after they had devoted 30 years in support of the nonprofit, founded by the late Sister Karen Boccalero to foster the arts in the Chicano community.
Self Help was a child of the '60s, an era of community activism and political fervor that inspired artists and others to volunteer in droves, even to sweep the floors. Once the spirit of that era dissipated -- symbolized by the death of Sister Karen 11 years ago -- it was as if Self Help had to go on life support.
"She was dealing with a time and place where being very grass-roots and organic, you could survive," says Tomas Benitez, who took over as executive director after the founder's death in 1997. "It's to Sister Karen's credit, and to the artists, that there was such an esprit de corps. We just weren't able to sustain the collective spirit."
Well, who did? As '60s idealism faded, many Chicano artists didn't want to be called "Chicano" anymore, unless it meant a chance to exhibit at LACMA. Some art schools started teaching that print-making, a Self Help specialty, was passe, notes Benitez. And as a new generation of artists found more opportunities, Self Help lost its raison d'etre as the only place that would show their work.
But progress doesn't mean groups like Self Help are irrelevant, says artist Vincent Valdez, whose latest work is part of the Cheech Marin exhibition at LACMA. He got his start at San Antonio's Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center when he was 10 and had his first showing in L.A. at Self Help, where he recently contributed work for its annual print sale.
"Yes, things evolve and people move on," says Valdez, 30. "But the thing that shouldn't be overlooked is that not everybody gets to go to art school or show at galleries. . . . Nowadays, we're in the process of seeing the extinction of these community institutions, and I really do think it's a big loss."
The roots of Self Help's problems go back at least four years, when the agency was dealing with shrinking budgets and a crumbling building. Its darkest hour came on June 7, 2005, when the board, faced with risky conditions and unpaid insurance bills, suddenly decided to padlock the building. The surprise move shut out angry artists and even Benitez, who was blamed for many of the problems.
The chaos was costly. That very week, representatives of the Ford Foundation were scheduled to make a site visit as part of their review of a major grant application the agency had submitted. Leclerc says Self Help was a finalist for funding in Ford's Artography program, aimed at groups doing exemplary work in diverse communities. With the building closed, the meetings had to be moved and Self Help didn't get the grant.
"It was the perfect-storm syndrome," says Leclerc, who teaches architecture at Woodbury University. "Everything went wrong at that particular moment."
The nuns, based near San Francisco, learned about the closing of their building from a story in The Times, says Sister Carol Snyder, the provincial minister. That lack of communication signaled a growing strain in the relationship between the agency and the order.
Subsequent efforts to save Self Help didn't help inspire confidence among the nuns either.
