It Must Be a Sign

There's been a lot of talk about signs lately, and I don't mean your standard, cliche, 'hey baby, what's your sign,' kinda sign talk...

The ongoing controversy over the fate of the infamous Hollywood sign continues. Some things never change and everyone still wants a piece of Hollywood: ambitious developers seeking to reinvent and profit from all of that raw, undeveloped land looming over the heart of Tinsel town; and land preservationists, hoping to retain a scarce, yet unscathed piece of nature and an iconic symbol of antiquated Hollywood fame & glory.

Most recently, the City Attorney's office has waged war against 27 sign companies and property owners who have illegally erected super graphic signs on the sides of buildings, violating California's Outdoor Advertising Act and the 2009 ban on super graphics in Los Angeles. The convenient timing of the City deciding to seek recompense on this issue now seems transparent given L.A.'s budget crisis, but I am more intrigued by the enduring and fervent outcry from the community over the signs themselves.

Nevermind resentments over whether a property owner should have the right to generate revenue from advertising signage on the site, or whether the signs can be classified 'visual blight,' or what constitutes offensive material to some while not to others. What strikes my interest in this case is the underlying psychology: why does the threat of the loss of one sign and the proliferation of others create the same response of resistance?

I have to boldly conclude the following:

1) We are deeply affected and moved by cultural symbolism and visual cues. It only stands to reason that we should be passionate about the larger impact of what we are visually subjected to on a regular basis.

2) Change makes us uncomfortable. Change is frequent, unpredictable, and never easy, regardless of its outcome, and who really wants to experience discomfort?

Still, our discomfort at the thought of change is bred of fear, so what exactly are we afraid of here??

Maybe it's the notion that with the retirement of the hillside sign, we could be losing one of the last remaining symbols of a classic era. The glitz, glamour, and dignified sexiness of Old Hollywood is taking its final breath within our consciousness, and our memory of a time of redeeming values, morals, honor, class, and quality will eventually drift away like the lingering whiff of a stale cigarette clinging to the faded drapes.

Or maybe it's the fear that we'll soon be inundated by massive and meretricious visual assaults to our nervous systems. Locked in our cars, cracked out on neon sign tracers and lost in a sea of impersonal, yet calculated appeals, designed only to make us want, need, and 'must have,' more. All as part of a systematic campaign to breed a culture of unquestioning, consumerist droids.

These fears, albeit extreme (but sometimes not entirely) are actually quite necessary to our ability as a community to engage in resistance, questioning, and resolution that hopefully leads to balance, equilibrium, and a happy medium that honors the greater good.

Instead of defaulting to the philosophy of 'out with the old' and 'in with the new', it's time to question what's worth saving and why, while forging forward in spite of our fears and remaining committed to defining a future that will be worth preserving when the time comes to rise to its defense.