“It’s a reminder that the land we walk on right now, Oakland, was something else before. It belonged to the Ohlone people, and people don’t think about that or how important it is,” he says.
The font, with feathers spelling out all 21 letters, is the creation of Oakland artist Tre Sorensen. He came up with it when he and Cecaci visited the Oglala Lakota tribe at Wounded Knee Reserve in South Dakota, where one of the tribe members asked him to design letters for a tattoo.
Bordering the phrase is the representation of an Ohlone chief holding a Miwok basket in honor of Cecaci’s friend’s father, a tribe member, who recently passed away. On the right is a woman, another friend of Cecaci’s, Sabina Vargas of the Mexica tribe, engaging in ceremony.
“I’m not scared to tell somebody, ‘Yo, you’re on stolen land, brother, like, it’s not your people’s [land], you feel me, so respect it,’” says the artist.
Honoring Oakland’s fallen graffiti artists
The second panel is dedicated to Oakland’s graffiti culture. The wall consists of over 60 individual tags in various styles, merging and fading into one another in a vibrant interwoven display.
The names at the very top layer of the piece form what Cecaci calls “Heaven’s Spot,” paying respects to well-known Bay Area graffiti writers who passed away in recent years. These late painters include Nautical, 3AYEM, Ghost51, Sern, DIEN, Shrooms, Math and Aneml. The ANGUS tag represents Angus Cloud, who used the moniker for his graffiti work. LUCHO pays respects to Luis Manuel Arguello-Inglis, a San Francisco teenager who was killed at Dolores Park last year.
Below Heaven’s Spot, there is a familiar name rendered in an earth-tone color scheme: Dream, a.k.a. Mike “Dream” Francisco. Dream and his crew, TDK, revolutionized the Bay Area graffiti scene by adding fine art elements to their work and using it to call out atrocities impacting communities of color. Nearly 25 years after his death, Dream’s legacy lives on through his son, Akil Francisco.
“[Graffiti] is just an art form that has been traditionally passed down from so many generations,” says Akil. “It’s really all just deeper than doing art. It all comes back to the friendships, the conversations, the stories.”
The wall features the tags of 50 other artists who have achieved a high level of artistic expertise, manipulating spray paint to create saturation, fine lines and imitations of light patterns. For many, graffiti is a life-long practice, and the stakes of perfecting the craft are high in an artform that’s oftentimes criminalized. Viewers who pay attention to Oakland’s freeway overpasses and train yards might recognize some of the emblems.
“People don’t view graffiti as art, because all you see most of the time is all the quick tags. But go walk the train tracks, you’ll see some of the dopest artwork you’ll see in your lifetime,” Cecaci says. “When I look at the wall, I see people from different walks of life, different backgrounds, different everything, and they’re all here for one common purpose, and that’s to paint graffiti.”
An homage to bike culture
On any warm day in Oakland, groups of mostly young men on ATVs, dirt bikes and motorcycles bring life to the streets with the rumblings of their engines. Sometimes they ride in twos and threes; other times dozens of riders take over the street. Although they may not always wear helmets or follow traffic laws, the way this subculture creates a sense of community is undeniable.
“It’s like a beautiful dance of machines,” says Cecaci. “Seeing so many people from different parts of Oakland, different cliques, different hoods, and they’re all getting along for one common goal, and that’s the joy of the bikes.”
The panel displays an ATV rider in a helmet and hoodie riding past the Fairyland sign, which Cecaci replaced with the words “Ohlone Land.” He says he chose the image because of how bike culture keeps the community together.
“‘Bikes up, guns down’ is important, and it saves a lot of people,” he notes. “Sure people see it as a nuisance, but it’s something that unifies.”
The next tribute to Angus Cloud: a new skate park
Throughout Oakland, Angus Cloud’s image has been immortalized in what feels like every few blocks. While many see the young actor who played Fezco on Euphoria, those who grew up with him see Conor Angus Cloud Hickey — a brother, son, dear friend and multi-talented artist who gave back to his community.
Cecaci and Angus had been best friends since high school. Angus’ mother, Lisa Cloud, played an inspirational role in both of their careers. While some parents told their kids not to paint on the walls, Lisa provided the paint, and Angus invited his friends to join him.
“This fool is the sickest artist I’ve ever met. Like, the things that came out of his mind — he was a fucking dope poet, sick rapper,” he says. “Very talented, interested in the world, curious, and he always said yes.”
Lisa says she never pushed Angus in a particular direction; she just encouraged him to pursue his talents with rigor. “To belong makes you bloom, to fit in you have to wither a bit,” Lisa says. “Above all else, I gave him the permission and encouragement to go to the things that make him bloom.”
Both Cecaci and Lisa have vivid memories of Angus’ tenacious spirit and authenticity. Even through the fame, his nonchalant confidence showed that he was not there to impress, but to be himself and represent Oakland the entire way. When he came home, Lisa says he would buy bags of McDonald’s burgers, cigarettes and lighters to distribute to the unhoused people in the area.
“The public connected with him in a very different way. He meant a lot to them,” Lisa reflects.
The panel displays a 30-foot-tall Angus over the backdrop of Town Park, a skate park in West Oakland that he frequented. There’s a replica of the last piece Angus ever painted, which he made for a friend who passed away known as DIEN.
The Angus mural serves as a precursor for more homages to him to come. Just two blocks away, a plot of land sits barren with plans of a skate park and recreational area for Oakland School for the Arts (OSA), where Angus attended high school. This project, called Cloud Park, is backed by OSA. With the right funding and city approval, OSA Executive Director Mike Oz says they could break ground as soon as this summer. The school is currently organizing a fundraiser showing of Freaky Tales at the Grand Lake Theatre slated for June.
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