The Rondo: A Community of Oddballs
by Camille Lubach
You might have passed it before. Succulent tendrils weaving in and out of semi-closed shutters, an unnerving doll head peering down from its perch on an ancient wooden ladder – is it an apartment? A bar? A voodoo church?
A conversation with Michael Long, Santa Barbara artist and current tenant of 202 W. Canon Perdido, throws out that last hypothesis. Long is responsible for a large part of what he calls the “eccentric accoutrement” found in the exterior of the building. It turns out curious postulating about the interior is not uncommon. Long admits that he is almost reluctant to explain to passersby what the heck is going on.
Part of the magic of the office/lounge/gallery is its enigma. Nevertheless, Long, together with fellow artists who hold keys to the bewildering alcove, are willing to share some of that magic in celebration of their ten year anniversary as a collective.
The Rondo. In Italian, a rondo signifies “an instrumental composition typically with a refrain recurring four times in the tonic and with three couplets in contrasting keys” (Merriam Webster). After entering a short foyer stuffed with what Long calls a “curated catchall,” the musicological name starts to make sense. The place is pulsing with groovy tunes and creativity. It is not surprising that, in the 60s, the Rondo was a folk music bar.
The Rondo’s incubation began at Elsie’s Tavern, where artsy young folks like Long, Ethan Turpin, Matthew Straka, and Tom Schultz inadvertently connected with Santa Barbara legends like the late Gary Chafe. The Rondo’s evolution from local haunt to artist hangout was spurred by Chafe and his giant portfolio of works.
Chafe’s overflowing folders and shelves demanded a group effort to organize it all. In between hanging (“in every conceivable place,” remembers Long) and categorizing, the roots of the building reemerged in the form of Friday night affairs involving music, Moscow Mules and lively conversations. Long’s love for found objects complemented the many chotskies owned by Chafe, and the curious conglomeration of thrift store taxidermy and artist prints began to transform and expand.
The Knights of the Rondo were born. Each with different interests and aesthetics, the young artists’ deep admiration for Chafe’s body of work inspired their own production. Long with his dioramas, Turpin’s installations, Straka’s photos and Schultz’s collages – the artists thrived in what had become, according to Turpin, an “unofficial fraternal order.”
Long’s dioramas hang above the bar, by the entrance, and behind the infamous “icebreaker”: a functioning toilet just barely enclosed by a thin partition. Regulars at Friday night gatherings don’t bat an eye before popping a squat at the unorthodox commode.
The architectural dream boxes meticulously constructed by Long hold a certain peculiarity and familiarity that is matched by the Rondo. Found objects come into play again, but this time in miniature. Beyond his representations of recurring dreams, Long takes commissions of local haunts like the Blue Owl and the Mercury Lounge.
Long is also responsible for advertising the goings on at the Rondo on his Instagram, and organizing the “Ready to Hang” show at the Community Arts Workshop (C.A.W.) in downtown Santa Barbara.
Ethan Turpin’s hypnotic radial etchings and visceral video installations both thrill and educate viewers on wildfires, climate change, and ocean plastics. Born in Santa Ynez Valley, Turpin has always had a “foot in creativity, foot in firefighting.” In 2013, he startedthe Burn Cycle Project with The SERI Fire team at UCSB’s Bren School of Environmental Science & Management and many other multidisciplinary collaborators and sponsors.
The projections, video games, and other educational material that make up this continuing social and public practice encourage observers to “confront where and how we live,” says Turpin, via “safe simulations.”
For Turpin, the Rondo is a quiet place to work on what he calls “made up institutions” that explore our changing environs.
“It’s so fundamental and intrinsic and old,” says Turpin, regarding fire. “We can’t just classify it as something dangerous or disruptive or beautiful or magical… because it’s bigger than us.”
At the anniversary, you can expect to see a subconscious-inspired watercolor piece by Turpin. While Long’s dioramas reimagine dreamscapes, Turpin’s new piece reflects on the anxieties faced upon awakening in a pandemic-stricken reality. It’s a trip.
Matthew Straka views the Rondo as a third place. Not your house, not your work, but a “harbor for artists off the beaten path.” Straka currently works at the Santa Barbara Botanic Gardens, where he creates space – markedly different from capturing space- with his camera.
Straka’s portfolio is a delightful collection of playful compositions. A cactus in a bathtub, abandoned orange sneakers, and talking flowers (having a rather serious discussion) are just a sneak peek into what the Santa Barbara native shoots with his camera. A self- described collector, Straka is currently using cigar boxes to frame his photographs.
In addition to the ornate vintage boxes, the artist admits to an accumulation of paraphernalia in his corner of the Rondo.
“A lot of people think that we curate in bad taste,” Straka laughs as he explains how visitors often bring “gifts” in the form of, say, a lone antler. His description of the type of folks that frequent the Rondo is both amusing and accurate: “a community of oddballs.”
It is unfair to say that Straka’s designated space in the Rondo is the only area filled to the brim. The Rondo as a whole boasts unexpected and occasionally disquieting ephemera.
Straka explains the mystery behind the decor: “It carries on the tradition of ‘what the hell is going on.’” Perhaps a phrase muttered under your breath as you squint through the doll-head surrounded window.
The final artist in the collective, Tom Schultz, clearly remembers the origins of the Knights of the Rondo. “Gary was a real fixture for that neighborhood and for Old Santa Barbara,” he says. The mountain of cleaning and sorting of Chafe’s work was driven by a shared admiration of the way Chafe lived and breathed art.
Schultz has taken a break from the frenetic art production that takes place on 202 Canon Perdido. However, the ten year anniversary of the Rondo calls for some new collage pieces that he’ll pump out in between managing a family and full-time job.
The October exhibition is set to showcase four very different artists linked by a remarkable piece of real estate and their respect for the late Gary Chafe. See you there.
Cover Image: SBCC art class visiting the Rondo
