Everyone who’s spent time in L.A. knows that the 405 Freeway
(formerly known as the San Diego Freeway) is a necessary evil. If you take it
north from the urban center, it lurches through Sepulveda Pass—where the Getty
Center and other cultural venues await—and descends into the smoggy suburban
sprawl of the San Fernando Valley before moving toward the hinterlands. If you
take it going south, it elbows its way past shopping malls, a cemetery, some
auto dealerships, and Los Angeles International Airport, then trudges toward
Long Beach and (after a long while) San Diego. Whatever the time of day, it’s
generally socked in with rush-hour traffic. We need it, but that doesn’t mean
we like it.
Except, perhaps, for Mindy Alper. Remarkably, she finds
being stuck in L.A. traffic restful. To make sense of this oddball perspective,
it helps to understand that Mindy, now age 56, has an acute mental disorder
that requires her to gulp down dozens of pills each day. At times she’s been
committed to mental institutions; she has undergone shock therapy and spent one
entire decade without speaking. It sounds as though she’s depressing to be
around, but this is far from true. Late-in-life documentary filmmaker Frank
Stiefel (a former executive in charge of
TV commercials) made a short film about Mindy that toured the festival circuit
in 2017, to loud acclaim. Earlier this year, Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405 (its title comes from one of
Mindy’s on-camera musings) was awarded the Oscar for Best Documentary Short
Subject. I was lucky enough to see it at a screening at which both Frank and
Mindy were present. It’s clear that Mindy’s deep, familial trust in Frank made
this enchanting film possible. In person, she’s articulate and funny. And, as
we learn from the film, an extraordinary talent.
Frank Stiefel found out about Mindy when his wife enrolled
in an art workshop led by a particularly sensitive and encouraging instructor.
Frank’s wife would come home with stories about a most unusual woman, someone
who didn’t socialize with the others but displayed remarkable artistic
abilities in a number of media. She could draw sharp, funny, highly incisive
sketches that hinted at the turmoil within her. She also showed a gift for
giant papier-mȃché sculptures that capture the souls of the people in her life.
As a human being she continued (and still continues) to face major demons, but
her artwork was good enough to earn her a showing at the highly-respected
Rosamund Felsen Gallery in 2007. Felsen still represents her today.
Stiefel’s film gently probes the mysteries of Alper’s
formative years. Her mother (still alive and interviewed on-camera) was loving,
though somewhat baffled by her difficult daughter. Her father, who appears in
Mindy’s drawings as a powerful, terrifying figure capable of sucking out her
essence, seems never to have accepted what she was going through. (The film
allows the viewer to wonder how much he was responsible for her downward spiral,
but by now she has found a path to forgiveness.) Vital figures like supportive
teachers and therapists loom large in her art, as in her life, represented by
huge three-dimensional portrait busts that are awe-inspiring in their
complexity.
Oscar-nominated documentaries tend to be about grim subjects
like drug abuse, racism, and war. The wonderful thing about Heaven is a Traffic Jam On
The 405 is that it shows that even the gravest physical and
psychological problems can be overcome, thanks to a combination of skill, will,
and love. And, of course, the healing power of art.
And here's a photo of Mindy from a recent L.A. Times profile |
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