Last Friday I came briefly to my senses. I turned off my computer and powered off my iPhone. I went home, and loaded camping gear, wife and son into our car for a spontaneous trip to the desert. Four hours after leaving Los Angeles we arrived at the entrance to the Mojave State Preserve, and driving 30 miles further into its desolate middle-of-nowhere, we found a remote campsite. We set up our tent, ate dinner, and after some stargazing, we went to sleep. Drifting off to sleep I was slightly irritable. The sudden silent disconnect had been disorienting.

Digital communication is swell, but I think posters are the purest and most exciting expression of graphic design. From the poster for the multi-gazillion dollar Disney Air Bud franchise to posters for my friend’s bands, this is the one design form I often do for fun, and sometimes for free if I believe in the cause…

It’s an incredible, thrilling, twisty lonely 250 mile motorcycle ride on old Highway 3 from Ferndale on the Humbolt Coast to Yreka in Siskiyou County. Halfway between Weaverville and Yreka is the dying lumber, mining and ranching town of Callahan. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it. It’s not a ghost town yet because the little general store is still opened sometimes. Farrington’s Store (since 1860) was open, so I stopped for a soda and chatted with an old-timer who told some good stories. The Callahan Ranch Hotel was opened in 1854. He said it has been abandoned pretty much forever, although every once in a while somebody passing through says they want to buy it and fix it up, but “why the hell would anybody want to come and stay in a hotel in Callahan?” The dimensional lettering on the facade is remarkably well preserved considering the condition of the rest of the building. The dimensional lettering is really unusual: it’s painted with an above-looking-down perspective although the viewer sees the sign from below looking up. It’s a bit disorienting… kind of like the town itself.

Beverly Boulevard in Los Angeles between Western Ave and 1rst has always been a quirky living outdoor gallery of odd hand-painted signs. This stretch of Beverly was a center of Los Angeles nightlife during the thirties (so an old guy once told me), but the riots of the early 1990′s weren’t kind to the neighborhood. It’s been more than rough around the edges for as long as I’ve been passing through. Between 2000 and 2004 I had a second-floor walk-up studio above a store front-church and bodega that sold magic potions to ward off hexes, Virgin de Guadalupe statuettes, and international phone cards. Here’s a record of one early Sunday morning walk ten years ago. Most of these signs are gone now, but painted over with newer versions of the old themes.

I have the answers to all your questions (at least the ones posed above).

Tony Nik was actually Antonio Nicco, my grandfather. When prohibition was repealed in 1933, he and my grandmother opened Tony Nicco’s Cafe. Previously, that was the site for Madame Nicco’s French Laundry.

The sign you see is the original sign. My grandfather ran the bar until 1950, when he sold it to longtime friend and fellow bartender Charles “Butch” Lavagnino. Butch changed the name to Tony Nik’s – hence the painting over the original “Nicco’s” (you can almost see it on close inpection) to change it to Nik’s.

Well, that’s it for Tony Nik’s for beginners. If you have other questions, please contact me. Thank you for your interest.

Mark Nicco.

The name Monkey Pete comes from an underground puppet theater that I ran from 1998 until about 2004. Monkey Pete’s Puppet Theater sowed anarchy at clubs, bars, and galleries in Los Angeles and San Francisco. Part of the Monkey Pete experience included a carnival atmosphere, and half the fun of producing the shows was painting carnival side-show banners and signs to enhance the audience experience. Click to read an article about Monkey Pete that appeared in the Los Angeles Time Sunday Magazine way back in 1999.

Just rambling through Chinatown, North Beach, The Tenderloin…