by Abel M. Salas Pete Placencia, Garfield Class of '59,visits City Hall &  Roybal in the early '60s. It’s late Wednesday afternoon in Highland Park. Inside an art gallery sitting squarely in the center of the hipper, trendier-then-thou section of York Blvd. near new restaurants, bars stocked with craft beer, boutiques and design studios, a small group of middle-aged artists has gathered. Some have come with their wives. Among them are Leo Limón , Wayne Healy , David Botello , Robert “Tito” Delgado , J. Michael Walker , who greet each other politely and quietly explore the new venue, exuding the excitement and energy of kids at Christmas. They are familiar, highly regarded, almost stellar figures within LA’s now glimmering constellation of Chicano and Latino art. They are elder statesmen, if you will, accomplished visual artists who, at a pivotal moment in the last century, were themselves restless youth on the leading edge of an art movement launched amidst social an

Interview by Marcella Haro Physically, chef and business owner Aaron Pérez is a big guy (in the food business this lends credibility to chefs, as if they know food, and their bodies can be submitted for evidence), but he also smiles big and has these signature glasses that cover a good third of his face. It’s not just physical, though. He thinks big, too, and his dreams... well, think of a flash card with the three-letter word. I first tasted his now legendary Vaka Burger when they were posted up at Tested LA in Glassell Park. There’s nothing I love having food delivered but also love being able to put on my chanclas and walk to get something tasty. The place was packed; there was a long line, and I saw familiar yuppie faces, the same people I run into at open houses from time to time, happily eating $12 burgers with organic toppings alongside fries that smelled like garlic and home equity.  I started following their Instagram because they had a photo up of my fake husband Anthon