Trade Street is the Arts District’s equivalent to Main Street, and the intersection of 6th & Trade is its hub, its Grand Central Station, its Agora.
On Saturday, despite the 100-degree heat, Trade Street became a huge exhibition hall, a gallery of shiny, gleeming metal sculpture.
I’ve never been a car person. But I can enjoy looking at these machines as works of art and design, jazzing up the Arts District with all kinds of odd shapes and colors. Bold color, sleek line, gleeming chrome. Then there are the country-bumpkin types, chunky little pick-up trucks with varying shades of rust, funky window stickers,