Pinky’s uncertain perch as Pillarhenge construction races

Pinky’s future – A beloved pink papier-mache bird, Pinky, has survived years of decay and community outrage at Pillarhenge—an Eagle Rock construction site nicknamed for its stalled colonnade. Now with new development activity underway, the artist behind Pinky says time is runn

By the time morning coffee reached Jonathan Ford’s backyard, he could see the shape he’s grown to treat like a landmark: the pink bird perched atop Pillarhenge, the stalled Eagle Rock site known for the decrepit colonnade at Colorado Boulevard and Holbrook Street.

Pinky belongs to the neighborhood now the way a mural does—through repetition, through fandom, through the simple fact that people point and say, there it is. “It’s iconic,” Ford said, adding that he’s watched the bird’s fame grow even as the site’s future has stayed mired in uncertainty.

For years. construction at the Eagle Rock site—nicknamed after a decrepit colonnade—first stalled in 2008. and the garbage and graffiti accumulated as quickly as the epithets from outraged community members. What looks like blight to many locals has always carried another story. too: one artist’s belief that the tallest pillar at the center of the site—one of 36 pillars—could become a perch for a “big. pink. screeching bird.”.

The artist, who goes by Flod, insists on anonymity. He has said he asked to stay mysterious because, “isn’t it more fun to leave it a mystery?” But the bird’s ongoing survival—and the scramble to keep it from disappearing—has pulled Flod into the open.

Flod built the original sculpture with tomato cages, chicken wire, paper, glue, and pink house paint. “I’m kinda into recycling, so I didn’t even buy materials for it,” he said, recalling that it was supposed to “just give a laugh, maybe last a day.” That was more than a decade ago.

In 2014, Flod’s young adult nephew—adept at climbing—helped hoist a 4-foot, about 10-pound papier-mache Pinky onto the top of a 70-foot pillar. It fit perfectly. Over time, the bird inspired a movement: custom T-shirts, multifarious fan art, an online forum, and a dedicated posse that keeps watch.

Even as Pinky bent, molted, and faded with each turn of the calendar, locals treated its presence as a counterpoint to what they considered an eyesore. But when construction restarted, that familiar routine started to wobble.

Construction resumed on “The One on Colorado,” a six-level, mixed-use development with 31 units. And as the rising work moved around the site’s south side, Pinky’s future became harder to predict.

That uncertainty sharpened in April 2023. Flod had been content to remain unseen while Pinky became a kind of community shorthand—until construction workers removed the disintegrating bird from its eyrie. General contractor Enrique Valdez of Azteca 111 Builder Inc. had been tasked with cutting the ratchet straps securing Pinky. and he appeared to many locals as the end of an era.

Valdez remembers descending from the boom lift when locals stopped him. “A few people stopped and yelled. ‘Don’t take Pinky!’” He said the distressed residents approached him with cellphone videos they’d taken of the removal. They asked if he was going to bring the bird back and showed him the Facebook page.

That page—Goodbye Pillarhenge Park—had become the hub of Pillarhenge lore since 2015. Soon after clips of Pinky’s removal were posted, comments streamed in, including “Sad day for proud bird,” “End of an era,” and “The bird was the best thing about Pillarhenge.”

Valdez deposited Pinky at a warehouse belonging to the site’s owner so the bird wouldn’t end up in the landfill. The site had changed hands multiple times, and the latest owner is Ara Tchaghlassian, founder of retailer American Tire Depot. Valdez says he told Tchaghlassian, “It seems we have a legend on our hands.”.

After stabilizing the hillside, the development team discussed remaking the bird with help from the original artist—except nobody knew who Flod was.

For Annie Choi, who owns Found Coffee across the street from Pillarhenge, the site still carries a double meaning. “People are just done with decades of this ugliness,” she said. “But it also has this weird claim to fame,” she added, describing regulars entering her shop wearing Pinky T-shirts.

Flod’s path back to Pinky began with Valdez’s own search. In May 2023, a documentary filmmaker photographing Pillarhenge for more than eight years met Valdez shortly after construction had restarted. Valdez invited the filmmaker onto a boom lift to photograph the site from above and asked if he knew who had made Pinky. which Valdez had removed just days prior. The filmmaker offered to do sleuthing.

Valdez posted in Goodbye Pillarhenge Park: “Looking for the original artist to refurbish the bird.” He included photos of Pinky headless and forsaken, safe amid piles of overstuffed filing boxes.

Flod, meanwhile, had been lurking in the public group for years, silently watching. When the post finally presented a decision point, he weighed the risk: replying would mean stepping out of the shadow he’d preferred. Instead, he answered via direct messages with “I may know the artist.”

Flod and Valdez arranged to meet at the warehouse, where Flod disclosed his identity. Flod declined compensation and asked only for access to Pillarhenge. Pinky’s carcass then returned home with Flod.

Flod began by removing the rotted skin from the chicken-wire skeleton and repurposed the structure for the next version. He covered it with paint-dipped cloth rather than paper and white glue to better withstand the elements.

His home studio mirrors that commitment. Flod’s exterior is painted the exact shade of pink. and in his yard. multicolored concrete sculptures appear across nearly every nook and cranny. Inside, hand tools, musical instruments, and partially completed papier-mache projects are everywhere. “Mind the points,” Flod cautioned, as the filmmaker maneuvered around an oversize papier-mache mask covered in protruding footlong spikes. “I can’t fix those if they break.”.

Skull masks are a theme in Flod’s work, including one named “Charles E. Fromage.” Pinky also wasn’t Flod’s first attempt at site-specific social commentary. In 2005, he found a truck tire lodged between two boulders in Malibu Creek. He returned with a bag of cement and made a mixture with sand and water from the creekbed. slathering it over the immovable garbage so it appeared to be just one more river rock. He titled the piece “Reinventing the Wheel.” In 2015. he helped create “Stella the Steelhead. ” a 35-foot fish skeleton stuffed full of trash taken from the L.A. River. The collaboration included artists. environmental activists. and volunteers who towed the piece behind an adult tricycle along the river’s bike path.

Pinky’s rebirth after Flod’s restoration did not go unnoticed. Just two months after its rescue, in December 2024, Pinky’s renewed presence was heralded in Eastsider LA as “a Christmas miracle.” A rainstorm soon damaged Pinky’s reinforced cloth wing, and the bird was temporarily removed for repairs.

Around that time, Ford moved near Pillarhenge. One morning, he went out back with his coffee and noticed something pink. “I texted my neighbor and he responded immediately: ‘Pinky’s back!. Oh, thank God, I didn’t know what happened. I love that thing!’” Ford said. “And I just went, So this is normal.”.

Even when Pinky was off its pillar-top nest, the bird found watchers. During Pinky’s broken-wing pit stop. the filmmaker’s 10-year-old daughter Margaret Green and friends Ezra Cunningham and Meta Nalepa encountered the bird in a nearby driveway while delivering their neighborhood newspaper. Flod, a subscriber, acknowledged he was Pinky’s creator. Margaret’s article—“Pink Bird: Eagle Rock Artist Found”—included a rare photo of Pinky away from its pillar-top perch.

In response to being discovered by the grade-school journalists, Flod said, “That was a really cool part of [Pinky’s] story. It definitely means a lot to me. That kind of stuff is the whole thing.”

Now, the situation is shifting again. With construction moving forward—concrete. scaffolding. and rebar rising along the south side of Colorado Boulevard—Pinky is becoming less visible to pedestrians. Another few months could decide whether Pinky remains a pillar-top icon or gets relocated as the site changes shape.

Valdez expects the construction work to finish in about two years and said, “Well, you’ll still be able to see Pinky from the freeway.”

In Goodbye Pillarhenge Park, the anticipation inside the community hasn’t quieted. A member’s recent comment captured what many people may not be ready to admit: “I will miss Pillarhenge.”

The group’s protectiveness has even spread to new details. Recently, a giant egg appeared in a nest atop the pillar beside Pinky’s. “I had nothing to do with that!” Flod insisted. Rumors swirled about what might emerge when the egg hatches. with talk ranging from a life-size bronze statue to a historical landmark plaque.

Valdez said discussions are ongoing about Pinky’s future. “If Pillarhenge is completed and Pinky goes into the lobby or something, that’s all right, I guess,” Flod said, adding, “We need more housing.”

Then he returned to the thing that started it all: the bird as an idea worth protecting. “But I want the bird to win,” Flod said, and the smile in that line suggested the love story may be moving into a new chapter—whether the pink bird keeps its highest perch or not.

Pillarhenge Pinky bird Eagle Rock Los Angeles construction Flod artist Enrique Valdez Goodbye Pillarhenge Park The One on Colorado American Tire Depot Ara Tchaghlassian