If you’ve been near lower High Street in Oakland over the past few weeks, you may have noticed something beautiful taking shape: a large, colorful mural featuring Oakland’s Souls of Mischief.
The mural, which covers artist studio collective Faultline Artspace, spans parts of two city blocks and features portraits of all four members of the East Oakland hip-hop group. On the High Street side, Opio appears in a setting dotted with sunstars, flowers, and birds against a multi-hued sky. Next to him, Tajai gazes out at viewers amidst a backdrop of urban buildings, geometrical shapes, and the Hiero sigil imposed over a sunset cityscape
On the Watting Street side, Phesto Dee taps the side of his head with one hand while the other points outward, his figure partially obscuring what looks like an African mask with a speaker cone for an eye. Nearby is A-Plus, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture in front of flowers and abstract disks. The combination of these images suggests a spiritual aspect of hip-hop you never knew existed.
The vibrant painting, created by artists based out of Faultline, is nestled in a working-class, industrial part of the Fruitvale District. It’s a neighborhood whose environmental landscape has historically been defined by nondescript buildings: auto parts stores, an OUSD facility and a lumber company coexist with numerous warehouses and live-work spaces.
Now, the mural nods to a lesser-known element of the neighborhood’s history. Quiet as it’s kept, lower High Street has long been home to a vibrant artist community working out of those warehouses, and the area has made notable contributions to local hip-hop. In the mid-’90s, the warehouse at 4001 San Leandro was occupied by the Mystik Journeymen during a formative time in their development. The DIY hip-hop duo became known for throwing “Top Ramen” parties at the spot, where the cover charge was $5 or a package of the starchy instant noodle soup. When the crew expanded to become the Living Legends in 1996, emcees Eligh, the Grouch and Murs all moved into the space, where they lived in makeshift partitioned “rooms” and recorded some of their earliest works as a collective.
Faultline is among the currently active artist spaces in the area; others include the embattled Vulcan Lofts (whose residents have been fighting to maintain rent control and prevent displacement of 200 artists since 2019) and Oscillation Studios.
David Burke, co-lead artist for the Souls of Mischief mural, is headquartered at Faultline, along with co-lead artist Pancho Peskador. The two are public art veterans; Burke served as art director for Art Esteem’s Oakland Superheroes Mural Project, while Peskador was co-lead artist on the Alice Street mural that became the subject of an award-winning documentary film. The story behind their most recent mural is one of compassion, sacrifice, love — and third eye vision.
Burke and Peskador worked on the project with a third co-lead artist, Joevic Yeban, as well as assistant artists Veronica Aguilar and Pablo Ruiz, and photographer Steve Babuliak. The mural is the third in a series of “Love Letter to Oakland”-themed murals; the other two are located in Jack London Square and Temescal. Burke says additional entries in the series are continually under consideration, “but we want them to be neighborhood-specific.”
The 30th anniversary of the Souls’ debut album 93 Til Infinity served as a catalyst for the mural, says Burke. “I thought, man, that would be a great thing to celebrate them in conjunction with this anniversary tour,” he says. In the first half of this year, Burke’s team met with the Souls and brought them into the studio for reference photos. “And then,” Burke says, “we had to find a site.”
They wanted a large-scale wall to maximize visual impact, and a spot in East Oakland, where the Souls are from. “That was really important to us, because their headquarters is right around the corner from where we eventually painted the mural,” says Burke.
After exploring various options, the best one turned out to be their home base. Faultline’s landlord gave them permission to paint the studio’s building, and also granted them a rent reduction for the service — which was critical, because other funding sources dried up. The muralists ended up doing their latest love letter as an actual act of love.
“It’s not like we’re trying to always do this under budget or for free or anything like that,” Burke says, adding that artists sometimes have to find a balance between commercially lucrative and artistically satisfying projects. This was the latter.
Work began in July; the entire painting process took about five weeks. Throughout, the muralists’ spirits were uplifted, Peskador says, by “the constant support and excitement of the neighborhood people” from all walks of life: OUSD employees, the unhoused, everyday residents and families.
The original sketch left room for creative inspiration. “In this mural we were jazz players,” says Peskador. “It has a structure. But also we were able to improvise on top of that structure.”
“We wanted to give each one of the band members their own space to operate. And each one of those portraits has their own environment,” adds Burke.
This birthed a specific design aesthetic, Peskador says. “We wanted to create an analog and futuristic vision where technology and nature are embracing each other, not necessarily in contraposition and fighting.”
Visual symbols included musical equipment — speakers and old-school equalizers — as well as what Peskador calls “a little magic: orbs of energy coming out of Opio’s hands, cables that turn into veins and the veins turn into roots. And all that is intertwined and interconnected, giving the statement [that] nothing is separate. We are all connected.”
The painters finished the day before the Sept. 3 unveiling ceremony, which turned out to be a reminder of what’s good about Oakland: culture, community, and diversity.
While waiting for the Souls to arrive, the muralists chatted with local visual artists Keena Romano and Jet Martinez, and DJ Hella Good spun underground hip-hop — including deep Hiero cuts, like Del’s “The Undisputed Ones” — while perched on a scaffold. Neighborhood residents remarked how they’d been following the mural’s progress as the crowd began to thicken with Hiero supporters: friends, family, and former Skyline High classmates. (Full disclosure: I spoke at this event, introducing the Souls by putting their legacy in context.)
When it came time for the Souls to speak, the moment became weighty and poignant. Seeing the mural in person for the first time, they were visibly moved: A-Plus and Phesto, in particular, spoke in halting tones, struggling to find the right words and maintain composure.
“As guys who are wordsmiths,” Tajai began, “there’s no way to put into words” what the mural meant to them. “There is no way to possibly explain how this feels to guys who grew up here, never left here, been here the whole time, really trying to elevate what’s here. Because we know how beautiful and how important it is, just Oakland in general, worldwide.
“The Panthers, the hippies, womens’ movement, people with disabilities, (the Bay Area) is a place where all these movements have been championed. And spearheaded. To be part of this permanent landscape is extremely important to us. We’re grateful to the artists and all of y’all beyond the limited ability of words to express.”
After a hectic year of doing 100-plus shows, on top of 30 years of being professional musicians, there weren’t many firsts they’d yet to achieve, Tajai added. “This here is a first like no other.”
“If you know me, I could never be called a man of few words, but there’s always a day,” said A-Plus, before taking an extended pause. “I know my father’s here. I’m super-thankful, super proud. Man…” his words trailed off. “This is huge. I love y’all.”
“It’s indescribable,” said Opio. “We put our heart and soul into this. It’s been a lot of hard work and dedication. To be honored in your hometown has gotta be one of the greatest honors of all time for me.”
“We’ve been following the progress of the mural overseas and on the North American side,” explained Phesto Dee. “When they started finishing up this side, my wife brought my kids down and they stood in front of it.” He paused to let the emphasis resonate. “They stood in front and that just did it. The scale started to really come to me at that point, just how large it was. Also, what it means for generations to come.”
Burke says it was important to give the Souls their flowers while they are still here, noting that many hip-hop-themed local murals are memorials painted only after the passing of a musical icon. He was also conscious of the fact the mural and its subjects represent a counter-narrative to mainstream depictions of hip-hop. During their Hiero Day performance, A-Plus told the crowd, “we’re about that peace.” When Opio came into the studio to take his reference photo, he reportedly said, “I just want to be smiling.”
The Love Letters crew are still planning a Phase 2, where they hope to complete the unfinished sections of the wall and honor local female hip-hop artists, along with Oakland’s graffiti history.
But for now, the artists can chill, knowing they’ve accomplished something great. For Peskador, the mural’s significance is that it has altered the neighborhood’s drab environment in a positive way.
“That is so huge for me personally, to see how people vibrate (to the mural) and how you can change places… the energy of that corner is changed forever. It’s never going to be the same corner.”