Restoration of Bottle Village in Simi still a tour guide's dream

Driven by determination

For years, Joanne Johnson has championed the restoration of Simi Valley's Bottle Village, a quirky collection of glass-bottle structures, a mosaic walkway and curiosities.

It's been panned and praised, with people debating whether it's junk or folk art.

"Stop arguing about it," Johnson said, "and just let it be, like anything else that's old, like me."

Johnson, who learned two weeks ago she has stage-four inflammatory breast cancer, is tired of the haggling over the village that was nearly destroyed by the 1994 Northridge earthquake. But she remains optimistic, about her future and Bottle Village, which she says is closer to restoration than ever.

An outline of construction costs and a timeline has been prepared by ARG Conservation Services, a San Francisco firm that restored Watts Towers, a similar folk art project in Los Angeles. The 17 sculptures, adorned with a mosaic of broken glass, sea shells, generic pottery and tile, are now managed by the city that once tried to tear them down.

The challenge to restoring Bottle Village is money, an estimated $1.2 million for the so-called Bottle Village Stabilization project. Johnson's immediate goal is to raise $60,000 in private donations by the end of the year so planning documents can be presented to the city.

Bottle Village has been closed for regular tours since 1984 because of what the city calls unsafe conditions: unreinforced masonry, glass bottles and concrete.

City leaders have long said they don't want public money allocated to the project.

In 1997, when it appeared the Federal Emergency Management Agency would award a $455,000 grant to repair the village after the 1994 earthquake, former City Councilwoman Sandi Webb and Rep. Elton Gallegly, R-Simi Valley, opposed it and the grant was lost.

Gallegly called it a waste of taxpayers' money.

"People just hate it to hate it," Johnson said. "There's no rhyme or reason to it; it's just their belief system."

Driven by determination

Johnson has been hooked on Bottle Village since she first visited 34 years ago.

"Bottle Village isn't a battle; it's a statement," she said. "It's here, period. It's going to stay, period."

Johnson, 64, began receiving radiation treatment last week that will continue every weekday for about two months. Her body is riddled with scars from six surgeries, including a mastectomy. And rheumatoid arthritis has curled her once-nimble hands.

Even with her deteriorating health, she still gives "unofficial" tours of Bottle Village, something she's done on and off since 1978.

"I look normal, and I sound normal," Johnson said. "And my brain goes at warp speed, but my body is shot to hell."

On a recent morning, she brought some sparkle to her appointment at the Simi Valley Radiation Oncology Medical Center. Shiny earrings, leopard-print pants, rainbow-colored socks and pink shoes offset the gray machine that scanned her upper body.

"Usually everyone is uptight and worried and scared, but she takes it so well," said Marietta Davidson, one of the front desk assistants at the center.

Johnson says she copes with her health situation in part by making art. That might mean forming a sculpture out of oatmeal or cutting off the hair and breasts of a doll, a "chemo Barbie" modeled after herself.

Adaptation has always been a part of her life, but it takes on a special meaning now.

Creator was misunderstood

The story of Bottle Village resonates with Johnson, who befriended its creator Tressa "Grandma" Prisbrey.

Prisbrey started Bottle Village when she was 60, using tossed-aside furniture, toys, bottles, various materials and 17,000 pencils. She created "Cleopatra's Room," the "Round House" and the "Pencil House." She lived in a Streamline trailer on the property at 4595 Cochran Street.

Many people wondered why Prisbrey did it. Was she eccentric? Was she obsessively saving items?

Johnson says neither speculation is true because Prisbrey was far too neat.

"Her trailer inside was like captain's quarters," Johnson said. "She had everything organized. She had a TV guide where she underlined the programs she wanted to watch."

Johnson was a teacher and a mother who moved from Chicago with her husband to Thousand Oaks when she was 30.

She first saw Bottle Village in 1976, catching a glimpse of the red and blue objects that reflected the light. There was no gate then, just two poles covered with gold-painted Venetian blinds. She stumbled upon the place when she was looking for a Pic 'n Save.

"It was so bright, shiny, colorful and sparkly compared to the barren brownness," she said.

She was greeted by Prisbrey, who also moved from the Midwest when she was 30. Johnson didn't get much of a tour because Prisbrey wasn't feeling well.

"We just sat in the trailer and talked all afternoon," she said. "I never made it to Pic 'n Save."

As she got to know Prisbrey over time, Johnson grew to admire her tenacity, never questioning why she created Bottle Village.

"I just figured she wanted to do this," Johnson said, "she did it, and how cool is that?"

Preserving the memory

She and several others continue efforts to restore Bottle Village through a nonprofit Johnson co-founded, called Preserve Bottle Village, which owns the property. Fundraising so far has brought in about $2,000. Johnson also manages two Facebook pages about Bottle Village. She also would like to one day write an anthology of Prisbrey. More than 90 books mention Prisbrey's creation, but nothing is dedicated solely to the woman who died in 1988 at age 92.

"There has been so much PR about Bottle Village over the years, it makes me wonder why it's still falling apart," she said.

In the past month, there have been volunteer Sundays when people sign up to help clean Bottle Village. And Bottle Village will be showcased in a display at the Simi Valley City Library in the coming weeks.

Johnson has been greatly influenced by the village, to the point where she calls her Simi Valley home "an annex" of sorts.

Her homage includes collections of "rust" — tools and cans that have rusted over time and are stacked like as a sculpture in the backyard. There's also pink flamingoes peeking out of a toilet bowl. Blue bottles that reflect the sun in one tree, with sea shell collections at the bottom of another.

When she gives tours of Bottle Village nearly every Sunday, Johnson said a "switch goes on." "Many times I've gone over to Bottle Village, really feeling yucky, barely able to walk and stiff," Johnson said. "But then everyone leaves, and they're happy, I'm happy. Then I go home and have a happy memory."

For Johnson, cancer means living life as she always has, day to day.

She says she has always been in touch with the randomness and chaos of life, which is perhaps why she connects so strongly to Bottle Village.

"People always want to control their lives, and I've never thought of myself as a control freak," she said. "Maybe that helps me in the fact that I know it's not a perfect world."

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