Teetering on a Ledger
My live/work space is an apartment in a former motel converted to condo units. It lost its viability as a motor hotel when the surrounding area developed, leaving it in an economic shadow. That makes the area almost perfect for my needs. If only the space had 18' ceiling clearance it would be a real loft. As it is, the ceiling barely clears 8' high. High ceilings are intended for stacks of commercial warehouse merchandise. High ceilings are not just for utility. For artists, loft space is for dreaming.
It's not that bad. I'm just spoiled. I have occupied some memorable live/work spaces. The problem artists face in occupying warehouse spaces is commercial competition. That comes into play before gentrification. If a commercial space is unoccupied the owner can write it off. However, as soon as it is occupied—even at below market rate—it's no longer a complete write-off for the owner, and it turns into a race between what the market will bear, and the owner's profit/loss ledger.
Artists make good tenants. They stabilize the whole block. That, in turn, makes local space more attractive to commercial tenants. I almost forgot to mention; artist-occupied spaces are generally without a lease agreement, and therefore terminable at any time. If the landlord tells the artist-occupant the rent just went up, it means pay-up, or move out to the artist occupying the space. And, as previously said, the artist has no legal grounds for dispute. It can be a code violation to “live-in” a commercial space.
My current occupancy came with a lease. Then, in 2019, the original owner sold it to the property manager and the rent went up 65%. I was lucky it didn't increase more, which it could have, if I hadn't been a good tenant. We talked about writing a new lease but that never happened. The understanding is that I am welcome to stay until I'm ready to move -which will be soon. I've been in the place more than 18 years. It needs renovations, and it will go for at least what I am paying, and unless I'm wrong about the owner being a good guy, for more than what I pay.
The unit I occupy and the whole surrounding area are no longer suitable for the kind of bohemian lifestyle it was when I first moved in. Particulars would be tedious to recount (in writing) but which seem to increase daily. What keeps me from moving is an art exhibit which opens in September and ends in November. It has been scheduled since last October. If I were forced to move immediately all my plans would be seriously impacted, so much so, that I would seek relief from the court.
To that end I am prepared to offer a schedule, agreeable to the owner, and without inconvenience to myself. Such an understanding would be in everyone's best interests, as I see it. I have always given 30 days notice to vacate and expect (at least) the same, as there are circumstance that would require extra time in this instance. The only extenuating circumstance of personal concern to me would be the current landlord's death, because his business matters would be assumed by an unknown entity.
I'm the kind of tenant that sweeps the floor before walking away from a rental. I realize not everybody sees it that way. There is tension between tenants as there is tension between tenant and landlord. I have seen so many tenants come-and-go, including a few who have died. Some who died were old-timers. One was new to the area, just arrived from Guam. An effective artists' district can't be too hospitable, or it would attract the merely residential-class tenants. This area still teeters on the edge of respectability.
After the financial crisis of 2009 the homeless population mushroomed. Homeless figures are unknown, but, as an index of the economic suffering, a survey of home prices tells the story. My finances were almost unaffected after 2009 because I don't leverage credit. I ventured to consider property ownership at that time. That I did not buy is because I am on the edge, financially, with neither sufficient margin excess, nor enough below the level at which government assistance comes into play.
The interesting angle is in the breathtaking fall of property values after the mortgage crisis. As due diligence, I searched the county assessor's records on properties I was considering bidding on. There was this one house that had been bought a year before the crash for about $180,000. A year later, it was listed in the $20s. The price had recovered to around $70-80 when I looked at it. I was shocked. With the dawning of the magnitude of the problem I decided property ownership was not for me, as had been my instinct from the start.
The effect of the mortgage crisis on the public was brutal. This generation was raised on easy money. It was unprepared for the shock. It barely recovered its humanity when the Covid-19 pandemic struck. Some of my neighbors were unable to make rent, and took advantage of whatever eviction prevention resources were available. At that time I was talking to my landlord about a lease, or perhaps, instead, moving sideways into a different unit, so that my unit could be renovated. My landlord pointed at a chart of the complex, and said, those are the units that will be open “after the tenants are evicted.”
Before the 2009 financial crisis, we were still recovering from 9/11, which impacted the tourist economy of the entire city. Without the tourist industry it would be nothing but an Air Force base. That's why I relocated here, specifically, from New York. After 9/11 New York City was a dystopian landscape literally, and culturally. The economy was bad, and people were disillusioned. Thinking along a line of reasoning that suggests, “the antidote for poison is stronger poison,” I relocated to the riskiest place on earth. I've almost run out of luck.