Built on a theory of revolution

AS revolutionaries go, gleeful, exuberant Anita Martinez and her quiet, pensive boyfriend Tiburcio Vasquez (a pseudonym borrowed from a local 19th century bandit) are fairly mild-mannered.

Weary of organizing and protesting, they decided to channel their politics into Flor y Canto Centro Comunitario, an all-volunteer community center in Highland Park, which they opened with neighbors in 2001. It’s a hub for activities such as lectures, movie screenings, group meetings and more.

The airy, apricot-colored space has the ambience of a Mexican coffeehouse, with attractive thrift-store and sidewalk-rescued furniture, shelves of books with subjects as varied as anarchism, gypsies and knitting, and an inviting Foosball table that dominates the room.

During the afternoon, when the sun streams through the windows, Flor y Canto is an after-school hangout for kids from nearby Nightingale Middle School, who burst in through the door to use the four computers (50 cents per half-hour, or free if the kids are broke). Some come with their parents, others by themselves.

“We’re not here to educate kids or indoctrinate them into any political ideology,” Martinez says. “It’s just a space for people to come and do what they want. It seems to attract kids and people in general who like to do their own thing.”

In the evening, Flor y Canto takes on a different personality, hosting wide-ranging events, which are always free.

On a recent Friday Film Night, pierced punks and a fiftysomething crowd of seasoned political activists drift in late, clutching food and drink for a potluck. Screening is the obscure 1981 documentary “Anarchism in America.” Afterward, there’s a frank, thoughtful discussion on whether the film accurately reflects anarchist ideals. The conversation touches all aspects of anarchism, and it makes for an uncommon sight -- a group of mostly older folks in earnest conversation -- not about real estate values or the latest reality show, but about changing the world.

Hector Gallegos is the host of a radical lecture series at Flor y Canto called Free University, wherein neighborhood regulars and tenured professors talk about political topics near and dear to their hearts. One, on the obscure political-artistic movement Situationism, attracted a surprising range of people.

“Housewives and people who might bag your groceries, they were taking notes,” he says. “We put up thousands of fliers around bus stops and places like that, so people came out of nowhere.”

The well-attended lectures have tackled anarchist favorites like Emma Goldman and the Zapatistas, as well as topics unlikely to be available in the UCLA catalog such as Puerto Rican independence or the liberation struggle in Tanzania.

A photo exhibition titled “Recognize: Snapshots of Los Angeles Bike Riders” adorns Flor y Canto’s walls, and the venue hosts the monthly Los Angeles Needle Exchange, a knitting group. Rather than grandmas knitting booties and exchanging casserole recipes, this knitting outfit (the group also crochets, embroiders, cross-stitches, etc.) possesses a punk aesthetic, includes quite a few men and creates art shows of their work.

“Last year, we had the Liberation Doll Parade on our wall,” says Martinez, describing a display of homemade dolls fashioned in the likeness of inspirational characters from history. “Instead of a May Day Parade, where everyone goes around and gets bored marching, [we had] a little parade on the wall.”

KEEPING with Flor y Canto’s unwavering independent theme is the touring punk-rock cabaret, the Perpetual Motion Roadshow, which has appeared at the space. The tour, which originated in Canada and journeys across the country, features under-the-radar indie acts. The participants have included “ninja poetess” Cynthia Gould, “speed-metal folkie” Snoovy, “puppet-packing satirist” Jeff Cottrill and “disgruntled guitarist” Ocho. “No boring readings or your money back,” the tour claims, though the shows are always free.

“The idea,” says Vasquez, explaining Flor y Canto’s anti-capitalist philosophy, “is that you can have a space where it isn’t a business model, where it’s not just a bookstore or a cafe or something. This is an example of where you don’t need a lot of money to make it happen.”

Flor y Canto pays its rent through donations and book sales. Says Vasquez: “We are all volunteers. Nobody gets paid. For the past four years, it’s been able to maintain itself because people have found a need for it.”

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Flor y Canto

Where: 3706 N. Figueroa Ave., Highland Park

When: 4 to 8 p.m. Monday through Friday; 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. Saturday

Price: Free

Info: (323) 276-1148 or www.florycanto.org