If you don’t know Randy, there is a solid possibility you’ve never stepped foot on Jacksonia St. When outdoors, the artist extends every passerby an unself-conscious greeting. On my evening visit, his train of thought is interrupted a handful of times to call to neighbors by name and ask about their days.
"A lot of people could pass each other daily without ever knowing each other," he says to me. He makes it his mission for that to not happen on his corner.
Randy started his personal introductions to his neighbors in the early '80s, a decade before he purchased the property that would become Randyland. The streets were riddled with empty lots, and cleaning them up became his priority. Every day, when the sun went down, he’d go out to tidy up the green spaces, collect building supplies, and meet people.