Saar, whom White would eventually recruit to teach at Otis, grew up on the edge of Altadena in the 1930s and ’40s. Her neighborhood’s paperboy, she told me, was Jackie Robinson, who lived down the street. Her local landmarks included the five-and-dime store, where she bought trinkets and art supplies. Though she would eventually settle in Laurel Canyon after studying art at Pasadena Junior College and U.C.LA., she has maintained tight family and professional relationships to both Altadena and northwest Pasadena throughout her life.

In the 1950s Saar (whose maiden name was Brown) started a jewelry business, cleverly named Brown and Tann, with Curtis Tann. Saar’s sister, the teacher and civic leader Jeffalyn Johnson, settled in a home on Lincoln Avenue, where she and her husband, Alvin, hosted art shows in their backyard. Visitors would dress in their Sunday best. Other venues for art display, Saar said, were churches, afternoon tea parties and artist-run studios. Often there would be musical performances or book readings.

“It was very Altadena — laid-back, informal and filled with makers supporting each other,” said Moore, adding that artists here often stayed under the radar, without recognition by distant galleries, museums and critics. When Saar and others broke through , they were often identified as part of the larger Los Angeles scene.

And then came the fires. Hundreds of artists have lost their homes and studios, and it’s unclear how many will be able, or willing, to return.

“I just don’t want to go through this again,” said La Monte Westmoreland, 83, a longtime Altadena collage artist who lost one home in the 1993 Kinneloa fire. He rebuilt, only to lose his patio, koi pond and metal and ceramic sculptures in this one. “I don’t want to think about the next fire.”