A stumbling walk

Resilient c.2012

"All of us might wish at times that we lived in a more tranquil world, but we don't. And if our times are difficult and perplexing, so are they challenging and filled with opportunity" ~ Robert F. Kennedy

"Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live."~RFK

A walk from the earth to the moon

Closer  C.2012

Giant steps are what you take walking on the moon

I hope my leg don't break walking on the moon...

I love being a tourist in my own city, especially when friends from out of town come to visit. Even if I’ve visited an eye rolling “overrated” hot spot a hundred times, it’s a completely new experience with each visit, and it's always enjoyable with the right company. I admit I take a lot of these "tourist" places for granted. It’s so easy to do so, and more often than not, the only time we notice certain spots is when the place itself closes or we lose someone who wanted to visit it.  One place I definitely took for granted was the Griffith Park Observatory.

I remember the field trips to the Observatory as a kid and I always had fun. Well, as much fun as a place of education could offer. As I got a little older I remember I began to put off plans to visit.  I swore I’d attend some of the musical shows “soon”. Then it closed down for renovations for several years during my early 20s. I can't say it was sudden. It was announced all over but I simply kept putting it off until I missed my chance. Once it reopened I fell back into the same pattern of “oh I’ll visit soon”. Before I knew it, another several years went by. I wish I had visited under different circmstances, but I finally made it back to the observatory last May, on what would've been my mother’s birthday to be exact. It was a gorgeous spring evening and I did something I’d never bothered to do before. I stood in the long line in order to look through the Zeiss telescope.  That night I finally saw the moon, up close and personal. Even though the whole process was a bit of an assembly line, and I only saw it for a few seconds, it was absolutely breathtaking. Many of my favorite songs and movie scenes center around the moon. My all time favorite author, Jules Verne, wrote an incredibly imaginative story about a few civil war vets who wanted to build a rocket ship to the moon. From the Earth to the Moon (De la Terre à la Lune, 1865) 

"Nothing can astound an American. It has often been asserted that the word "impossible" is not a French one. People have evidently been deceived by the dictionary. In America, all is easy, all is simple; and as for mechanical difficulties, they are overcome before they arise..."~Jules Verne, From the earth to the moon

Anyway, I had the chance to visit the observatory again last week with some friends that came to visit. We had some time to kill before a night out in Hollywood so it felt like a fitting way to begin their vacation. The telescope wasn’t open when we arrived but the view of the city was still enjoyable in spite of the colorful layer of smog. I have no doubt I'll be visiting this place more often. I feel lucky to have a place like this within reach. A place that makes the moon within reach.

"What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary"~ George Bailey, It's a Wonderful Life

An authoritative walk through the train

Busted 

The LA metro system is lightyears behind the rest of the other major cities in the world in several aspects. I've said this before and I'm not the only one. The part of the metro system I've never understood is the "honor" system when it comes to the fare. Paper tickets are sold at each rail station where you could buy a day pass for $5 or a one way ticket for $1.50. There are also plastic "tap" passes that you can reload and pay your fare on special tap stands as you walk through any train platform. There isn't anyone you show your pass to, and there aren't any turnstiles on the majority of the stations. If you're strapped for cash, forgot to break change or don't have time to buy a ticket as the train approaches, it's understandable if you skip buying a ticket. The likelyhood of metro sheriffs citing you are quite low even though there are warning signs everywhere about the consequence of breaking this rule. A $250 fine if you're caught without the proper ticket. So when the metro police suddenly decide they want to enforce the rules, they can rake in a good amount of money. I read the MTA want to make some major changes to address this problem.  To be honest, I don't know why this loose fare method was ever the norm in the first place.

That said, everytime I've seen someone get busted I can't help but feel bad for them. Sure, it's their own fault and that's the gamble they decided to take. But I've risked it before, especially when I was in high school and I got lucky. $250 is a devastating setback for many of these violators and conversely patrons not paying their fare is devastating to the city since it quickly adds up.

Whenever I hear the occassional "TICKETS AND PASSES" echo through the train, I panic for a split second and make sure I have my pass on me. I'd rather complain about money slipping through my fingers rather than knowing exactly where that money went. My final thought on the issue? I'm quite sure less people would take that $250 risk if the MTA didn't make it so incredibly easy. 

damn...

A torn walk

Polluted sunset C.2011

One December evening, I was walking past the Disney concert hall in Downtown Los Angeles when I had the sudden urge to stop and capture the sunset through a torn fence. When I got home and reviewed what I had shot, I realized this particular frame reminded me of a photograph I'd seen before. The tear in the fence made me think of an old photo Lee Miller took during her time in Egypt in the 1930s. A female photographer in Egypt in the 1930s. Can you imagine how amazing that must've been??

 Lee Miller is one of my all time photographic heroes and an amazing inspiration (pardon my *feminist* gushing).  I came to know of her during my fascination with Man Ray in my late teens. She worked with Man Ray (in several definitions) and was his model for several of his works. Her photographs weren't looked at in depth during any of my art or photography classes in college, which is a real shame. Her talent, work, growth, and fearless approach to her photography, especially during her time as a WWII photojournalist, make her one of the most amazing artists in my book. Of course, every creative mind strives to invent their own interpretations of ideas that may have been done before. But if you've been directly influenced, it's important to give credit where it's due. As my old history professors would always say~Always site your source.

Portrait of Space C.1937 Lee Miller 

Dang, girl. You changed my life...

Tracing grandma's footsteps: #1

Grandma's Footsteps c.2011

Address : 808 S. Broadway Downtown Los Angeles

Year: 1976

Former Name : Ideal Fashions

Current Name: Anjac Fashion 

I was very excited to visit the first location of my grandma's former workplaces. To be honest, I was thinking about how to approach this project throughout the day. Instead of walking to all of the locations in one go, I decided to visit one location in a given day and in chronological order.

I should mention my grandma was a seamstress her entire life, which will give everyone a better idea of the type of buildings she was at. She loved to sew outside of work too. She'd make some clothes for me when she had the extra time and resources. My favorite handmade item was a purple dress she made especially for my 2nd grade picture day. But I digress...

After I got out of work and ate a quick dinner out, I looked at the stapled 1976 W2 forms and selected one address. With a full stomach and renewed energy, I walked from Flower down to Broadway along 7th street. As I was looking for the street numbers, I noticed I wasn't too far from the location. I was at 710 and needed to find 808. The majority of the street numbers on that side of Broadway are hard to find. Most are missing or just hand painted. It was a different feeling to walk while looking up for the numbers. The shops and stands along Broadway are so overwhelmingly "in your face" that it's easy to miss some of the architectural designs that are directly above everyone's heads over second floor.

 Grandma's Footsteps c.2011

As I approached 806, I saw two unnumbered spaces then 810. I asked a vendor next door which one was 808, and she pointed at the chained gate. She went on to tell me it's out of business and completely empty. I was surprised since it didn't look abandoned. There was a security camera and the decals on the doors were completely in tact, so it looked like it was just closed for the day. I asked the vendor how long had it been closed and she said it's been about 6 months.

Grandma's Footsteps c.2011

Based on the tax form, my grandma wasn't there for too long. She never went into detail about why she  left her jobs. All I know is that she simply moved onto the next place. It was the only way she knew how to survive. She had to, for herself and for her two daughters. I'll always be thankful for that and I'll continue to thank her by retracing these steps.

The Purple Dress

f*ck yeah side ponytail!

A walk through my grandmother's past

Pursuing the American dream

I love my family (God rest their souls) but I grew up with a couple of hoarders. I've always known that to some extent but now that I'm in charge of deciding what to toss and what is worth keeping, it has really hit me. I'll never fully understand why they kept so much, although I can try understand the possibility of the stuff simply sneaking up on them over the years.

I'm having a good time finding some interesting items and I've come up with a new idea for a photo series. It came to me while I was purging my grandmother's W2 forms from the 1970s (yes, you read that correctly). I noticed she had several jobs in Downtown L.A. between 1976-81.  I wrote down a few addresses and I plan to visit each building over the next few days and take a snapshot. I'm sure I've walked past these specific places a million times before, completely unaware of the personal link. I can't wait to see what these specific addresses look like and I can't wait to share the images.

A walk alongside abandoned tracks

Mobile pic 2011

“You know, the camera is not meant just to show misery. You can show things that you like about the universe, things that you hate about the universe. It's capable of doing both.”

~Gordon Parks

An apology

Ditch days

c.2007

(Written March 2011)

Mom,

Late last year when you had the sudden urge to eat at Clifton’s Cafeteria, I thought it was really strange. I remember going there several times when I was little but I didn’t remember the food being anything special. My memories attached to that place are associated with a specific court case when I was 8.  That’s where we ate right after the trial and I don't remember enjoying it after that day.

When I asked why you suddenly wanted to go back, you shared something I never heard before. Your first meal when you came to this country was at Clifton’s Cafeteria. That was actually really cool to learn. But for some reason (my own selfish reasons) I kept putting off our lunch date at Clifton’s. To tell you the truth, there were too many other places I wanted to take you to eat instead. I tried my best to keep our bi-monthly lunch dates. But in the end, I let my own bad memories associated with Clifton’s deprive you of your own nostalgia.

When your neurological exam was finally scheduled for Friday March 25^th, I was happy for many reasons. Not only was I thrilled that you were prepared to take the necessary steps to tackle this brain tumor, but I was also looking forward to our ditch day. We were finally going to eat at Clifton’s and then go to the L.A. Zoo, like you’d been wanting for some time. That was the plan.

My heart stopped for a moment when I saw you lose consciousness the night of the 11^th. On the way to the hospital, I didn’t want to believe that this was all unraveling two weeks before your scheduled exam, and before our ditch day. As the days passed, I became anxious, especially when I learned of the possibility of multiple procedures. I wanted you to come home for a while before going back to the hospital. When the first procedure didn’t go as planned, I couldn’t wait for you to wake up. The danger was becoming too real. I shared my fears with my close friends and I couldn’t wait to promise you we’d be going to Clifton’s the moment you got out of there. My worst fears were confirmed when I was informed you were rushed to a second emergency procedure and you were never going to wake up. From one day to the next, I never thought my last words to you would be just that. Last words.

 I’m so sorry I kept putting off your simple requests…a meal at Clifton’s being the most recent one. That will always haunt me every time I walk by the corner of 7^{th  &} Broadway. Of course there are a million other things I would’ve done differently. I honestly assumed we had more time. Everyday I wish we had more time.

A walk down to the artwalk

As the next Downtown L.A. Artwalk event approaches, I'm reminded of the pleasant stroll I took while heading over to the artwalk last month. 

I decided to take "the long way" down to the artwalk before meeting my friends who were already having dinner on Spring St. I could have met up with them sooner and I didn't have to walk down from upper Grand. However, on my way from work I realized I didn't have too many pictures of the Cal Plaza at night. Besides, if this picturesque detour meant I could avoid the rat friendly blocks that border Pershing Square, then so be it. There weren't many people walking around the plaza, which wasn't surprising. It wasn't too late but I've noticed that place typically becomes a bit of a ghost town after the sun sets.  I was vigilant about anyone following me, but I was actually a bit more anxious of any rats that might cross my path.

I already liked visiting that place during the daytime on a weekend. It can be a very peaceful pocket in the city and I found that exact sentiment was true on a week night. Although I was simply passing through, I felt as ease and serene. That isn't something I can say for too many parts of Downtown L.A. at night. At least not from the ground level.

A stroll through Cal Plaza 

c.2011

A missed block of local history

Mobile pic c.2011

Yesterday was off to a frustrating start. I woke up with a full blown flu, I was out of medication, and I had two library books that were due. I tried to renew the books online but they were put on hold by someone else. Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice but to take them back in my condition. But I figured I could get some fresh air and pick up some much needed medicine.

After I dropped off my books, I wasn't in the mood to hang out and browse. (You know I must have been really sick) I met up with Chris and we decided to walk over to Little Toyko to have a early dinner before my medication reload. We walked along 5th St. past Pershing Square, which I hate to do late in the afternoon due to the nasty rats that like to run by. Aside from the rat anxiety, the fresh air was a nice contrast to my feverish forehead. As we crossed the street onto Hill St., Chris pointed to the ground and smiled.  My reaction? "Wow, that's old school!" It's strange that this piece of pavement has been left alone years after Thrifty's became Rite Aid. It's stranger that this piece isn't in front of a Rite Aid. It's even stranger that I've repeatedly missed this piece of pavement.  

I'm sure I'm not the only one that has memories of trips to Thrifty's specifically for the ice cream. Rite Aid still sells the well known ice cream under its former name, but it's not 29 cents anymore. In our household, Baskin Robbins ice cream was for extra special occasions. You can label Thrifty's ice cream as the proletariat's ice cream. Coconut Pinapple, Black Cherry and Rocky Road were my favorite flavors. They still are. I remember I couldn't wait until I was old enough to finish a triple scoop on a waffle cone. Come to think of it, I never got to do that. I think I know what I'll order on my birthday. 

Has it all been done?

No More Ideas c.2010

Whenever I walk through the streets of L.A., I often ignore people that walk by me. This might have originated during my upbringing. My mother was a very young when she had me and was in her early twenties by the time I started school. She's very pretty and received a lot of unwanted attention in her youth. One of the first social lessons she taught me was how to ignore men. Anytime she received an inappropriate cat call she would instruct me not to look at the person and to simply keep walking. As I grew up, that tip evolved to apply to everyone. I've walked right by old friends and even celebrities because of my tendency to look straight ahead or to look down.

Looking down as I walk has had it's advantages. Aside from finding coins and avoiding dog shit, I've also noticed artwork that can be missed quite easily. I was walking in downtown one day when I saw the following message stenciled on the sidewalk. "No More Ideas". I'm sure this is intentionally vague, but it got me thinking about my own love of photography. As time progresses it seems that everything that can be done artistically has in fact been done. Have we really gotten to a point where every style reminds the viewer of someone else's work?


I believe every person brings a different perspective to their work, visually or technically. This can be true even when intentionally duplicating a style. Whether the end result is any good is another story. In a time when Hollywood studios keep filming remakes, TV has been swarmed by the reality programming, and new artwork looks familiar, it's understandable to think we're out of ideas. Many like myself try to prove that this isn't a fact, and at the end of the day, we all hope we're right.

Lonely girl c.2010

Walking in the heat

I never fail to be amazed at the silly things customers do to save a little money. Growing up with a painfully frugal mother, it wasn't unheard of to take multiple buses to get to Ralphs supermarket across the city in order to use double coupons on cereal.

Occasionally, I do participate in some sale events and I feel it always prove I am in fact my mother's daughter. The most recent newsworthy mob I was a part of was at the Forever 21 warehouse sale in the industrial district of Downtown L.A. Why newsworthy? Not because the prices were so low (they actually really were), but rather because it was one of the hottest days of the year and nobody passed out.

The event planners did not anticipate such a large turnout, which resulted in 6 registers and hundreds of unorganized customers just sorching in the brutal heat. Two of my friends had to leave, but my mother and I stubbornly waited it out. It wasn't so much that we HAD to have the items, but at that point, it would've been worse to walk out dehydrated and empty handed.

After leaving with our purchases, I made a decision. Not only will I never be one of those ravenous women at the $99 bridal gown sales, but I will never do anything like this for "normal people clothes" again...at least not in extreme temperatures.

Easter eggs on the train

c.2010

Mobile picture

A Tuesday night on the train…

I arrived at the train station fairly late Tuesday night. I ate dinner in downtown because I didn’t want to eat a late dinner at home. I stay up late when I do and well I don’t want to be one of the sleeping passengers in the morning do I?

The train was late and a large crowd had formed at the first stop. Everyone was silent and beat from a long day. There was a crazy drunk on the other platform but two electrical railroads served as a safe barrier.

Finally, the sound of the warning horn and the three bright lights of the train appeared. We were all a step closer to being on our way home. I sat down across from a rather poorly dressed guy with several bags. He looked like he’s been having a rough time. I couldn’t tell if he was homeless. The trains run very late so it wouldn’t have surprised me if he was setting up a temporary camp. As I’m inadvertently staring, I notice he got on his knees and plugged his radio in an outlet underneath one of the seats. Have those outlets been there since 1990?? I couldn't help but smile in disbelief. Good know...

Sleepwalking

One thing you can’t do while driving to work is sleep on the way there. But then again most bus riders need to wake up earlier and consequently lose sleep in the process. I haven’t been necessarily losing sleep. I’m getting my usual 6 hours. But for some reason, waking up earlier feels so much worse, even if I am getting the same amount of rest.

I’ve adjusted to my new schedule and by having done so, I’m not one of the poor souls passed out on the train ride into the city. I've been impressed at the reliability of the camera on my phone. It's discreet enough...at least until I can afford a Leica.

Lost sleep c.2010

Am I breaking any kind of ethical code? It's probably obvious where I stand on the matter. If it’s in a public place then it’s fair game, right?

Blurred vision

City hall through head grease

Los Angeles, Ca c.2010

I know the MTA billboard campaigns are aimed to point out the many advantages of using public transportation. I won't argue against those advantages. The most obvious that comes to mind is the environmental contribution. After all, it's a known fact that the city of Los Angeles is one of the worst places in the world for air quality.

That's about all I can contribute to the "pros" list. I'll think of more advantages once my situation changes. Hindsight is always 20/20 right? I do like that I am able to appreciate the scenery through my daily commute through Downtown Los Angeles, just like the old days. I can't read in transit because I get motion sickness. Honestly, I would be able to devour books on a weekly basis if it wasn't for that little annoyance.

One evening on my bus ride home, I sat down in an empty row and immediately noticed my view was blurred. Even though my eyesight has been slowly deteriorating due to the strain of my day job, I knew this blurred vision wasn't caused by poor eyesight. The blur was on the interior side of the window. I instantly recognized the texture. It was head grease.

I remember the first time I solved 'the mystery of the nasty slime' when I was in high school. I would usually try to get window seat because if you dosed off, you could always rest your head on the window instead of embarrassingly mimicking a souvenir bobble head. I've seen others do it. I've done it. I did it this morning. To continue with the story, one early morning I snatched a coveted window seat. Just before I rested my head on the window I realized there was a noticeable blur. I knew I wasn't that sleepy. I nearly brushed my nose against the smeared gloss as I inspected what this could be. The obvious solution in my groggy state of mind was to touch it with my index finger. My finger slid upon contact. Almost as soon as I touched it I quickly retracted it in horror. I wiped my finger on the seat over and over until the tip got red. What the hell was that?? Just as I asked myself that question, it was all made clear. A man in front of me was asleep and had his head rested on the window. Several stops later, he woke up and exited, and also left a blurry window for the next passenger. To be honest, this man didn't have an obvious amount of gel. I don't think he had any based on his appearance. That was nature made.

Since then, whenever I've come across a blurred window, I simply move. I would rather stare at a complete stranger in a parallel row or stand up for an undisclosed amount of time rather than to gross myself out from a triggered memory. Although my latest reaction, much to my surprise, wasn't to move seats or stand up. It was simply to pull out my camera...

In and out

Once again, the central library is the focus of my attention. I stopped by over the weekend and briefly walked in, however, the day was so gorgeous outside that I walked right out and enjoyed a good book at the California plaza. I’ve never visited that spot during the week but I can imagine it’s jammed packed with suits and skirts during the afternoons. I enjoy this spot on the weekend since it’s usually quite peaceful (with the exception of the scattered tourists that occasionally stop by).

California Plaza - Mobile upload c.2010

After sipping on fancy water and finishing up a novel, I walked back past the side of the library on Grand Ave. I noticed a window I’ve ignored for years and years. I’ve been aware of the frame but for some reason that day I actually was able to see through it. Barely.

Central library

Exterior c.2010

It isn’t uncommon to see people take a few pictures inside the library from the bottom floors looking up. It’s quite a grand sight. I still do it from time to time. The perspective is obviously much different from outside, but in a surreal way. I was actually more amazed at the fact that I noticed something I’ve never seen before. I felt silly, embarrassed and stupid for having missed this “out looking in” view all this time but I was glad at the same time. As I continue to revisit familiar places, I hope to experience this feeling of rediscovery again and again.

...riding through Los Angeles

Passenger c.2010

Last week I revisited an old friend…the metro blue line. Public transportation usually is a pleasant experience when you don’t HAVE to use it. Since I had the luxury of time & personal space on my side, it was a nice ride. I rode it again to the central library, however this time I chose a window seat facing east. My eye immediately zeroed in on the window etchings.

What form of public transportation hasn’t been defaced? I used to see guys pull out their sharpened pens or box cutters on the 18 route and make their mark. I usually witnessed things like that in the back of the bus and other passengers never spoke up. The scratching on the windows and panels would make me twitch, much like nails to a chalkboard. Pointless behavior in my opinion…almost as pointless as taking public transportation for fun. Kidding.

Making time to walk

Distractions. My home is full of them and I lack the discipline to keep electronics off especially after a long day at work and evening classes. I like to seclude myself in various places to read or write. My favorite spot is at the central library as I’ve mentioned in previous posts. I especially love the cubicles. I like reading in public places without feeling like I’m being watched. Its just a thing I have…Although this is as close to complete seclusion as I can, I do like to carry a portable window with me.

An unwelcome walk...

Digital reading for film project

There are many days when I wish I would have been an aspiring photographer during the days when having your picture taken was a rarity and a privilege. People seemed more willing to let a stranger capture their image…or so the history books have made it seem. Too often I’ve seen people dodge my path at the sight of my camera, whether it’s an SLR or a little point and shoot. I sense their uneasiness immediately. Some see me as a type of thief. No one has ever said that to me but that’s the vibe I often feel.

Recently, I was walking westward on 8th street, expanding my collection of payphones. There was one outside of a small liquor store that I came across and shot it. Immediately, I noticed the storeowner nervously come out to see what I was up to. Having captured what I wanted, I continued on with my walk. As I did this, I also noticed a customer step out behind me. I was about half a block down when I heard the heavyset customer exclaim, “We don’t like cameras”. I didn’t turn back, although I did think about how many photographers they’ve come across and felt photographers are only interested in the exploitation of the area and the people.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve been confronted by someone because I took a picture of a payphone near their store. On Washington and Central I took a picture of a payphone near an entrance to a salon and a nervous young Hispanic man came out and asked me if I had been sent over by someone. I said no and explained the objective of my project. He went on to tell me that his store had been vandalized continuously because he was gay. I apologized for causing any alarm and hoped his troubles would stop soon.

I’ve also been confronted by less understanding storeowners. On Broadway and 8th I took a picture of a payphone that was across the street from the Orpheum theatre. The phone wasn’t next to the convenience store entrance so I was surprised when I saw the storeowner come out to the street and attempt to cover my lens. He was an older man of Middle Eastern descent. He told me I wasn’t allowed to take a picture of his store. I calmly explained what I was doing and assured him that his store wasn’t in my frame, only the payphone. He didn’t care and told me not to shoot anymore. I said the phone was city property and he couldn’t tell me what to do. To his disapproval I quickly captured my picture anyway. He kept an eye on me as I walked down the block. Normally I’d be intimidated by such a confrontation, but honestly, not in my hometown.

I would love to know the specific reasons some of the storeowners have for hating the use of cameras near their stores. Then again if they’re confronting me then they’re probably not in a chatty mood. Either way, this is my ongoing project and it’ll take the actual disappearance of the payphones to get me to stop.

Premeditated walks

Most people that grow up in big cities are exposed to graffiti along with other forms of public defacing. I remember one of the reasons my family moved out of East LA in the late 90s was because the gang graffiti had leaked onto our block and a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t all bad. Some of which could be considered art was ugly and rushed, and other times it would consist of elaborate designs. It always got painted over, but it stayed up long enough where the neighborhood would have had a chance to see it.

During my time in the artists’ district in downtown, I noticed homemade stickers and spray painted stencils were the norm on street posts and signs. This didn’t bother me since I usually stop to read what the perpetrators want us to read. Most of them aren’t worth the time but like the occasional personalized license plate, some do make me laugh or chuckle or provoke thought.

Some of the things I've chosen to capture have deteriorated or got painted over. I guess the universal hope is that someone will notice your mark before it disappears.