Hollywood Juniper

New project

I have long been enamored of textures and gradations in nature, and been especially drawn to the dry, grey grasses on the hillsides of LA.  They fade from green to brown to silver through the seasons, and when the rains come (fingers crossed), the green slowly creeps back in. 

This weekend I set out with my camera to try to capture the mass of texture made especially evident by our current drought.  I was traipsing through the rough grasses, off the official trail, and kept finding paths made my non-humans.  These little tunnels were well worn and barely big enough to fit the width of my foot.

So often we think about how we humans use space, but rarely do we consider the animal experience of the spaces we create.  They adapt, and make it their own, but I find their subtle choices interesting.  It is mostly in the overgrown areas that their paths are evident -- where the landscape is soft enough to absorb their impression. 

This is the start of a project -- I will continue to observe and take pictures of the evidence of non-human patterns.  The pictures so far are from my favorite hiking spot Debs Park.  It's a small pocket of wild in the middle of the city.  I've seen lots of rabbits here, heard coyotes yapping, and now there is evidence of a bobcat in the hood.

So much of modern landscape architecture is about creating sexy, sleek environments and I sometimes feel like I am in the wrong program because I have very little interest in them.  This weekend reinvigorated my sense of what I can do, though.  It's my intention to be more aware of how our space is indeed shared, and we humans are not the sole caretakers, and to design with that in mind.

In case anyone is curious, my camera of choice here is my Rollieflex twin lens.

Jacarandas

Testing out some more film in the Roland. 

Roland Test Film

I bought a camera several months ago at the thrift store, not knowing what it was.  I knew it was German and looked cool, and had a nice leather case.  Once I got it home, though, and looked it up, I learned I had a small treasure in my hands - a Roland Plasmat from the early 1930s.  Unfortunately, the lens didn't focus, so I had to get it repaired.  I just got it back, and ran a roll of film through.  I'm still learning getting acquainted with the shutter speeds, focus, and framing, but I already love the softness it produces.  Is this what 1933 looked like?

Mingling interchange

'There is no death in mortal things, and no end in ruinous death.  There is only mingling and interchange of parts, and it is this that we call 'Nature.'"  -- Empedocles

From Bernd Heinrich's The Trees in My Forest.  He then proceeds to describe the ancient trees that lose their limbs and slowly fall into disrepair and decay, only to provide more food and shelter to the other living things in the woods.  I find it to be a very comforting thought.

Also, I stumbled upon this preview of a documentary on Bernd Heinrich.  I think his sweater and theories on coffee bode well for the rest of the film.

Picture above from one of my many trips to Vermont.

Tulum II

Just got my film back.  Even the ones where my camera went off accidentally look dreamy.

Ok, now I'll get on the bandwagon and get Christmassy. 

Palm Desert

A study in contrasts between the tamed and wild of Palm Desert -- the amount of sprinklers going off in the middle of the day made my blood pressure rise.  But a tour of The Living Desert opened my eyes to the sculptural treasures of the desert.  While some are used to great effect in town, lush green grass is definitely king here. 

I left Palm Desert via HW 74, the Palms to Pines Highway, and as I climbed the landscape changed every few miles.  I made it to Idyllwild, an hour by car, but a world of difference, and will post pictures of that landscape next.

The garden, last spring

I just got a roll of film developed from over a year ago.  What a nice surprise to see my old garden in all of its glory last spring (must've been March or April judging from the bright spots of poppies).  It has since fallen into summer dormancy and some disrepair since we moved away from it.  I've got big plans for it this winter though -- new plantings, some hard pruning and lots of mulch.

Just a little oleander from my backyard for you.

Just bought my ticket to Vermont...

Ice cream and boulders, warm nights and walks alone, and maybe even a dramatic thunderstorm if I'm lucky.

Lotusland, part III

Just got some film back from last November that included some nice surprises.  More to come.

Weekend

To my mother on her birthday, thanks for teaching me the beauty of things. Here's to more exploring together!

In support of the natural LA River

The LA Planning Commission has approved a development plan that will bring the LA River closer to its natural glory -- more here.

Not only does this mean more beauty for the 32-mile stretch of the river, habitats for wildlife and more recreation areas for Angelenos, I am also looking forward to the possibility of being involved in this development.  Keeping my fingers crossed, although that day seems ages away.

Found via The Eastsider LA.

In memory of Marge

 

There are so many pleasures my grandmother taught me, either directly or through my mom: searching for beach glass, a nice cold coke, big house parties, labradors, Cleveland, mid century design, big silver jewelry, hikes, good scotch, strong tea, oatmeal raisin cookies, classical music, birds of all kinds but especially cranes, warm lap-cats, old american antiques, red fingernail polish, red lipstick, anything red.

Missing you today, Grandma.

Daily Greens

From just over a year ago, as we said goodbye to my grandmother's house and yard in Ohio.  These guys were just pushing up out of the grass down by the marsh.  I love the red stems that glow against the green.