Love Letter to Los Angeles
Fall of 2017, I moved to Los Angeles with just my art studio from New Orleans to DTLA, while I lived in Venice, CA with my cousin for 3 months before I found an apartment in Hollywood, where I lived for 5 years before moving to Virgil Village. (My life as a run-on sentence.)
In 2018, I did an artist residency in the Mojave National Preserve in the middle of the summer for an authentic desert experience. I wandered the desert alone for a month learning the landscape and making art. I learned so much about myself and the extremes of that environment. I always knew I’d find my way back into the desert.
I have immense gratitude for my time in L.A.
People, places, ideas, coincidences, transiences and heritage.
I’m lucky to have found a core group of friends that I relate to with depth in a city that lives so much on the surface.
A city that prides its vanity, technology, science and (most thankfully) humanitarian rights.
What drew me to California was not necessarily those things.
Geology is a love language for me. I come from a place built on thousands of years of silt deposits along the Mississippi River. A place that feels culturally old, yet geologically very young. The reverse is true for California. Rock formations millions of years old, gemstones, fault lines, bedrock, and ore. So many minerals readily available in the soils of California. Lousiana, on the other hand, has no bedrock. No minerals. No gemstones. The most mineralized offerings of the Gulf of Mexico in its’ super saturated soils are oyster shells.
And yet, California culturally is very young (native tradition not included). L.A. community rituals wax and wane. Hell, historic buildings are constantly demolished to build new ones. Higher technology and design with higher property taxes. The texture of the past is always sanded away and painted over for more money.
In the beginning, it was an exciting adventure with red flags I should have heeded but the karma always seemed to balance. The apartment I moved into in Hollywood had some haunted history and I witnessed the makings of more when a neighbor fell to her death (suicide) in our courtyard about 10’ from my bedroom (with the windows open). For weeks, I felt a presence in that tiny space. Even Niko (my dog) followed me around the 300 square foot room until I had a conversation with the spirit and told her she had to move on. The same day she died, I was invited to be in the first annual We Rise art and music festival raising awareness for mental health. Twilight Zone vibes.
Other such occasions that carry the same karmic trend: My car was towed full of artwork the night before an art fair. Someone had removed the tow zone sign so I didn’t know my Jeep was in danger. When I plead my case to the city worker, he empathized, split the tow bill with me and we actually became friends. On other occasions, my Jeep was broken into with the windows shattered and nothing missing because all there was was rocks and animal bones in the vehicle. Lol Probably spooked ‘em.
L.A. introduced me to authentic friends who healed childhood wounds. I’ve worked with genuine people who continue to influence me. Lots of art. I met some of my heroes. Fell in love. Had my heart broken. Got a second dog. …And every year, I’ve made at least one journey to the desert to reconnect with source. Now the balance is tipping in the opposite direction.
I’m at a point now with my health, where my nervous system can no longer exist in the city with the inherent vibrations and constant noise of leaf blowers, helicopters, ambulances, fire trucks, and yelling. I have to focus on the things that make me feel better and environment is very important for me right now.
Special Thanks to my friends Pony, Ann and Tim for helping me mobilize.
photos by Eric Minh Swenson