Hollywood, CA is a destination in and of itself. Tourists flock to the golden starred streets to seek out their favorite entertainers, down & outs pan handle for spare change, lost souls wander the boulevard in search of fame while others just go about their business; "locals" trying to navigate around the maze that is the Hollywood experience.
No matter your art taste, wall murals are everywhere. Taggers might have gang communication wars going back and forth, others are paid for their artistic interpretations.
Some might recognize the prestigious Capitol Records building with it's distinctive architectural presence on Vine Street, overlooking Hollywood Boulevard. Built in 1956, it remains a landmark for the entertainment district. Artist Richard Wyatt captured the effervescent spirit of jazz greats Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday to name just a few.
Walk a few hundred feet south and you will find yourself on the famed Hollywood Boulevard, where dreams are found with each passing inlaid golden star. Listen carefully and you can hear Ms. Holiday serenading, "If I Only Had Eyes for You".
Each artist has their own muse. For my wife, it's writing, for me, it's found behind the lens of the camera.
Before a recent trip, my wife asked if she could use one of my cameras to capture her trip to visit her Pacific Coast and also our son. Sure - why not!
Apparently, while attempting to go one block south of Hollywood Blvd, to get to a fresh produce market for our son's restaurant, Bryan told his Mom to wait, and he'd make the mad dash through the traffic. The Los Angeles Marathon had most of L.A. in a nightmar-ish maze of angered drivers behind steering wheel and honking horns. Ann stayed with the car, and Bryan took off in search of escarole and cloverfield greens.
Ann began to walk towards Hollywood Blvd. She caught some shots of the old Holloywood Playhouse on Vine, which I will publish later. But, I did enjoy her simplistic shot of the famous Hollywood & Vine marker. How many wayward dusty road dreamers have stood underneath the cross signs of Hollywood & Vine? Eyes blinded by technicolor romance with the likes of Henry Fonda, Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, Katharine Hepburn and Sophia Loren.
Ann shot this sign and described it as entrance or net of sorts to catch impetuous drama hounds, set on finding the gilded doors of Paramount or 20th Century Studios, and acting along the long road with dreams of holding Oscar in their arms one day.
Lines. Depth. Texture. Shadows. With those words in mind, the eye can analyze the subject and seek out all 4 definitions. The perk of capturing nature is the luxury of words discovered.
Ambling, rambling, gurgling and secretive, the river runs below winter's blanket, awaiting spring's thaw.
As March slowly exits, the Rocky Mountains are beginning to show signs of the season of blooms, bursting sun showers and fragrant aromas. April is just a daydream away and before long the sun's heat will renew life in abundance.
Dance with joy, the songs of the heart rejoice and the skin feels the magic which the sun delivers with resounding strength.
Nothing is more iconic of the true western town than horses in the middle of the main thoroughfare, snowy streets and a marketing dream in the background of Mt. Werner.
Steamboat takes on an unique feel and look about it in mid February. The yearly, "Winter Carnival" draws tourists from all over the world, and also drags the winter weary locals from all 4 corners of the county to the center of town for a weekend of fun and festivities.
Nothing shouts western life or ski town, U.S.A. more than sitting on a large snow shovel being dragged behind a horse, tearing down Lincoln Avenue at heart stopping 40 m.p.h. No wonder most sane contestants wear a ski helmet for the event.
Later in the evening, the frivolities move over to Howelson Hill where daring souls light a gasoline infused ring with a match and ski jumpers toss common sense and inhibitions to the wind and hurtle themselves down the 60 meter ski jump through an arsonist's wet dream...a fully engulfed hula-hoop and into the dark night air. Usually, liquid bravery is the catalyst for such an event. Maybe the same could be said for the sit & spin shovel surge earlier in the day.
John captured quite a few images from that day, but I felt that the essence of the western town could be felt from seeing the group of horses, standing around; cowboys in saddles, and the iconic picture of the ski hill.
I am grateful that John did not get some crazy, "I am invincible moment" and take to a shovel behind a horse. My obvious question being, "What is the horse poops"?
Hiking is a solitary experience. Some trekkers are seeking solitude, some are searching for their own personal nirvana. How do we leave our mark as we ramble along the path? A footprint, perhaps?
On a recent trip to Zion National Park, my wife and I made our way to the Emerald Pools. Along the way, we came upon an altar of sorts, consisting of rock cairns. All shape, sizes, heights - each one constructed by a hiker who passed along the way, adding their own personal touch. My wife and I found this to be a wonderful display of group efforts; each rock a solitude statement, coming together for one purpose. Who knows what idea came across each hiker as they walked along the path and came upon the table of rock statutes.
Whatever the reason, this unique piece of art piqued the imagination of nature's lovers, and each rock represented someones imagination and search for independence, albeit through a group effort. Native Americans used rocks to communicate and placement of rocks was a way of communicating a greater message.
What do these rock cairns say?
