this weekend i was at a friend’s house in the center of dirty, grimy hollywood. just hanging out and drinking tea a couple of hundred yards from the center of the grimiest parts of grimy hollywood.
but: my friend’s house feels like a graham greene inspired vision of the phillipines circa 1947.
the house is so flawlessly covered in/surrounded by plants that i actually don’t really know what the house looks like, except that it’s really beautiful. it would be beautiful almost anywhere, but the fact that it’s hidden a few hundred yards from the grimiest of grimy hollywood makes it even more magical.
millions of people go stumbling by, looking for drugs or tshirts or henry winkler’s walk of fame star or sushi or souvenir portraits with crack addicted spiderman or whatever it is people look for in the center of hollywood. and a few feet away are tiny streets filled with bucolic houses and exploding tropical plants.
how many people driving or walking through grimy hollywood have any idea that there are cute and grand and beautiful old houses just a few yards away? i’m guessing, presumptuously, not many.
oh, the pictures are in color. i know, heresy.
so, here are more pictures of gritty urban l.a squalor at it’s grittiest.
as i’ve said, 99% of what’s remarkable about l.a is hidden in almost plain sight.