Brick-and-Mortar Jewel Boxes

Some of the brightest gems I love in Los Angeles are its movie theaters. What could be a better tribute to the art of film than to house them in celestial-inspired shrines? The exterior facades are as alluring as the magic inside flickering on film. Embellished stone or color-encrypted light bulbs decorate what would otherwise be a normal building. "Going to the big picture show" isn't just "going to the movies." It's an entirely unreal experience: from the first footfalls approaching an exterior illuminated to a state of spectacular, to the moment we look over our shoulder, remembering a world outside our own. 

The Majestic Crest:

 

Since its opening in 1940, the Crest Theater has undergone many transformations, renamings, and remodels. Located close to the UCLA campus, the theater was known as UCLAN for a time, in concordance with the university's name at the time: University of California at Los Angeles. It has also been known as the Westwood Theater or the Westwood Crest. By the 1980s, the interior was redecorated in art-deco style, complete with a ceiling of stars. Before a show starts, a shooting star explodes across the mimic-night sky. 

Grauman's Egyptian:

The Egyptian Theater is the site of Hollywood's first movie premiere in 1922 for Robin Hood. Tickets for the opening were $5, a hefty price at the time. Showman Sid Grauman and real estate developer Charles E. Toberman built the theater, deciding on the Egyptian theme soon after plans for a Hispanic theme were already in development. Hieroglyphics paint the walls, and huge columns stand throughout, although in one ceiling section, Hispanic designs remain intact. Grauman built the world renown Chinese Theater five years after the Egyptian opened. 

The Million Dollar Theater:

Quite possibly L.A.'s oldest theater, built in 1918, is the Million Dollar Theater. It was designed by Albert C. Martin, a prominent architect at the time, and was developed by Grauman before the Egyptian was built. Carved into its stone facade are figures of bison heads and long horn skulls, in traditional Spanish Churrigueresque style. Located in Downtown, it stands across from the Bradbury building, another historic architectural landmark. When it opened, it housed 2,345 seats, one of the largest theaters in the world at the time. After refurbishing in 2008, the theater reopened and now plays shows on a special basis. 

The El Capitan Theatre:

The El Capitan originally housed live performances, instead of films. It opened in 1926 with Charlot's Revue, starring Jack Buchanan, Gertrude Lawrence, and Beatrice Lillie. Also developed by Toberman and Grauman, the theater was built across the street from Grauman's Chinese and a few blocks away from the Egyptian. In keeping with the ongoing cultural theme, the El Capitan was designed with Spanish Colonial influences. The world premiere of Orson Welles' Citizen Kane was held at the El Capitan in 1941. From 1941 to 1991 it was known by the name of the "Hollywood Paramount." It is now operated by Walt Disney Pictures.

-- Jennifer Pellerito

Photo Credit: Jennifer Pellerito

Genius Loci: L.A. in My Mind

The pictures that follow below tell L.A.'s story, in my mind. They are a collection gathered throughout my wanderings in the city, bits and pieces of a whole. The photographs represent my observations of some of the many contributing voices in the collective harmony of Los Angeles.

 

 

--- Jennifer Pellerito

Summer Sounds in Los Angeles

"Single Fins & Safety Pins" by Japanese Motors was a song I never knew I had until just today when it popped up on my iTunes shuffle. I'd probably downloaded it for free in some distant time of my musical wanderings online, and it got lost in the mix. For a moment, I considered switching the track until I listened closer to the lyrics and found that it was a song written about summer in Los Angeles. 

What I found was that the music video and lyrics replicated much of what we've talked about in class: this glamorized idea of LA, where beach babes suntan abundantly and you can "kick your shoes off and just unwind". Once outside of the clutches of congested freeways, the band members sing out their love for a carefree beach-bound summer. 

I thought the music video was funny, with its 50s-inspired glam vintage look that my generation tends to wistfully attempt to replicate. The video's got this rebel-without-a-cause feel with the band members rockin' out oceanside. Even when the waves try to overtake them, they keep on jamming, breaking guitars and mounting fury against the forces that rise against the sounds of their song. I don't quite understand why all the musical equipment need go to waste in such an unnecessary way, but some might say differently. Perhaps they are true to the spirit of Los Angeles: a distinctive voice that refuses to be suppressed. Or, they could be unfortunate perpetrators of the pretentiousness associated with L.A. and the music industry.  

Either way you see it, the song and video still merits enjoyment. Although it may not be a true representation of all our lives in Los Angeles, I can definitely appreciate the fun-loving spirit and carefree attitude on a hot, summer day at the beach that this song embodies. 

Single Fins & Safety Pins by Japanese Motors

Well I'm stuck on the 405

Red lights, traffic... I don't really dig that vibe

Trying my best to carry on

But the traffic's, no fun, in the summer

I said...so come on down

To the beach where the sun shines

Kick your shoes off and enjoy some wine

When the sun is shining in the summer

The summer time...

More the merrier, don't be a bummer

Dance like the waves of summer

Thank your momma for the summertime

The summertime

Drop your pants and grab your shades

And those single fins

Tell your girl to grab her suit

Weell come on...make it soon

We got time..the weather is fine,

To lay around all day

Hey dudes...what about that new swell

It's going to be breaking in the bay

Do you see the sun when it shines

Don't you know you can get so wild

When the sun is shining in the summer

The summertime...

More than ever, don't be a bummer,

Dance like the waves of summer

Well the sun is shining 

The summertime

I don't even know how much pain you've put me through

I just want to tell you baby

I'm giving up on you

To the beach where the sun shines

Kick your shoes off and enjoy some wine

When the sun is shining in the summer

The summertime...

Don't got a bike, you can borrow mine

You get drunk off and enjoy wine

When the sun is shining in the summertime

The summertime

-- Jennifer Pellerito

Lorena Chavez: The Sentinel

AT A university overlooking a busy metropolis, the office of Lorena Chavez breaches the gap between the city and the bluff of Loyola Marymount. A cross, a framed poem, and pottery decorate the office, coloring otherwise bare white walls. Files rest neatly secure within cabinets, and a blank table sits at the ready for her next meeting. Inside, Chavez speaks with two students, filling the room with her contagious goodwill.

Here at LMU’s Center for Service and Action, Chavez serves as the assistant director of Community Engagement. The CSA office, located at the heart of campus, is the university’s powerhouse for student involvement in some of Los Angeles’ poorest neighborhoods. As a facilitator, Chavez’s work helps bridge the divide between LMU students and the Los Angeles community through service opportunities. Throughout the past eight years, she has helped create programs to connect nonprofits with volunteers. Students have the chance to explore realms outside of LMU, gaining greater understanding of social issues and cultural dynamics existing in the city.

“Sometimes I see myself like a window screen,” Chavez said. “[I’m] screening the opportunities, and letting [in] the ones that are gonna provide students with a good learning and service opportunity.”

Alongside her work at CSA, Chavez is also completing graduate studies in a public policy administration program at California Sate Long Beach. She received her undergraduate degree in psychology in 1999 at LMU, along with a minor in business and a second minor in alcohol and drug studies. Already familiar with the university’s focus on social justice and service for others, Chavez started working at CSA just a few years after graduation. It was a dynamic environment, she said, where she could combine her academic studies with her love of understanding others.

Many nonprofit organizations contact Chavez interested in building a volunteer program. When going through the selection process, Chavez says she looks for organizations that have a purpose similar to LMU’s mission statement. She spends time researching and visiting each placement to assess its role within its community and to ensure its safety for students. When she’s not in the office, an average day for Chavez might involve driving around Los Angeles, GPS navigation in hand, checking out a potential volunteer location.

But back at the Center for Service and Action, Chavez’s work consists of a lot of communication: on the phone, sending emails, or having meetings with students or nonprofit leaders. She monitors current programs and checks-in to make sure everything runs smoothly.

“It’s not something that just happens at LMU,” Chavez said. “You’re also having interactions with an external audience, so that requires even extra care [and] attention.”

One program Chavez has worked with specifically over the years is Underwings Praxis, a campus service club. She has served as the group’s moderator since its inception in 2003. The club members volunteer at four different sites, all located in the community of East Los Angeles: Homeboy Industries, Guadalupe Homeless Project, Dolores Mission Elementary after school program, and Base Communities. Each student’s experience while volunteering contributes toward opening windows of change, breaking down barriers of misunderstanding, and diminishing prejudice. Students interact with the underprivileged, the marginalized, or the homeless – people they would otherwise never meet – and learn the complex layers of social stratification.

“Even though [Underwings] was never the thing that was on my job description, it has become a very deep part of my life,” Chavez said. Although she was not required to assist the service club, she was willing to develop a framework for the program in its first year. The founding students then asked her to be the group’s permanent moderator.

Chavez mentioned, however, that guiding a program through development is only half of the process. A successful program can only survive with the endurance of love, she said. “You can teach them how to fill out a grant application – but you can’t teach them how to love,” Chavez said.

Love of Dolores Mission, a private Jesuit elementary school, came naturally to the founding members of Underwings Praxis. They connected with it in such a powerful way that Chavez herself struggled to describe. It felt like a home to the students, a place where they belonged, she explained. “There was this very deep rooted relationship between LMU and the community, that I had nothing to do with, you know. That was just the students,” Chavez said.

From that point, three other sites were developed in East Los Angeles, shaping a volunteer program that centered on one community and the social issues it faced. Each volunteer site related to a different issue: education, homelessness, ex-gang member rehabilitation and prevention, and social awareness through group dialogue. By linking these four placements, LMU students could achieve belonging and unity with the community through their weekly volunteer work.

“To this day, I cannot find – when I look at other models of other programs that are university supported – I cannot find another model that looks like Underwings,” Chavez said. She has presented the program’s model to other university programmers at citywide conferences. Few other organizations have implemented the innovative structure that shapes Underwings.

Chavez is still a source of guidance for the club’s executive board members through weekly meetings. She mentions how much she enjoys working with college-age students, although she has mentored youths of all ages in the past. For three years she worked for the Scott Newman Center, an organization that works to prevent drug abuse through the use of education.

Working for and with others is essential to Chavez. She is a “big picture” person, as she describes herself, and must lead a life that serves a greater purpose. “I’ve been doing community work ever since I have memory,” she said. “It was just a way of life, it was just what you did, because, that was what our duty was.”

Growing up in Lincoln Heights in the 80s, Chavez attended private Catholic schools from elementary to high school. Chavez’s parents stressed the importance of education as she and her sister grew up in Los Angeles. Before immigrating to the United States from Mexico, her mother and father were unable to complete schooling there, due to the need to financially support their parents and younger siblings.

Despite the prevalence of gang violence in her hometown, Chavez said she grew up generally unaware of the surrounding conflicts. She remembers exploring in the hills of Lincoln Heights, going to carnivals in Long Beach, and playing baseball with friends. Reflecting on her childhood, Chavez recognizes the effort her parents made to shield her and her sister from the prevalent influences of drug abuse and gang involvement. Their family moved frequently to different parts of Los Angeles, leaving certain neighborhoods if the environment worsened there.

“I realized what I do has been not only a reflection of where I come from,” Chavez said. “It’s been a life of service my entire life.”

Although her work is often indirectly involved, Chavez creates programs that lift up others to places of opportunity. The students, in turn, are able to impact the lives of others. “If I am able to help you, you can help somebody else, and it keeps on going forward. Although I may never be able to meet the individuals that you touch, all the world is going to be better for it,” Chavez said. As a true fulfillment of the name Underwings, Chavez is the gush of air beneath a student’s wings; she is the unseen support in the upward flight of human understanding and compassion.

--Jennifer Pellerito

Photo Credit: TK

Observing L.A.

TWO SATURDAYS ago, I had just one short afternoon with my best friend visiting from Michigan. Time was limited, her flight was early the next morning. Where would be the best place to take her? It was overwhelming to think of the options. After much deliberation, I decided on Griffith Observatory.

There's something about it that draws me in and pulls me back again. From the structure's hilltop perch, the view is all-encompassing. We can see for miles and miles, and sometimes if the sky's clear, even the ocean's glimmer. I'm not sure why, but viewing the city from above makes it easier to understand. I can wrap my mind around Los Angeles when my eyes can capture it collectively with one glance. It's very freeing to be above a city that can sometimes feel imprisoning.

The sunlight settles in the air, creating pixels of dust as it lowers in the west. The structure's white, massive, stone walls stand solitary among tall evergreen trees. It is a building in a forest, but it is a forest in a city. In L.A., there's always layers upon layers. It can be hard to tell what really is.

We wander around the place. I am always surprised to find so many people here, at almost any hour. Exploring, learning, seeing. We follow others inside the building and learn about the science of the universe. Here, on this hilltop above the city of stars, we learn about comets, planets, and galaxies far, far away. The Tesla coil electrifies wonder around an awestruck crowd. A timeline of the Earth's existence is patterned out in galactic jewelry; diamond-studded star earrings, crescent moon pins, and sun-shaped broaches line the wall, symbolizing the evolution of our home planet.

We leave at dusk. Back outside, a line forms behind a telescope as people wait to see the moon magnified. We all find a fascination with seeing the bigger picture of our world, much like how I love seeing Los Angeles from up above. Maybe viewing our surroundings from a distance makes us feel like we belong among them. Once we are removed, the city feels more accessible. Everything seems to be within arm's length.

I return, again, to the observatory. Most people go to Hollywood to search for the stars, but the best place to find them is at Griffith Observatory.

-- Jennifer Pellarito

photo credits: top two: Jennifer Pellarito, bottom: ehpien via Flickr. 

"It Never Rains in California"

"IT NEVER rains in LA." But yesterday, it did. I haven't seen lighting or heard thunder in awhile, and it sent me shivering, although not quite in fear. At home in Michigan, I'd sit window side and watch the tallest trees sway and rain droplets fall and pierce  the soil. You can feel humidity in your lungs when it reaches 95 percent. You can see the atmosphere linger with its queasy-green heaviness. The Earth's about to sneeze.

The experience is different here in LA, and maybe that's a good thing. We all miss what we've grown up with, I certainly do; it's a pretty universal feeling of nostalgia, I suppose. But there's much to be enjoyed in walking across campus, Loyolan newspaper covering over my head, experiencing the slow drizzle that perpetuates through most of the day. Sometimes, it is nice to experience the unexpected. You can count on me to be unprepared - I've easily grown much, much accustomed to many sunny, warm days.

When it rains in LA, things flip upside-down. People get frantic. Mud slides. Hair frizzes and poofs (mine did, without fail). The walls come down. People can be caught at their worst moments. I teasingly joke with my friends that "Californians don't know how to drive in the rain" although it's started to sink into me as well. Hydroplaning, right? I fear the day I may have to face driving in the snow again...

Thank God for the rain. It's a disappointment and it's a relief. It's like a facelift for the pavement. It may grow dark and cloudy, but it's the city's best way to become brighter. The rain reminds me of home, until I remember: I am home, here in Los Angeles.


- Jennifer Pellerito

(photo credit: tanakawho via flickr creative commons)

Getting Lost: "Old School" L.A.

TODAY I got lost, again and again and again. I really don't know how the roads in LA connect the city - so far, I've only learned about half of the freeways. I was trying to avoid the places I know and have been to before - Westwood, Culver City, Venice, Santa Monica, Beverly Hills, Downtown, West Hollywood and onwards - to find some place new.

I took roads I've taken before, but I took them in a new direction. I was surprised when I found myself in Koreatown when I didn't think I was headed in that direction. Living on the Westside, it's all too easy to forget that some parts of the city can take you far away from Los Angeles, where every storefront has Korean lettering and Asian imports. It's fascinating, how so few miles separate us but yet it feels like a world away.

I admired this wonder-world from inside my car, but kept on driving. It was not until I turned down an unknown street and wound up in Chinatown that I parked and hopped out to take a look around. I'd found myself on Yale Street at Castelar Elementary School. 

I hadn't heard of it before, and it was seemingly insignificant - just another school. But through my walking I saw a "historic sign" that gives background information about the place you're at - and soon realized that Castelar was one of the first schools created in the LA school district. Suddenly, with contextual knowledge, the place I had found became more than what I had first thought.

 

Through my trip I was reminded of the beauty of culture; how although these streets and signs look dim in overcast, cloudy light, in my mind, today they seemed more vibrant than ever. It's always fascinating for me to see the ways humans have shaped their surroundings, and how their surroundings have shaped them. In this location, it was easy for me to find art or beauty at every turn, although the setting seemed particularly ordinary to those who inhabited it.

 

This unfamiliar place was unknown to me in more than one way; while I had never visited Castelar school before, I am also not of Asian descent, which set me as an outsider here. It was a pleasure to explore a culture other than my own within the city of Los Angeles, the name that unites and embodies all of us. 

Did you know LA had trolleys?? I didn't!

 One of the school's murals, viewable from the road, is called "The Party at Lan-Ting." It is LA's first mural dedicated to Asian history. It is large at 17x40 feet tall, and depicts a party scene hosted by Wan Xi-Zhi, a calligrapher from China 1,700 years ago. You can read more about it here. The mural is two-dimensional and colorful, and even decorated with costume jewels and sequins in certain parts.

 

The two pillars at the left of the mural with written explanations

I didn't know until moments later, when I got back in my car and drove a few blocks down, that I was actually very close to an area I was somewhat familiar with - Chinatown. I stopped by Homegirl Cafe for a salad and a funky green smoothie drink, and then soon headed back on my way to Loyola Marymount.  

Photo Credit: Jennifer Pellerito

Abbot Kinney's Venice by the Sea

WALKING AROURND Venice, you might stumble upon its canals. They're clustered away from the Venice boardwalk and Abbot Kinney, in a part of the city that boarders Marina del Rey. The murky green water reflects skinny palms and bristling pine trees. You might have thought you were in Italy, you might have thought you were in the oak-filled Midwest. Bumming around its pathways a few weekends ago was me, my friend, and my family.

We were wandering. Just looking around at the different architecture of the houses, some of them funky and colorful, while others were quaint and rustic, while even more others fashioned ultra-hip contemporary. No congruity. It was remarkable to see such variety - people's differing tastes while sharing the similarity of living in the Venice canals, such a iconic location. Far from the city's namesake - the original Venice, Italy - the canals reflect a similar unsteady balance between mankind's structures and the natural world. In this setting, both contribute to the other's beauty.

We walked, we walked, we walked. We stepped along in single-file down the narrow paved sidewalks next to the water. By foot, I could observe the tiny details: the symmetry of a plant, the shallow depth of the water, the insides of houses. I'd always heard of the Venice canals, but had never experienced them as of yet. It's easy to get lost in the intricate system of pathways lining the canals. It was a mini-journey, a tiny discovery in the great wide expanse of land known as Los Angeles. It's comforting to know that these pockets exist, tiny places that feel like they belong to you even if it's your first time there.

-- Jennifer Pellerito

Photo Credit: Jennifer Pellerito

Sunset's Sunset?

THE SUNSET STRIP. It's a mile and a half stretch of clubs, music venues, and restaurants. It looks, in my opinion, rather unremarkable, just more blocks of business among the many, many others in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, I don't know much music history...and it's probably for this reason that'd I'd never heard of The Rainbow Room, The Viper Room, or The Whiskey-a-Go-Go before I moved to Los Angeles.

I've learned that some of the craziest, most talented musicians have performed and made their names in these venues. It's a big deal: Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Van Halen, Motley Crue - just to name a few - have performed here. What a rush! But to walk inside? Take The Viper Room, for example. It feels rather muted. It's just another bar, really. It might even need new furnishing, and it could definitely use a bathroom upgrade. I have to remind myself that I am walking inside walls that have housed musical legends.

Thanks to my recent internship, I've been able to visit Sunset Strip on three separate occasions in the past month. Each visit has felt the same: a struggle. I was eating at a diner 0.8 miles away from The House of Blues, and I thought I'd might drive and re-park, instead of walking the barren and shady strip at night. It took twenty minutes to get from here to there, and even more time to find parking. It makes me wonder how the stars can rise here when movement is often impossible.

It's also a place I've never been to during the day. It's often unremarkable to be in a place during the daylight, but when you consistently experience a place at night, it's worth noting, isn't it? For some reason or another, the experience on the Sunset Strip would not be the same under the sun. True to its name, the only activities that should be experienced there occur at night, when the sun goes down, or much, much afterwards.

I think I've heard people say, The Strip isn't what it used to be. From what it sounds like, the Sunset Strip used to be a hub, a hip hot spot, and now it's dwindled down a bit. I'm not really sure - I'm writing in the dark (maybe I should have finished reading the WHOLE Wikipedia article instead of just scanning it before I started writing..). Sometimes I wish I could have seen it then and now - seen how it's transformed. Would I have wanted to hang out among those crowds, or would I have avoided the scene altogether?

The musicians who play there now are names I've never heard of - but I guess, maybe it's a place where everyone gets their start, before they're well known. The Sunset Strip.

-- Jennifer Pellerito
 Photo Credit: H4NUM4N via Flickr.

My L.A.: A City and Its Secrets

AFTER QUICKLY exiting the freeway, and a turn on Gless Street, I’m transported to another world. I step onto the sidewalks of Boyle Heights, pressing the pavement down. I round the corner to reach the school’s parking lot, which serves as the children’s playground after school during recess on Friday afternoons. From where I stand on the concrete playground, I see the freeway overhead in the distance and the tall pillars of downtown, so close that the buildings feel within my grasp. The church and school are painted in an off-white, warm color that absorbs the drowning sunlight of the afternoon. 

Every week, I find myself here, at Dolores Mission Elementary. It’s just for a few hours every Friday, but each visit is a brief release from the pressures of my own world. I am able to experience another part of town, escaping my own. I’d never have found this place without finding LMU first – two communities so different and yet, connected.

We play tag, we play patty-cake. The girls like to hold my hands and skip while the boys toss a basketball around their court. We encircle each other, surrounded by blurred cars on the overpass in sight, but we’re covered more so by the scarce trees in bloom. In our games of tag, the children run in a chaotic mess. I’m always “it”, and I don’t mind, even if I’m never quite able to catch anyone else. I’m continually unable to catch up to their pace. 

Their concept of normal has been so different from my own. Throughout their young lives they have known Dolores Mission Elementary School, their memories shaped inside its cement walls. They tell me of their joys – a present from the tooth fairy, or a story about their favorite movie. They tell me of their troubles – the Boogey man, and how together, we can ward him off. Diana, keychain in hand, twirls around as we sneak through the hallways. It’s all nonsensical, childish whims and worries, but somehow, these moments bring the most clarity. The children, without knowledge of their surroundings, are still children. 

I have come to Dolores Mission much like them. Raised in Michigan, I’d arrived with no knowledge of Boyle Heights and its history. It was not until later that I discovered its historical transformations, and its notoriety for gang violence. It is home to more than more than 20 gangs, and according to the Huffington Post, it is ranked 50th out of 272 Los Angeles neighborhoods in violent crime.

While I have never experienced firsthand any occurrences to support this data, it is impossible to forget the surrounding environment. It lingers in the air, heavy, without ever being seen. I imagine that one day I may be able to press my feet to the concrete and melt the cracks and crevices together to create one smooth surface, impenetrable to those who walk upon it.

Part of what makes Los Angeles the city that it is, is its ability to reveal its secrets to you subtly. A forgotten unknown location can become a home away from home. Maybe part of the beauty of this city is its slow reveal of the majestic. It keeps us waiting until, unexpectedly, we’ve learned to find magic in the ordinary.

 Photo Credit: Jennifer Pellerito

Iconic LA: Platform for Freedom

LOS ANGELES is the freeway: crisscrossing structures of concrete and steel, twisting into the transitory bliss of a momentary open road. The winding roads lead in and out of the many segregated parts of the city, connecting each through a rushing river of automobiles. Pavement cracks under the friction of mankind’s spinning wheel.                 

I could find no single part of the city that could encompass my conceptualization of Los Angeles. I racked my mind: Venice, with its murals painted across stone, Downtown’s historic core filled with fainted memories, Beverly Hills and all its glamour, Hollywood, with a star-studded walkway of the more or less famous, and East Los Angeles, a collage of tiny shops and, of course, the beloved taco stands. Undoubtedly, there is yet more for me to discover in the endless, sprawling city. In this way, the many distinct parts of Los Angeles combine to create one identity. To pick one place to represent the entire city would be impossible, for each is all too separate to describe another.

Yet despite the segregation of these areas, the layers of the city connect through the highways that run through them. From the overarching highway, my eyes capture the sight of the city’s sprawl encircled by distant mountaintops. To me, in all ways, Los Angeles is the road that is continually paved and repaved. It crumbles, and is renewed. It can be either a path to a dream fulfilled, or a road with a dead end. The life it sustains rushes and slows, whether it holds its citizens captive, or serves as their liberator.

People migrate to Los Angeles to escape and chase their dreams, seeking the opportunities unavailable anywhere else, simply because, well, it’s the City of the Stars. An open road awaits—most often at night—for the dreamers. Others, though, break against the pristine surface, victims to the daily grind, which is a continual beat upon pavement that shatters a glass-like illusion of perfection. They are stuck in a no man’s land, the road jammed between the forces of other citizens that together all say move forward.  

The highway brings the people of Los Angeles together in one circuit of flowing motion. The road may not always provide the mobility as originally imagined, much like the city’s sparkling, glamorous, but false illusion perpetuated by popular culture. The highway, much like the city itself, can be a platform for freedom, or for disappointment. There is no other place that I can imagine that might represent Los Angeles better than the roads that intertwine among such a diverse city. The city can be a morning sitting in traffic, trapped and frustrated, or it can be a night driving an exhilarating 70 MPH on an empty 405-freeway. Continually a conflict of capture and release, this is Los Angeles.

-- Jennifer Pellarito 

photos:  bossco via flickr creative commons (top), jennifer pellarito (bottom)