About a year and a half ago my sis moved to Southern California. Long Beach to be specific. I got a chance to visit her this past November. It was a trip I was really looking forward too. It was great to see her, her awesome place and new roommate. I got a behind the scenes tour of OBEY clothing and walked away with a badass Obama poster, yeah that Obama poster. But if anything the trip pretty much confirmed, I belong on the East Coast.On paper, California sounds like the place I am destined to live -- the center of the movie world, rockabilly/hot rod culture, and LA punk. I was exicted and worried my feet would hit the ground and I'd instantly feel the need to pull up roots in NYC and head west.
I really underestimated California. That's what it comes down to. I had a ton of places I wanted to check out, and failing to contemplate the sheer size of the state, was only able hit up about a quarter of them. Everything they say about LA traffic is true. It sucks hard. There is no parking, anywhere. No stopping on the side of the road to snap off a shot. Find a parking space, dig for quarters, pay for a half hour when you only need a minute or two. Lame. And if there are no cars coming, why do I have wait twenty minutes to cross the street?? Jaywalking, it's a beautiful thing. Learn to love it.
But I'm whining. There was alot of great stuff. I spent a ridiculously nerdy amount of time at the Griffiths Observatory. Partly for the Rebel Without a Cause thing, partly for the astromony thing. I mean I got look at the moon through a giant telescope, so totally worth it.
Second day there, my sis and I attended the Deadman's Drive Custom Car Show on the Long Beach Docking slips. More pompadours, cuffed jeans, and Betty Page bangs than I have ever seen in one place. As close to heaven on earth as it can get for me. Most of the pics in the post are from the show. Met some great people including the Faraway Boys, an awesome rockabilly band my sis used to live next to. I could shoot there every weekend that would be just fine
Two days later I would return to said Long Beach docks with less than favorable results, in the form of Homeland Security. You'd think a major shipping port and obvious center of national secruity would have some kind of gates or signage delineating off limit areas. Not so. I came across an old two lane unmarked road. My photographic curiousity kicking in, I set forth follow it to the end. About ten minutes later I arrived at large open lot the size of a football field. At the end of it, a full scale oil tanker and lone patrol car marked "Homeland Security." The way I see it I have two choices: drive up for a closer look at the tanker and a friendly wave to the patrol gaurd or chill for a minute, turn around and head out. I opt for the second. In three seconds the Homeland Security car is on my ass, pulls me over and is soon followed by two San Pedro PD patrol cars - lights a flashin'.
They each individually question me. I assume to make sure my story checks outs in all instances. It's when they ask for my ID and papers that the gravity of the situation takes hold of me. I'm driving my sisters car, with my NJ driver's license though I live in NYC, and no clue as to the whereabouts of the requested insurance registration. Plus the large amount of camera gear in the back seat. I find all the necessary documents, offer to show all of the photos on my DSLR and insist I hadn't shot any film yet. They continue to question me. I get pulled out of the car and show one officer the shots on the DSLR. I compliments me on my photoraphic talent and instructs me to delete the files. I do so and he informs me that basically I am being released because the pics seemed to have had some sort of artistic sensibility so I'm probably not a reconnaissance terrorist and arresting an tourist is not good PR. They follow me back to the Long Beach City line.
A few days later, after a session with Twisted Visions tattooist Evan Lovette, I find myself back at the Long Beach docks. We're driving around looking for a good place to grab a portrait shot. We find some tagged reefer cars on the side of the road. We pull over, beneath a white sign with green writing marked "2hr parking." I position him for the camera as I see the flashing lights out the corner of my eye. We explain we're just taking a couple of pics. I hand over the camera and hope he doesn't ask for ID and run the plates as something regarding the previous day's events would come up. He browses through the pics and lets us go.
The highlight of the trip however was catching a double feature screening of George A. Romero's Season of the Witch & The Crazies at The Silent Theatre in LA. One of my girl's close friends works there and got us in for free. It is a movie nerd paradise. I can only wish for a place like this in NYC.
Enjoy.
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