Echo Park – Elle Rasmussen stood between The House of Spirits and the burrito stand on Echo Park Avenue. Her guitar playing was unaccompanied by any amp, so the acoustic notes had to make do with traffic, people chatting on the street and the rest of the neighborhood. But Miss Elle, as she had painted on her guitar case, sang on, and her voice lingered between the pauses. It was the softest voice in the city at the moment, what with a music festival drumming up its own sounds down the street, but it was Miss Elle’s soft notes that lingered like falling feathers. It’s ridiculous what sonic vibrations can accomplish. Godspeed, Elle.
Echo Park – Summer music festivals can be tiring. I have at least a thousand shots from the three-day weekend. I’ll be sorting through those for some time, and wondering, “Why did I take this? These are horrible.” In the meantime these are some of the photos that accompanied the story that ran with my article over at The Eastsider LA.
Highland Park – Animal print reminds me of my grandmother. Few women understand this embellishment in their ensemble. It could be construed as gauche, the neon of leopard print, saturated stripes. Others happen upon the animal print and it carries them through the streets, it makes them appear as though they were always in charge of their domain, and no question was ever left unasked in their life.
I approached this woman on York Boulevard in front of a super market. She was lugging her purse and a shopping bag. I introduced myself and asked her for a photo while complimenting her sense of fashion. She said yes and just as quick she began to walk away. As though it were a normal thing to have your photo taken by a stranger. I offered to send her a print, but she said it wouldn’t be necessary. She knew exactly how she looked.