Post-millennial mime

5July 2015 – Yes, the neighborhood of Highland Park has changed. Little girls performing pantomimes, during a neighborhood art walk, would have bordered on ridiculous 10 years ago.

The girl’s mother allowed me to take the picture, wanted me to know that her daughter had recently become fascinated with the art form. They were busking – asking for donations. People quickly walked by as the act went on.

Here she just released a bird, and if you didn’t know any better, you would swear it was out of frame.

Villa Sombrero

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Highland Park, May 2015 – Film
When I asked her for a picture she laughed, and continued laughing, until I held the camera up. Then she froze and became rigid. Her laugh abruptly cut off and then resumed after the picture was taken as though there were a skip on the record.

 

 

A Winter Quest For Fantasy

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Highland Park, April 2015 – Afternoon represents warmth to Don, sitting under a tree next to the parking lot where the Chinese restaurant had to close due to health code violations. Don’s just about blind. He takes money and holds it close to his face to read the amount.  His excitement comes out in a hoarse holler, as though the money hurts his fingers. Don mentions that money gets you a ticket to Jack in the Box.

Says he wants to leave California for a score up in Kansas or Colorado. The location is always changing. Mentions money buried in a field or snug between two rocks somewhere far away.

Here lives the iconoclast

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Hermon, Los Angeles 2015

Homer Simpson was once a sacred cow. But the generation who ate/wore/quoted Simpson’s merchandise are now disillusioned adults. The gravitas associated with Homer and Bart is equal to an older generation’s reverence for Mickey Mouse, Bugs Bunny or Calvin & Hobbes. Those mascots of yesterday represented endless summers, smiling avatars of youth.

Inside this garage Homer is an act of vandalism and a work of art. To the owners it’s a headache. Those who grew up with The Simpsons will have countless hours of reference to the character. Saxamaphone is holy. To some children Homer Simpson was the one constant in their lives, perpetually syndicated, always reliable in his never-changing gags.

But here, sprayed on the walls, lives the iconoclast. The past generation did not worship money or God. It was D’oh. Always and forever D’oh. Homer is Dead. Long Live Homer.

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