Last year, Weschler revisited that subject in a video created by the New Yorker. You can watch it here.
I was reminded of that piece this morning while walking in Venice: a woman in a white gauze shirt and skinny jeans stepped out of the shade of a colonnade into the light, and it was like an angel being touched by the light of heaven.
Okay, perhaps I exaggerate—but really: she did seem to glow. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Life was beautiful.
|Ocean Park, No. 67 (1973)|
I also think of the British artist David Hockney, who lived in L.A. in the 1960s and continues to maintain a residence and office here. The place performed a different sort of magic than his Yorkshire home, and some of that was in the light.
Me, I took some photos today, inspired in part by the light here. It's not easy, perhaps not even possible, to capture that light. You pretty much have to be here and exist within its shimmer to appreciate it. But here are those shots (all of which I messed with to some degree).
|The view from our hotel window|
|Santa Monica Pier and bike path|
|Bike path under Santa Monica Pier|
|Pacific Park ferris wheel|
|Pacific Park game|
|Ashland Avenue rest station|
|Palm trees everywhere, and everywhere shadows|