Since I spent the last holiday in Indiana, and all of summer, I went to California for the winter break. We drove through LA, through OC, and through the desert. We spent New Year's in Palm Springs, drinking champagne and revealing in having privacy at last. I was struck by California-- all I missed about it and all that made me want to leave. One thing that stood out for me was the desert itself, something I have missed the most.
Last spring, I showed my Indiana students an image by Gary Winogrand, taken in the southwest (not California, but similar landscape). I asked them to describe the image in detail. "There is a child, about two, only wearing a diaper..." would be a typical answer. When they got to the landscape, the descriptions became: "The landscape is barren, lifeless, " "nothing is alive," "there is a storm coming," "desolate," "isolated." And while these descriptions might all be true, they pained me.
I missed that landscape. The barren, lifeless, desolate, isolated landscape. But it is a dramatic landscape. The mountains cut out of the ground like teeth. The sand forms perfect topographical maps of the wind. Going to a place where you can see from horizon to horizon and the road is a straight line. It is tempting to shoot past it, ignore it, turn up the radio and the air conditioning to block it out. But there is a geological symphony outside that window! There is a hardy and hidden ecosystem of astounding age and dexterity! You have to plan to live in the desert. You can't just show up and expect your needs to be handed to you. The desert does not take Visa or Mastercard in exchange for water and shelter. You have to bring them.
Anyway, it was awesome.
Last spring, I showed my Indiana students an image by Gary Winogrand, taken in the southwest (not California, but similar landscape). I asked them to describe the image in detail. "There is a child, about two, only wearing a diaper..." would be a typical answer. When they got to the landscape, the descriptions became: "The landscape is barren, lifeless, " "nothing is alive," "there is a storm coming," "desolate," "isolated." And while these descriptions might all be true, they pained me.
I missed that landscape. The barren, lifeless, desolate, isolated landscape. But it is a dramatic landscape. The mountains cut out of the ground like teeth. The sand forms perfect topographical maps of the wind. Going to a place where you can see from horizon to horizon and the road is a straight line. It is tempting to shoot past it, ignore it, turn up the radio and the air conditioning to block it out. But there is a geological symphony outside that window! There is a hardy and hidden ecosystem of astounding age and dexterity! You have to plan to live in the desert. You can't just show up and expect your needs to be handed to you. The desert does not take Visa or Mastercard in exchange for water and shelter. You have to bring them.
Anyway, it was awesome.
New Year's Eve, we stopped at such a spot, on such a road. The land rolled with the washes of water from the infrequent rains. I aimed the camera to the sky, and four minutes later got this. Not long after that, we heard the pack of coyotes and rain back to the car, laughing and screaming into the night where only the stars could hear us.
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