Here in Olympia, it seems as though the year was suddenly late. It is always dusk, and the leaves are changing color. I’ve seen the sun maybe three times in two weeks. It’s still novel; I’m enjoying the running in cool weather and for the first time in years I can walk around without sunglasses during mid-day. The Northwest seems to be swathed in green, even now. Moss is growing out of every crack in the sidewalk. I took these shots on my way to the grocery store to make color studies and some palettes for web design. The water is Tumwater Falls. There was a mill there or something I guess, the foundation channels a flow into itself without reason now. I can’t believe the reds shouting out of leaves.

I won’t lie: I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to moving to the Northwest. Not that I’ve got such love of LA; for the last four years I felt like I was living in a parking lot. But rain and fog and chill defined the images of Washington state and I wasn’t sure I would find it as lovely as say, Monterey, where I also considered going to school. A great financial aid package won out and I was on my way to Olympia.

We took a week, myself and a friend, driving up the coast and camping along the way. The second to last park was this: Sunset Bay State Park in Oregon. It was the best of the parks we stayed at. The nearby fishing village of Charleston had a shop where we bought an enormous chunk of fresh albacore, and everyone in town sold firewood. The showers at the campground were hot, and the site was relatively private, surrounded by a high hedge. We went hiking a bit, but the highlight was an excursion at low tide to see the tide pools around the point. We were smothered in mist and edged by crashing surf. The colors here were amazing. Subtle orange and plum hues contrasting with greys and the wall of dark green forest. It was absolutely beautiful. I decided I might like living around here.

This post is dedicated to the Mann Festival Theater in Westwood: the first time I saw it, I knew I should have got a picture. The next time I saw it, it was dark. The entire facade was made not just with neon, but rows of lightbulbs. It must have cost a fortune to illuminate, but I’ll never forget the effect. The Crest looked a little worse for wear when I was shooting. Half the marquee wasn’t lit; let’s hope it’s not the beginning of the end. The Nuart is a bit down the road on Santa Monica, but I included it with these as I shot it on the same jaunt.

My brother prefers the Getty Villa. He feels the space here is too large, too modern, overwhelming. I didn’t get through a quarter of the collection myself and I was exhausted. Still, I’m inclined to think that with return visits, I’ll come to consider this locale familiar. The architecture was impressive, not just for line and scale, but detail: every knob, every light fixture, every step was considered. I had a great week for comparative architecture, what with a trip to Santa Barbara for the mission and all, and I must say the Getty stands up with the best of them. One thing mentioned in conversation with my sister is modern architecture in form and scale might be reference history, and imbue our experience with the awe of those ancient spaces. The Getty in particular tends toward the classical, in spite of the dramatic curves on so many postcards. There are proportions and symmetries positively Hellenistic to my eye, and in the light of an autumn afternoon, the site felt graceful and eternal.

These people really know their water features. From ponds to puddles, the wet stuff was well done. Special appreciation for the rocks in the brook going down the slope: the scale and placement referenced traditional Japanese gardens, but the rough cut blocks gave a modern feel. Gorgeous. Another aspect of the landscape I enjoyed was the interplay between very formal, symmetric and heavily pruned areas contrasting native plants or cottage-style loose beds. I wish I could afford a Calder in my yard.

I took so many photos at the Getty last week that I’ve actually broken them into multiple posts. The collection was boggling. I can’t remember the last time I saw so much good art in one place. I really must look at more British watercolors. Even some of the romantic paintings I would’ve pooh-poohed as kitsch in my younger days stopped me. You know, it’s so rare to see a large painting these days. The physical presence of such a thing is lush. I wish I had more photos of the paintings, but the sculptures were easier to photograph since the museum doesn’t allow tripods, not even my mini. Kudos to the kindly security guard who offered to let me use his shoulder. I really do want a camera with stabilization. One of my favorites of the exhibits were two busts titled ‘ Ideal Female Head’; I was trying to focus on the tag but didn’t have enough resolution.

My parents scooped me up and drove me to Santa Barbara last week. Part of me was sweating my school work since my sister had been in town already for a week and I blew two tests on Saturday, but I went along anyway after finishing my database homework. And boy was I glad I did. I can’t remember the last time I was away and so free. The food and wine was wonderful, and we toured the mission and the courthouse at a leisurely pace. At neither location was I hassled for having a tripod. The photos in the church were long exposures, about 2 or 3 seconds, with a timer. I can see the noise on some of the zooms; my camera is only 4 mp, heck, there’s phones better than that nowadays. Still I was glad to have it. You can see all the shots on my Flickrpage.

Cruisers only

My sister is visiting from Iowa, and she and her husband are staying in a motor lodge just a few blocks from the beach in Venice. Every afternoon they go walk along the beach and admire the seaside and novel culture. It is good, actually. Sometimes too crowded. I know I sound like one of those despised cycle jerks when I say the pedestrians on the bike path are a problem. From Santa Monica to Newport, even if the path is clearly marked as bicycles only, it’s clotted with stumbling fools. Some places have a ten mile an hour speed limit. I just take the PCH and admire the seaside from the path. Glad to see some folks enjoy it though.