I have been living in Los Angeles with my family through the pandemic. There are tropical gardens, the sun shines brightly and the surfaces are unnaturally iridescent. It is not the Northeast, that soft palette, it is isolation on a different coast.
Prehistoric-looking palm trees sporadically intrude on a vast, open sky; shades of blue and green are powerful enough to stand distinct and vibrant; chaotic surfaces reflect odd images that do not hold together; at night, the pieces fracture and crack apart. The California photos are about dislocation and confinement in a large, strange place.