Campus - getting ready for the Los Angeles Festival of Books, with a seagull in the middle of the semi-drained reflecting pool. I'm taking a dim view of the Festival, since they showed no interest in Flash! when I put it forward as a book that - surely, because I'm a faculty member, and also, because, well, it's readable (and even if you're not into reading, the pictures are good) - they ought to take an interest in. But, whatever. Maybe it doesn't appeal to seagulls.
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Almost every morning, the view from our living room is extraordinary; sometimes, like today, it's breathtakingly spectacular. The clouds were low and grey and rushing westwards - some ten minutes later, it was drizzling (though not for long). I'm writing a brief-ish discussion paper about painting light (in the C19th) at the moment - this photo looks as though it's trying to make a bid for inclusion.
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Flash! was given a party in English today, courtesy of David St John - seated left - and the English Department, and I was so happy to raise a glass to the book and all who'd helped launch her, in various ways - it was held in the Ide Room, where I once gave a talk that launched a number of questions that actually found their way into the finished volume in one way or another. I just wish I could have a sofa-full like the one above to party with every day ,,,
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
There's a lot going on that you can't see, here - and in fact I was a split second too late in taking this shot, since a moment earlier, the dog's head was turned the other way, barking hard at first the police car, then the ambulance that were racing up the street. Indeed, I'm much lamenting the fact that the dog isn't more in profile - it's a surprising topping to what's already a somewhat overladen bicycle.
Monday, April 16, 2018
Sometimes, on my drive to and from USC, I feel as though I'm a mutated form of paparazzi. It's not as though the objects of my lens necessarily move around a great deal: I'm sure that this junction box is still there this evening, in all its vaguely 1967ish pink and orange glory; and I'm sure it was there yesterday. But ah, the patient waiting that's necessary to have the traffic stopped at just the right place; to be able to wind down the window without any other traffic in the way; to have plausible lighting (and no, I'm not going to park the car round the corner and walk back: if I were a documentarian collecting the painted junction boxes of Los Angeles that would, of course, be a plausible option, but not just yet ...
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Saturday, April 14, 2018
No - there's nothing dramatic about these poppies - it's just great to see them again. The drama took place in the front yard, where there was another great flowering of The Poet's Wife - a beautiful pale deep yellow rose. That is - it was flowering yesterday evening, and sometime during today, all the blooms on this new bush had disappeared. Gone. Apparently cut. Someone would have had to have hopped over a low-ish fence to get them. It's hard not to take this personally, when there are plenty of extravagantly blooming rosebushes all over the neighborhood, whereas our bush was just two weeks old, and low, and had just these four or five pretty blooms.