Contemplating art while sipping coffee through an ashy orange haze
It's a beautiful day in LBC, but it's bittersweet.
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California is always on fire, but not like this
In the Autumn of 1993, my roommate Sean and I sat on our apartment balcony in Huntington Beach, CA, enjoying a few beers in the Indian summer weather. A day earlier, a wildfire broke out in the hills of what is now called Newport Coast, about twenty miles away.
We were talking about the fire because his parents lived in a neighborhood that was at risk and had been evacuated. It was a clear night, and because of our vantage point, I could see a thin yellow-orange line on the horizon south of us.
“Do you think that’s the fire?”
He went into his room to grab his binoculars, but it was tough to discern because of some trees and buildings in our way, so we hopped up on the roof of the apartment to get a better view.
Looking through the binoculars again, it was clearly fire on the distant hillside, and we could faintly make out the shape of the flames licking their way upward. Astonished, I thought if we could see the fire that well from 20 miles away, what must they look like up close? I imagined walls of fire 50+ feet cutting through the dry brush and trees until it hit the homes of Laguna Beach.
At the time, the Laguna Fire was the largest the state had seen, but it didn’t feel real until I saw the destruction firsthand. Even still, that event was not even close to the devastation happening in Los Angeles this week.
I’ve spent the last few days doom-scrolling Instagram for all the fire and brimstone porn, including some absolutely stunning artistry. As tragic as the fires are, the golden glow is an almost beautiful juxtaposition against the landscape of the beaches and ocean of the South Bay.
I’ve also seen amazing art from people across the LA basin expressing their fears, anxiety, and heartfelt sorrow in many ways, some uncharacteristically different in style and motif from the artist’s regular work.
My current favorite work (If that’s even the proper thing to say about art informed by disaster) is by Yossi Shamrik (@thisisnotaloop) in a carousel post he shared inspired by his time in LA and these current events.
I’ve wanted to do the same: make art that expresses my feelings about what it feels like to be just outside of LA, safe from the blazes yet still directly connected to the tragedy through others. However, I feel empty for inspiration.
I don’t know how to visually express my thoughts right now. I feel like an onlooker with opinions but no solutions, and it hurts because I’m, by nature, an advocate and protector. When my skill is art, I want to use that to capture the moment, but I stare at a blank canvas, not knowing how to piece anything together.
Perhaps I’m being too hard on myself for not having the right muse. The inspiration will come eventually, but it’s frustrating being stuck, especially I am free to move about my home and neighborhood at will while others have no home to move around or be static in.
Side Note: My former roommate and friend also had a terrible fire scare just a couple of months ago; not nearly as bad as the current situation, but nonetheless scary, I’m sure. Fires and earthquakes are always a California reality, and the tragedies do not seem to be dissipating.
I saw a post on Threads from a fellow Long Beach local expressing their condolences for our LA County brethren. People in the LBC will go out of their way to tell you how we are not LA. We are our own vibe and often keep to ourselves in conversations about what’s good about Los Angeles, but in times like these, we are all LA.
This is not the end of us.
In deed it is but I'm glad you're safe!