There’s something wrong with me… well yes, many things, but for now one in particular. The day I drove into LA, I went straight to Compton, and then Watts, looking to photograph the worst these places had to offer. These are among the most dangerous places in the LA area, and the US, and I go straight to the worst spots there. I found several places – places that made me drool, and made me daydream of what I could do with them… a sort of virtual redecorating with light and perspective (and a vague, other dimension). I thought of them frequently, and then mentioned them to the people who ended up watching my back, in other parts of the city, while shooting during the next couple of days. None of them had any interest in venturing into the worst part of Compton at night to spend an hour or two getting a shot.

How can I blame them? Of course I can’t.

This brings me back to my initial question. Whats wrong with me? Am I insane? suicidal? naive?

I grew up in Montreal, Canada. It’s a city with a vast and diverse alley system. I would spend many nights with friends on weekends, drunk (etc) just exploring these mysterious and endlessly alluring architectural after-thoughts. They became portals to a world where you could create its own past, present and future. You could take the worst of today, and make it the best of today. These times are burned deep in my memory. But Montreal is not Los Angeles. Montreal is a big city (pop. 2 million), but its not ravaged by gang violence and murder and poverty and desperation.

So I could be a naive country bumpkin of sorts. Maybe I can’t envision properly what it is to get clobbered by a gang of thugs. There’s some truth in this. I just don’t know… One thing is certain: I have a crazy thirst for seeing, and being in, awful desperate, apocalyptic places and then turning them around with my camera. And this thirst overrides any possible danger.

Today, my sherpa backed out. He developed a bad head cold and so couldn’t be with me, shooting awful desperate places. I tried to fill his spot with calls and emails, but no luck. So my first thought was: “Well okay, now I get to shoot the Compton spots no one wanted to help with.” But this isn’t what happened. Maybe age is making me afraid. Instead I scoured other promising areas and found some incredible locations. Today, I will try to find some back up. I’m excited. I’m already drooling with visions of what might be.

Peace…

Daisy (2002)