We reined in a Mustang convertible to take us from San Francisco, to Fresno, San Diego and back through Big Sur. Like any tour, I am still collecting myself now that I am back in New York. I have so many lovely memories and more freckles. In short, I was invigorated by the work of Mark Bradford at SFMoMA, affected by the lifelong dedication it takes to conjure a cool underground oasis from a plot of hard pan at Forestiere Gardens and relish San Diego's most Spanish/Baroque parts. So now I am on an Early California kick, reading Brassai's account of Henry Miller's Paris years, editing photographs and hoping to replicate life Deetjen's style.
