I had always been fascinated with the story of the apartments: they were designed by great midcentury architect Rudolph Schindler for a family in the 1930s, so they could rent out the remaining units and have financial security. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that I knew the identities of the family who currently resided within those walls. And as I discovered as I spent the day with filmmaker Joe DeMarie and his wife Madeleine Brand (who you may know from the public radio show that bears her name), they bought and lovingly restored the property for the very same reasons: to give their children a great place to grow up, and also ensure their future.

But it’s what happened between those two families, in a story that spans over 60 years, that’s absolutely amazing. Head over to Dwell to read my story “Self Preservation.” And thanks to Joe and Madeleine for their passion and dedication to keeping this little corner of Silver Lake history alive.

Top photo by Jessica Haye and Clark Hsiao

1. Every neighborhood in LA should have some kind of sign like this.

2. That reminds me, I’ve been wanting to do this project where I take photos of people taking photos of themselves in front of the Hollywood sign.

3. Style Tip: If you want to look like a celebrity, put your hands in your pockets.

More photos.

There has been a lot of ink (pixels?) spilled lately on this idea that we’re so obsessed with Tweeting, Facebooking, Instagramming the important moments of our lives that we’re not actually living them. NY Times technology reporter Nick Bilton recently wrote about fiddling with his iPhone to capture a gorgeous sunset, then realizing that he couldn’t simply appreciate the sunset without trying to share the experience with his social networks.

Bilton was so distressed by this that he made a 2012 resolution to go without his iPhone for at least 30 minutes a day, a goal that seems so ridiculously attainable I’m frightened for his well-being. He only has to be without his phone for 30 minutes? How about restricting iPhone use to only 30 minutes a day?

I don’t have as much trouble detaching from my phone (although I do take it everywhere), but I’ve been wrestling with this concept that documenting has to come at the expense of enjoying. When I see something incredible, I make a flash decision. I either flick my phone into camera mode or plunge into my purse for my camera, which is sometimes—often—already around my neck. (Sometimes I do both, camera in one hand, phone in the other.) If I’m walking, I definitely have to stop. I admit to dancing around trying to get the best angle. It changes the experience for sure. But do I miss it? Not at all. Having the photographic evidence of that memory is totally worth that second or two I spent deciding how to capture it. And yes, sharing is important, I guess. But I share mostly because I want to work through what the images mean to me. And writing a Tweet or posting it to my blog is how I do that. It’s like processing the moment.

I was trying to put this all in words for the last few weeks. But who would have guessed that Charles Eames said it more beautifully than I ever could have—50 years ago? When, I might add, it took a heck of a lot more time and effort to make a photograph.

You can see this illustrated quote, among others, at Eames Words, a show at the A+D Museum which has just been extended until February 20. Yesterday co-curator Andrew Byrom graciously gave de LaB a tour of the exhibition, and it’s absolutely fantastic. Of course, I took plenty of photos.

Lovely Golden Hour strolling on Sunset. I didn’t even mean to crop it that way, I swear.

More Street Walking.

Remember those slow walks I was doing for my fellowship? I did one in my neighborhood today that I just had to share.

I like having rules for these walks. Today for some reason I challenged myself to take all vertical photos. Here’s a hibiscus.

The great pine arches of Lucile. It seriously feels like you’re marching into an English garden.

With the gargoyles across the street to match.

Glittery, slowly swaying palms.

Amber waves of grain. Actually pampas grass.

Gargantuan citrus. I think these are pomelos.

It seems like an overly obvious sign, no? I also like how this looks like the end of a dusty desert road.

I noticed lots of new street art in the neighborhood. Like this pole man.

It’s raining… fish?

It’s like an earthworm. With teeth.

Girl on a bike (but sadly with no face) at my new local bike shop.

So much color coordination going on here. An apartment building after my own heart.

Sunset Boulevard, the Hollywood sign, palm trees, a 99-cent store, drivers, walkers, bikers and a helicopter… I think I just took the quintessential LA photo.

And for a finale, the glint of the Pacific Ocean from my street.

More photos.

Christmas never really ends in LA. It just relocates to the sidewalk for a few months.

More photos of post-holiday LA.

It was a crazy few days here. Many of my friends still do not have power or water, 48 hours after 100 mile-per-hour winds whipped through our hills.

We didn’t have any damage, just a nice new dusting of nature’s confetti on our curb.

There were some losses, like our neighbor’s banana trees that snapped in half.

Further down the street, ripe avocados pelted a driveway like hail.

But mostly, the storm just left a mess.

In some cases, a really, really big mess. I hope all my friends are warm and safe back at home soon.

I love my colorful, strange, diverse, complicated, messy, beautiful city.

More photos from LA.

Because sometimes you see Jon Lovitz. That’s him in the blue shirt. And matching blue shoes. I probably would have noticed him anyway, even if it wasn’t for the guy from TMZ who was standing on the corner shouting “Ladies and gentlemen, Jon Lovitz!” It was all I could do not to ask Hanukkah Harry for “socks, three pair!”

But sometimes it just happens.

More street-wise photos.