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

The sun sets a bit differently out in Crested Butte compared to the typical view out my studio window. Back to my normal warm-weather programming tomorrow.

More photos.

Based on how they spent their weekend, I think it’s safe to say that my parents are really excited we’re getting married.

Those are red peppers for her lips, by the way.

Update: Due to last night’s blizzard, the snowbride is now wearing a fashionable veil.

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.

If you remember a few months back, I posted about a very exciting new grant I received from a new creative placemaking foundation called ArtPlace. Getting a grant is at once an exhilarating and terrifying thing, as you are basically handed a very large check up front then you have to actually do things! In this case, we been charged with coordinating five big events featuring five creative teams solving five urban challenges proposed by five civic leaders in five different cities in the first six months of 2012 (yes, it’s like I’m planning SIX weddings this year). But the whole process has been exceptionally smooth, thanks to our great partners like CEOs for Cities and all the amazing people who have been helping us on the ground in our first two cities.

And speaking of those cities! We’re excited to announce that GOOD Ideas for Cities will be in Portland on February 16 and St. Louis (my hometown!) on March 8. Details for the Portland event have been posted, and I’m really looking forward to what I know will be a very entertaining evening talking about the city’s future. I’m also excited because we’re launching a student program that night in partnership with Portland State University’s Department of Graphic Design, thanks to professor Nicole Lavelle. The student will be working on their own solutions to Portland’s problems and presenting them at a separate event in March. We’ll have an event page for the St. Louis event soon, but that will be held at the Contemporary Art Museum and we’ve got some pretty awesome surprises planned for the evening.

We’re about to announce the next two cities and we’re very excited about those as well. You can stay up to date by following @IdeasforCities for updates. Here’s more about GOOD Ideas for Cities, and we’re always looking for new opportunities—let me know if you have an idea for where we should bring the program next!

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

More Street Walking.

You might know that I am the co-host of an event series called design east of La Brea, or de LaB. We like to feature designers, architects, artists and various other urban instigators who are working, making and experimenting—you guessed it!—east of La Brea, one of the major north-south streets that bisects LA.

When my co-founder Haily Zaki and I were deciding on de LaB’s name in 2007, we knew we wanted to focus on the east side of LA. Not only because we were sick of hightailing it out to Santa Monica for all the architecture events, but also because we felt there was so much more interesting stuff happening over on the east side—activity that wasn’t necessarily on the radar of well-funded design organizations. Plus, the west side of LA seemed to have plenty of money to hold sleepy panel discussions and nicely catered receptions. The east side had less resources for big events, yet had so much enthusiasm for any kind of community-building activity.

However, we chose the demarcation line of La Brea rather randomly. I lived between Highland and La Brea at the time, so of course I wanted to count myself on the “good” side. And if you look at a map of the entire 500-square-mile city of Los Angeles, La Brea does fall at the physical midway mark. But it was honestly more of a gut reaction than anything—there’s something about crossing over parts of La Brea that, to me, just feels like you’re rolling into a different part of the city. Scrappy vs. established, maybe. And amazingly, that one little decision has been a serious point of contention. People honestly pull us aside and tell us why it actually should be design east of Vermont or design east of Highland. de Ver? de High?

But I quickly learned that this is one of those LA things that people will always want to brawl about discuss. Like the Venice residents who proudly declare themselves AWOL (always west of Lincoln), there are people who pride themselves on how rarely they cross Western (always east of Western?). And this has been going on for some time, according to this clip (above) from the LA Weekly circa 1988. They use Fairfax instead of La Brea, and this was, of course, before the 323 area code came about, but the sentiment remains the same: Some people are 310s and some people are 213s. And that’s just the way it is.

Thanks to Brian Lane, principal of Koning Eizenberg for sending this to me. And coincidentally, de LaB will be featuring Brian and Koning Eizenberg’s newest project, a remodel of the Best Western Hollywood Hills at our January 24 event. All are welcome, no matter what side of La Brea you live on.

It’s no secret around these parts that I’m a big Chris Burden fan. So of course I’ve been breathlessly awaiting the unveiling of his newest sculpture, Metropolis II at LACMA. It opens this Saturday but I got a sneak preview at the press conference, which I wrote about in my review for the LA Weekly. Still photos don’t do it justice, but hopefully my images and words can entice you to go see it in person. Which you must!

It’s gigantic: It takes up an entire room at LACMA. And it’s loud.

1,100 customized Hot Wheels cars move up a conveyor belt and then are released down 18 plastic tracks.

It’s like the 405 + the 101 + the 5 + the 10.

25 skyscrapers are made from everything from Legos to slotted stacking cards like the Eames Office designed.

An operator has to stand at the center to make sure no cars get flipped over or fly off the tracks. That’s also why it can only run for 90 minutes at a time, a few days a week.

Here’s LACMA’s Michael Govan talking to Chris Burden.

And Chris Burden pointing out some of the structural features.

Some parts don’t really look that different from downtown LA.

I fell in love with this little village bookended by two churches.

I was also wondering if these green panels were supposed to be parks.

Among the cars are a dozen electric trains that chug from one end to another. But they go very slow.

There are two Erector Set towers that nod to Burden’s work What My Father Gave Me, which I photographed in New York City.

And these travertine-like walls reminded me of the Getty.

The Eiffel Tower de Los Angeles!

Lincoln Logs give a nice faux-rustic look to what appears to be a very nice condo building.

Some of those Eames stacking cards. I want a real building in LA that looks like this.

Run, don’t walk to see this when it opens. Well, I suppose it would be appropriate to drive to this exhibition. As long as you don’t get stuck in traffic. Hours of operation here.

Read my review in the LA Weekly (there’s also a video there).

More Metropolis II photos.

My friend Jim Rota sent me this video for “The Red Line” by local hardcore/punk/metal band It’s Casual and as you might guess, I’m in love. The video features singer and guitarist Edward Solis riding a bus, a skateboard, and of course THE RED LINE, as he screams out those familiar number combinations—”THE 101! THE 405!”—over shots that prove “the freeways are not so nice.” And if you should have any doubt that this is indeed a pro-public transit song, just read the first two paragraphs of the band’s bio on their MySpace page:

It’s hard to digest the minutiae of society while traveling the freeways of Los Angeles in the comfort of a car at sixty miles per hour. Typically lined on both sides by cinder block walls, the L.A. freeways are mere pipelines of travel, often scurrying residents through neighborhoods of both low and high-income within mere minutes, barely offering a scant glimpse of what happens at the ends of those off-ramps.

But when It’s Casual vocalist/guitarist Edward Solis leaves his eastern Los Angeles-based residence to make his daily hour-long commute to Hollywood, he’s able to form an entirely new perspective. Solis, a rare, unlicensed Angelino, relies solely on public transportation to make his way around. The bus routes and train line on which he rides meander on surface streets, cutting across both decorative and distressed neighborhoods.

The resulting music is probably the most effective pro-transit message I’ve ever seen. It’s not some lovey-dovey ballad on the beauty of moving slowly through LA. It’s pretty much beating you into submission to STOP DRIVING NOW. I’ve often said that some of the fun of taking transit in LA is that it almost feels like a deviant act—like you’re buying into some counterculture, anti-establishment movement that’s protesting the current state of the city. This song fits that sentiment perfectly. It will be my new anthem as I proudly walk to the nearest Metro stop, which is, indeed “THE RED LINE!”