Los Angeles: The city of lilac sunsets at the beach and fiery riots in the inner city. It is my city, my home. A fragmented beautiful scar on the West Coast, sitting on the Pacific Rim gazing toward Asia--the classic decentralized 21st city of extremes and grotesque juxtaposition. It’s in my DNA. My mother was born here. She lived up in Chavez Ravine before it was buried under Dodger Stadium and told me how she loved seeing the city at night with its lights aglow. L.A. is an alluring mix of the utterly familiar with the pure potential of the apocalyptic unknown; it's transcendent and trivial all at once as if you were living in your own hyper-detective story.

We call it the City of Angels but it’s really a true hybrid of saint and sinner and all the in between trespassers and bystanders. It is my muse, a great swirling maze of energy and madness that invites me to be the co-author of its destiny. Welcome to L.A., my L.A.

Max Benavidez