The Griffith Park fire has made the Norwegian news. For me, it’s like watching my own home go up in flames.
Griffith Park’s Greek theater was the first place I ever attended a rock concert, and in trying to get tickets to another rock concert, I managed to run a red light and get a different kind of ticket.
I used to drive Los Feliz Boulevard to work and college, as a way to avoid freeway clogs. I always enjoyed that part of my drive, with thick woods to the north of the boulevard and nice homes and view of the city basin to the south. The most beautiful part was coming to the final bend that put me on Western Avenue. Suddenly, the street would stretch perfectly straight out and below me, with traffic lights glowing in a straight line way off into the distance, being the only thing to penetrate the haze. I saw this cityscape as a work of art and actually played with the idea of doing an India ink drawing and wash. The idea is still in my head, and I still enjoy the memory.
I know that the firefighters will succeed (they always do, God bless them) and that eventually the trees and plants will grow back (they always do), but in the meantime, it is shocking to watch such a beautiful area, and so close to homes and the city itself, go up in smoke.