|"Under the Laguna Freeway," 4x6in., oil on masonite|
People say, sometimes intuit—in California and in Canada, it's one of the strong common threads—that nature is therapeutic, restorative, a wormhole back to our more congenital habitat. But every time I escape, mostly to get a reprieve from cars and digital devices, or to walk the kids, I end up coming back to the same old drab structures that signal modern living, like early explorers that just couldn't lose sight of the coastline.
This view under a freeway, curiously, with trash thrown out of vehicles above and scattered about, a thunderous noise, and slightly vandalized signs and walls, struck as me as rougher and more feral than the carefully tended paths where I was supposed to experience wilderness.
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