In 2001 Bela Tarr seeped into Gus Van Sant’s mind and begin to move his arms and legs. The motion became frenzied. It slowed, and work began on ‘Gerry.’ Emotions crested during wondrously beautiful shots of men nearly dying in the desert.I went to the desert to re-create some of those feelings.
I’ve been watching games for 22 years. Through thick and thin. The death of Len Bias. The death of Reggie Lewis. Countless horrible draft picks. Players who turn out to be drunks, nutcases, fools. This year they all believed in each other, players everyone said couldn’t handle the pressure at the biggest stage. Celtics stand up.
Los Angeles is a sprawling diverse mess/mass of peaks and valleys, myths and trash. Dreams come here to be exploited, to wither, to die. In some places, the blood is piled high. Elsewhere it runs in the streets. And too much driving.
The original water mass dried up in the 15th century, but what we know as the Salton Sea today filled up after dams broke and the flood couldn’t be stopped for days. Fertilizer run-off from farms on the south side of the sea creates the conditions that lead to the mass death of fish on a regular basis.
The road to the Salton Sea is peppered with development. The ground is dry as bone, the rainfall scarce, the sun constant. Here is where you’ll find green lawns watered daily from dwindling aqueducts. And like our friend here, who sits in the sun for five hours, her sign hopping on her lap to advertise . . . more building.
