I’ve never really known Los Angeles—at least not firsthand. For me, LA was more of a daydream, a place I wandered through in Joan Didion’s books or Eve Babitz’s stories. It was ever-present in the movies I watched growing up, with the sunlight shining just a little too perfectly across the Hollywood Hills in the background. When I finally got there, it felt like stepping into a scene I’d somehow already lived, even though I hadn’t.

Everything had this strange sense of familiarity. The palm trees swaying above cracked sidewalks, the low hum of traffic in the background, and that soft, diffused light LA seems to own. I spent most of my time on the west side, wandering with my camera, chasing moments that felt like they’d slipped out of my imagination. It was never quite as perfect as I’d pictured, but still cinematic in its own regard.

This time, I brought a roll of Harman Phoenix Color 200, curious to see how it would handle LA’s shifting light. The colors came out soft, a little washed out—just like the city itself, sun-bleached and laid-back. In a way, it felt like the perfect match for what LA is.

LA was never going to be exactly what I expected, but maybe that’s the point. It’s a city of contradictions, where reality and dreams blur together. And with film, I could capture that feeling of being somewhere you’ve never fully known but always wanted to.