For the last half dozen years, every trek home always meant a visit to the Getty Center. Not because it’s the best museum in the world or that it houses the awesomest collections. Rather, its appeal – to me – has always been its decidedly un-museum-like feel. It has an airiness that gets my creative cauldron bubbling.
The mood is usually set as soon as the tram doors whisper shut and the electric cars glide swiftly and quietly up from the parking structure at the bottom of the hill to the top where the conglomeration of buildings in travertine await. Even the presence of other people fail to interrupt quiet reverie. Most everyone is busy gazing out at the City of Angels, with its Bel Air mansions and their vineyards (yes, really!), and the hustle and bustle of L.A. commuters as they junket along the 405.
I never have an itinerary when visiting, though I always stop by the current Photographic Exhibit. Mostly I just wander, moving slowly between structures of stone and glass to gardens of flowers and cacti. Sometimes, when I’ve timed it just right (usually arriving exactly at opening or 1-2 hours before closing), I can meander peacefully alone. It’s usually at these times, when the hilltop museum feels like it’s my own, do I fully appreciate Richard Meier’s work of art.
On this particular visit, I subconsciously began looking for and cataloging relationships. Not human relationships, but the harmony between the buildings and their surroundings, tables and their chairs, people and their seating arrangements. It was all done without thought, really. The warm, late-afternoon sun just drew my eyes to the travertine walls and noted their contrast to the blue California skies. And I guess from there, my imagination took hold.
I’ve culled the best of the photos from that day – well, the photos I liked best, anyway – and thought I’d share them with you. Let me know what you think! (I know there’s barrel distortion in some; I haven’t moved beyond a kit lens…yet).
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