2011-12-11 - Soledad Canyon

I used to enjoy drives through the outskirts of Los Angeles Country, through the Angeles National Forest and out in to the edges of the Mojave Desert. Soledad Canyon Road near Acton, was a frequent location. The little cemetery in Acton always felt like a special place - quiet, scenic, intimate, almost hidden but clearly never forgotten. Somewhere I once read that the first act of architecture is to make a boundary. A grave, a memorial place, made sacred by separation from the land beyond, feels like a perfect example of this theory. 

There is in each of us a flower whose only defense is its beauty. It doesn't matter what we call these flowers: love, desire, intoxication, joy. We leave these flowers as offerings to the beauty of existence, cruel beauty, beauty that makes one shiver. Wherever we places these flowers, an altar is.

George Mills "The People of The Saints"

Camera:  Unknown Samsung Camera
Medium: Digital