About

It was the winter of 1970 and I visited LA for the first time.

I had made an appointment to meet the coolest artist in town, if not in the country.

I was sitting in Irving Blum’s gallery on La Cienega Avenue, chatting to the delightful receptionist. I told her I had to leave soon, to catch the bus to Ed Ruscha’s studio on North Western Avenue. I asked her where did the bus leave from. “Bus?” she said, “People don’t take buses here. Take my car.” I didn’t even know her name half an hour earlier. “I like LA”, I said to myself. The drive down La Cienega, along Melrose Avenue to North Western …