Thinking about L.A.

© 2010 bridget batch

My baby wants to move to L.A.

This isn't exactly news, he's wanted this for a long time. He finds L.A. beautiful (he is right), and inspiring. But now that we've been here for two months, the desire has matured. I just happen to have a life in New York, with many, many friends, that I treasure. Of course he does too, but it is different for him. I guess that he likes driving more than I do.

I've been enjoying the experience in L.A., perhaps more than I thought I would. We have friends here and I had a great shoot in Las Vegas (although I would have had that were I in NYC as well). On the art front, I've been shooting nearly every day, at least a little bit. The range of plants foreign to me, and the incredibly lush rapaciousness of them has delighted me. The driving has bothered me a little less than I thought it would, and the immediate availability of hiking really is wonderful. But I miss my New York people. My feelings on this matter are incredibly complex.

I do not look forward to returning to an apartment in New York that, due to various construction issues, has never become home. The very real circumstances of the apartment, the endless construction fixes, the motley parade of engineers, technicians and insurance adjusters in and out of it is depressing. When we returned to New York after our summer travels, we found the front yard completely unkept -- a situation that Kevin and a neighbor took upon themselves to remedy. I guess our management company doesn't do lawn care.

At this point, I would say I have lived without a true sense of home for years. A friend of mine once suggested I do a project about this. This is partly because I am not very domestic. It's also because Kevin and I are so nomadic, we have traveled so much (wow, have we been fortunate, insert gratitude here). Sometimes I feel like I am floating, a tumbleweed, without roots and, perhaps, purpose. But I also feel a sense of freedom. I am not sure that I really want to be tied to a home. It's no secret that purchasing an apartment was not my first choice. However, I always knew that we could easily rent it and fortunately I was correct.

But not being tied to a place has its disadvantages. I observe a closeness, the bonding of shared experiences, amidst groups of friends that awakens deep pain within me, certainly a longing for that and a jealousy that I am outside of that. But it's my own fault, there is no possibility of me being part of it without my physical presence!

Interesting how, when you think of a place, it's the experiences with the people there that comes first to mind. The energy of New York is amazing, but that all comes from the people.

Calling All Caves

I need to find the right cave. I don't think I want to join a spelunking society, and I don't think they'd have me either. Bats inspire a terror of rabies. I am afraid of heights and had a nervous breakdown the one time I went rock-climbing when I was 19. Fortunately, I was with some fantastically patient and compassionate people. But rappeling into immense darkness appeals to me even less than doing it blinding daylight.

Then why on earth have I been searching the world for the proper cave?

I have a photograph in my head and I need to make it in a cave. Other requirements complicate it, but the first is finding the cave. And I am not particularly looking to have it be a so-called "show" cave, all decked out in colored lights.

New York is not a cave wonderland although there are a few. I started to look Upstate a year ago, but my friends who have a house in the Catskills reminded me that in the fall, other creatures actively look for caves as well. Kevin and I drove all over the southeast Catskills asking about one hole in the ground, finally finding it. It was intensely dark inside although I did kind of like it.

In the Philippines a year ago, I actually managed to obtain my delicate and expensive props, for cheap because it's the Philippines! Four of us, Kevin, our friend, her friend who was a professional guide and myself set out on scooters in Bohol to see a cave that this friend promised was stunning. It seemed perfect and I was very excited. Then Kevin and I had a little motorbike accident and I spent three hours at the private hospital desperately hoping the needle was clean as the doctor gave me a tetanus shot and stitches.

Several months later, the friend, Scott, died in a caving accident. He was 31 and a sweet, lovely guy. He had lived in the Philippines for some time and was very good to us. His death is a tragedy.

At the Grand Canyon residency last March, I thought that for sure I could shoot something in a cave there. The only problem was obtaining my delicate, and expensive, props which were not available in the national park. Upon arrival, I also learned that the park forbids entry to any and all caves in the Canyon. The residency coordinator (Rene god bless you, your're amazing) told me that her electrician husband had installed many video cameras at cave entrances in order to keep people out.

You think that's a waste of taxpayer money? I bet it's cheaper than a search and rescue mission, or prosecuting grave robbers. Yep, to this day, disgusting excuses for humans steal Native American artifacts and even more disgusting people pay a lot of money for those artifacts.

So, no caves in the Canyon. I didn't think I could handle the fine.

I am in Southern California now. Holla if you think you can help me with an attractive, accessible (a hike is fine), cave with a fair amount of entrance space.


entrance to an underground river near Ellenville, NY
© 2009 bridget batch