This image was taken in 2011 or 2012, just after I had moved to Los Angeles. I was downtown, an area I don’t go to that much, walking around with my camera. Some black smoke started to emerge from a grate in the street – I guess something underground was on fire. It was hilariously cinematic, as if some sort of devil was going to appear. It was really just one of those eerie, spontaneous things that happen in a city. There is a very powerful feeling of surrender when I am photographing. I have to submit to the authority of ignorance when I’m out there.
I grew up in San Jose, which is a sprawling American suburb – there’s no city about it. I came to LA because I was depressed where I lived, and I had just met my future wife, who didn’t want to live in San Jose either. LA is not really a city, it’s hundreds of places. You can drive 15 minutes and be in a completely different environment – the beach, the mountains. There’s a weird sentience to the city, if you let it take you. I get an inexplicable desire to just get in the car and go.
