One of the distinctive characteristics of the Los Angeles landscape is the vintage cars. These “ghost wheels,” as I’ve come to think of them, give us a whiff of old Hollywood glamour, of Rock ‘n’ Roll fantasies, of the original California dream, as they go by. Teetering on obsolescence, they also foreshadow the future of cars in L.A. Every worn out Datsun seems to know that we’re clinging to our old ways to our own detriment.
In 2014, I began photographing ghost wheels wherever I found them. Street photography generally focuses on people, while automotive photography usually means driving a cherry chassis to Malibu in time for the sunset. But by applying the street photography approach to classic cars (whatever their condition), showing them in their natural environments, they emerge as characters of the city. I see them as flashes of L.A.’s identity in a sea of silver and beige Honda Civics and Toyota Corollas.
I live in a somewhat stymied Toyota Corolla version of Los Angeles. I can’t get a minimum wage job, none of my friends can afford to move out of their parents’ homes, and my great local coffee shop got torn down to make way for condos. But the ghost wheels remind me there are other Los Angeles-es. The lowrider sees the streets as his playground. The running-board diva probably once took Barbara Stanwyck to lunch at the Polo Lounge. The microbus is here for the 284 average annual days of sunshine, while that chlorine green van is hauling the gear of my next favorite band.
Lake View Avenue near Silver Ridge, Silverlake
L.A. Ghost Wheels 