Note: I’ve been going through my blog archives and have decided to resurface some old pieces from Kates of yore. This one felt particularly timely as I prepare to embark on a desert adventure in the coming weeks (more to come on that)!

Originally written: April 20, 2020. Day 40 of Social Distancing.

I’m writing this as raindrops lightly tap on my window for what must be the 10th day straight. It’s undoubtedly pleasant but also a poignant sound that reminds me of one of the things I miss the most about Los Angeles - the proximity to the desert. After all, "Los Angeles is a desert community” emphatically insisted the mayor to city council in Chinatown (1974).

I remember flying to LA for the first time in summer 2018 while moving there without having ever visited. From my window seat, I could not stop thinking “Ok... but when does the desert end?!” Coming from the densely packed East Coast, I was shocked to see such an expansive, barren wasteland. I’d been living in a country without any concept of the actual landscape of it. From this point, I became fascinated in the desert and have been fortunate enough to get a chance to explore it more over the years. (Note: My desert explorations have been predominantly limited to the LA area, but find your nearest local desert near you and check it out!)

Growing up (and to this day, if I’m being perfectly honest) I struggled with Agoraphobia. One manifestation of that anxiety is the fear of wide, open spaces. There is something so awe-inspiring yet haunting when you stare out across a desert. Surrendering to the dry expanse sprawling before your eyes can be freeing with a hint of unsettling. Paired with absolute silence, only occasionally cut with the whistle of the wind, the experience of letting the space envelope you is almost overwhelming! The desert can be a very humbling, grounding place to free yourself from inhibitions as your traces get wiped away by the dust and sand. The beauty lies in the simplicity. It’s ok to feel small.

Art and the desert seem to go hand-in-hand. So many artists have found inspiration in the solitude and heat. Recently, I traipsed around Slab City. The town is unlike anything I have ever seen. This Marine-training-site-turned-Ghost-town is an unincorporated area, not falling under any local jurisdiction and succumbing to no legal restrictions or police. There is no monetary system, no rule of law, and no judgement from the outside world. To call it an “alternative living community” would be painting the picture lightly - it’s a little closer to a scene out of Mad Max. If you’re into immersive art it is well worth the trip but I can’t guarantee you won’t feel very out of place and like an unwelcome stranger in “The Last Free Place on Earth”.

When thinking on the dusty wilderness of the desert, you can't forget about the flora. Desert plants are so delightfully weird. I just want to bombard them with question like "1- how are you alive? 2 - why do you look like that? 3 - am I on a different planet or is this still Earth?" Despite my anthropomorphic wishes, they do not respond and I should probably just pick up a book on the subject. You go to the desert for the limitless views and space, but it is hard not to become mesmerized by the land's ecological inhabitants and find yourself up close and personal with something prickly.

I don't know when I'll get to see the desert again ((sad)). If you, too, are waiting for your desert reunion, simulate a long, peaceful drive through the beautiful wasteland with these photos and a good playlist. One thing for certain is she'll still be there when all of this insanity eases up! ...and there I go anthropomorphizing again. I'm done.