Palm Springs

Palm Springs, the city I currently call home, was the first place I ever visited in California. During college and freezing in New York City, I browsed my way through fanciful art and architecture books at The Strand and became paralyzed by the near perfect images of Julius Shulman’s mid century vision of the desert. I became obsessed and after graduating, set out on a road trip to see the mythical place for myself. Upon arriving, my friend and I peered over hedges, trying to get a peek at the famous Kaufmann House, the same house that Shulman’s iconic photographs had anointed as the temple of mid century modernism, some fifty odd years before. In very un-Palm Springs fashion, it rained during both of the days we were there, casting the town in a sad bluish glow.