“Well, they just don’t care about getting rich or being famous or just getting up early enough every day to get to a
job or do the things you need to do to turn your passion or talent or craft into money. They just don’t want any part
of it. There are brilliant people out there and they just live on the beach or in tiny rooms or apartments along the
beach and the canals and they spend all day, everyday, on Venice Beach. They make art and music, write songs
and poems, and they’ll never get discovered and that’s exactly they way they want it to be and how they want to
live their lives. Artists doing art for the sake of art and life.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand that,” I replied slowly. “Did you notice that they are filming a movie across the
street?”
“Yes, I saw that. That’s a fairly common sight to see here in Venice. So are you going to be spending a few days
here?”
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moving along until I got to one picture displayed on the small digital screen, and stopped.
“Take a look at this, John. The sun was just about to go down over the Pacific’s horizon and I’m walking along the
beach. There is this old hippie bus and it’s parked all by itself under a grove of palm trees so I lined up and took
this picture.”
“That’s a nice shot. Good composition with the palm trees and all,” John says.
“As I moved closer to the mini-bus I smelled heavy marijuana and heard music and voices coming from the bus. It’s
painted all over—peace, love, stop the war—and the music I heard was Jim Morrison and the song was “Peace
Frog” which I recognize immediately. I walked around the front of the bus and there was a guy there and with long
hair and a full bushy beard and he was arranging some things on the ground in between the bus and the grassy
area beneath the palm trees. He sensed me standing there and he turned and I saw his face. I raised my camera to
take his picture and just as I was about to squeeze the shutter button he turned towards the ocean and the brilliant
sunset and I never took the shot.”
John told me that I had captured the feel of life on the beach in many of my pictures and videos and I thanked him
for the compliment, great service, and excellent wine suggestion. We shook hands and I said that I might see him
again the next day.
I returned the following afternoon, also around sunset time. Before parking my rental car, I drove past the corner
where the Hollywood film crew had installed their myriad of technical equipment and lighting gear the night before.
They had packed up and left without a trace. I walked up and down the boardwalk a number of times but did not
see Jimi Hendrix. Before it got completely dark I walked into the parking lot and towards the grove of tall palms I had
photographed at sunset yesterday. Like the Hollywood set and Jimi Hendrix, the old 60s hippie bus and its long-
haired bearded occupant had vanished, too.
“I’m not sure but I’d like to. I’d like to come back
tomorrow and check out Muscle Beach and take
some more pictures and make some more videos”
“Yea, that Jimi Hendrix video was a good one. I
like it… it was strange.”
“Let me show you a few stills I took, if you have a
few minutes.”
John looked over at the two women who seemed
to be happily sipping their wine and talking so he
said, “Sure.”
I began flicking through pictures I had taken along
the boardwalk. Most were typical so I just kept
Copyright © 2007 by Michael Domino
