In the years of our Great Wall Street Depression, I took to the streets, our streets and became consumed; drawn down into the drain I call the blvd. The grid that I’ve spent three and a half years walking covers Hollywood, Sunset and Santa Monica blvd, with LaBrea as the western border and Gower as the east. To me this grid also represents the world in which we live, microcosmic, manic, miserable and monotonous. Photographs, words, broken pieces of conversation have all assimilated into one, and I became invisible, recording everything on my iPhone. The collages, like the blvd have melded into a single hyperkinetic voice. The blvd is the center of the universe, as all our expressions of greed, desire, lust and famine are laid bare for no one but our own reflection to see. We are the blvd.