Descending from Echo Mountain is a photo book project featuring my work paired with my brother, Alex Buangsuwon’s, nature photography of Altadena, California. Text is as provided in the book:

Existing on the fringe of urban sprawl and wilderness lies Altadena, an unincorporated area in Los Angeles County, California. The word Altadena derives from the Spanish word, alta, meaning “upper,” and dena from its neighboring city, Pasadena. Being that Altadena exists at a higher elevation than Pasadena, the name is fitting. It is well known for its extensive network of hiking trails and campgrounds. Many use the access to nature as escape from the bustle of Los Angeles.

One of the most popular trails in the area is the Sam Merril Trail, which leads up to Echo Mountain. Echo Mountain gained notoriety during the end of the 19th century as part of the Mount Lowe Railway, which was a local tourist attraction. The mountain used to be adorned with a resort named the “White City.” The resort has since burnt down, now only a hollow shell of its illustrious legacy. At the summit, haunting echoes reverberate into the adjacent canyon, giving the mountain its name. 

This is where I was raised. As a child, I religiously engaged with the landscape on short hikes and trips to the nature center. As I revisit the same area now, I am confronted with an Altadena that feels both distant and benign.

Home embodies a place that I never wholeheartedly appreciated during my formative years. Now separated from it, I have acquired a more nuanced understanding of its complexity. It is not as if I did not take advantage of all Angeles National Forest had to offer, but rather I was unaware of the uniqueness of the landscape. Often, I forget that growing up beside mountains is a rarity and should be recognized in its privilege.

Every time I am drawn back to Altadena, I am pushed into introspection. What is it about this area that I find so invigorating? Is it longing for a sense of home, or does Altadena present its own captivating reality? Altadena portrays an existence that is tangible, a narrative that feels rooted in certainty. My images convey a comfort in familiarity, all while growing disconnected from the places I’ve known. I am now simply a guest. When I return home, I am confronted with the evidence of my absence.

Alex Buangsuwon ruminates on his surroundings with quiet curiosity. Inspired by the wildlife photographs of Steve Winter, Buangsuwon set off to capture our backyard as a microcosm of the greater national forest. His process differs from mine in both form and execution. He conveys a reality that modifies the one I have constructed. For his photographs, he was not present for their decisive moments. After preparing and camouflaging the camera, he must rely on its automation. His images create a world that occupies our shared space but varies with its subjects. He allows us to peak warmly into an untamed world that we so desperately wish not to encounter.

Animals tell the story of a simpler Altadena. One in which they dominate the landscape, roaming without fear of imposition. Now, the narrative is dominated by the development of Los Angeles, driving the wildlife into the mountains. Altadena functions as the threshold between their familiar terrain and urban expanse. At night, they descend into the neighborhood, drifting softly from backyard to backyard as if transient spirits. They remind us that we are all guests in their territory. Most residents of Altadena rarely encounter wildlife, yet they are omnipresent in the obscurity of shadows. 

Only a camera without human presence can grasp the veritable essence of these animals. The wildlife is captured in candid frames, unaware of their preservation. These portraits express personality unlike any confrontation would. These portraits express an echo of life unseen, that operating in a realm unknown to residents of Altadena. 

Here is where the pavement ends and the trailheads begin. While we sit well in the confines of our homes, a story of the unfamiliar unfolds just outside.

Welcome to my home.