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Photographer finds his way home to Altadena, one image at a time

Photo of a trailer parked on a dirt or gravel lot, with a cityscape faintly visible in the distance under a deep blue sky transitioning to purple and orange near the horizon. Palm trees rise tall in the background. A man with a beard is inside the trailer.
Kevin Cooley and his family's lot in Altadena. They lost their house in the Eaton Fire a year ago.
(
Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)

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Photographer finds resolve to rebuild by taking pictures of those who've stayed behind
Kevin Cooley, a wildfire photographer, lost his home in the Eaton Fire. We check back in with him as the first anniversary approaches.

The pull of Altadena has never let up for Kevin Cooley and his family — through fire, debris and the long, current stretch where the lot that once held their house on El Molino Avenue has sat barren.

"There's no more fire debris. It's all gone. I mean, there's certainly a reminder of the fire everywhere," Cooley said. "It's just all construction ... and lots that are for sale."

Cooley and I first met a day after his house burned down in the Eaton Fire. This summer, he told me they were ready to rebuild. This time around, I suggested meeting at his Altadena lot, expecting to see some signs of construction — and found none.

'Like a rollercoaster'

 "It's been a lot of fluctuation, like a rollercoaster," Cooley said of the decision-making process.  "Just not knowing what the right thing to do is."

The January fire wiped out nearly a decade's worth of life he and his family built in Altadena, confronting them with what Cooley called a "blank slate."

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In a whirlwind year of trying to put their lives back together, the thought of whether it's just easier — and less costly — to start anew elsewhere has crossed their minds.

"It's daunting but also kind of interesting to think about all the possibilities that you could have," Cooley said.

Along the way, Cooley, a photographer, turned to his art to make sense of all that was lost — and ended up forging an even deeper relationship with this place.

a striking nighttime or twilight scene with a dramatic contrast between vibrant flowers and a dark, tangled background.
A picture of roses found growing on a lot on Calaveras Street in Altadena. Cooley says this photo best encapsulates his intention for the series.
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Kevin Cooley
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He told me about his first impression of Altadena — how  it seemed "impossibly far away." How the interminable drive that day up Lake Avenue deposited him on the Echo Mountain trail — "one of the most beautiful hikes I've ever been on." How the neighborhood quickly became their entire world after he and his wife bought the place on El Molino, some eight years later.

" I walked my kid to school. My wife, Bridget, she would ride her bike to work," he said. " I mean, that's not what you think of as living in Los Angeles, but yet, it's so close in a lot of ways to everything in L.A."

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Home sick

Since the fire, Cooley has been coming up to Altadena, sometimes as many as several times a week. He would drive around the neighborhood, over and over again, to take pictures of whatever might catch his eyes.

His route always begins at his lot on El Molino.

A  large, dense mound of dried, brown foliage forming a textured base. Emerging from this base are several green aloe plants with long, arching, fleshy leaves. The tallest aloe sits at the center, rising prominently above the dried mass, while smaller ones flank it.
Aloe on Harriet Street.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)

" It seems like a natural starting point and also a place to reflect on coming back, to seeing if it's really a place that I want to rebuild my life again," Cooley said.

About six months ago, he told me he was photographing flowers and plants that rose out of the fire's impossible ruins and burnt trees that managed to sprout new growth.

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The 'homesteaders'

Since Thanksgiving, he started to fix his lens on some of the folks living in temporary dwellings on their lots.

"They call themselves the 'homesteaders,'" Cooley said.

A vintage-style travel trailer parked on a grassy area during twilight, with a vivid purple and pink sky in the background. A man in shorts and a t-shirt stands at the door.
Homesteader Tom in Altadena.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)

Cooley took me on a drive, pointing out an Airstream on one block ... then a tiny box of an ADU down another ... then a trailer the size of a school bus ... then a tent ... then a giant RV. A sign in front of it says, "My entire life burned in Altadena and all I got was a stupid sign."

"They're all intending on coming back in a permanent way, but in the meantime, they have many different reasons for being here," Cooley said.

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For some, they simply could not stay away.

A serene twilight scene featuring a classic silver Airstream trailer parked on a dirt lot, framed by silhouetted trees and a vivid sunset sky.
An Airstream in Altadena.
(
Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)

"Being elsewhere has been really hard on them," he said. " They want to feel a connection to this place. They want to be back in Altadena."

Cooley photographed the homesteaders the same way as the wildflowers and the trees, with strobe lights illuminating his subjects against a darkened backdrop at dusk.

The image shows an outdoor nighttime scene featuring a polished silver Airstream trailer illuminated warmly from within. The trailer is parked on a dirt or gravel lot, surrounded by string lights that create a cozy, festive atmosphere. In the foreground, two people stand close together, holding hands, positioned slightly off-center in front of the trailer.
Homesteaders Michael and Brooke in Altadena.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)

" Those homesteaders are like the human equivalent of what the plants are doing," he said. "  My idea was to have them match conceptually and visually."

As we drove around, with the majestic mountains sporting a dense coat of Kelly green as our constant North Star, it's impossible to miss the new phase Altadena has entered — as debris and wreckage gave way to neat, empty lots and "For sale" signs to now the wooden frames sprouting into shape on many blocks, all within a year's time.

A fact of life

And these in-between moments of resiliency — be it the plants or the homesteaders — are disappearing quickly.

 "People are building so fast and some people have already built, finished and have moved in. Photographing people in these temporary conditions is almost, again, a race against time," he said.

But their resolve, their longing to be rooted, has reaffirmed his own decision to stay.

A old, rusted van surrounded by overgrown weeds and plants against a brilliant sunset.
A rusted, beat-up VW bus in Altadena
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)

Cooley and his wife still will rebuild. They now need to settle on one of the two companies on their shortlist for the job.

This time, the family will have a home tailored to their needs. For Cooley, that means a proper art studio space, instead of working out of the garage like he did before.

Above all, their new house will be built with the next fire in mind.

" Wildfires are a fact of life in California," he has told me every time we meet. "That would mean building the most fire-hardened house possible."

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