Christy Schnabel

As a kid, I spent long summer days at the Santa Monica beach, lying in the warm sand, digging my hands and feet beneath it like a soft blanket. I go to this place now to recalibrate. It is my home away from home. The endless stream of people passing by on the bike path reassures me. Despite all the insanity, there is still joy and community right in front of me. Sometimes, the path acts as a conveyor belt, shuttling people across miles of white sand beach; other times, it is an epic stage over which an endless cast of characters flow. For two years, I walked on the path, from Temescal Canyon to Venice Beach, making pictures of what I found there.