"I'm not sure whether Los Angeles borders on the ocean or on oblivion. I always feel that I'm two steps away from the other side when I'm out there. It's more like a vacation place or a place to visit than a place to hunker down"
About this Quote
Los Angeles is cast as a city built on an edge, with the Pacific on one side and a void on the other. The pairing of ocean and oblivion draws together two kinds of vastness: the natural horizon that invites possibility and the existential emptiness that swallows identity. To feel two steps from the other side is to sense a constant nearness to disappearance, whether into celebrity myth or into obscurity. That tension captures the paradox of the entertainment capital, where the line between visibility and vanishing is perilously thin.
The tone suggests a traveler’s detachment rather than a resident’s rootedness. A place for work, meetings, premieres, sunshine, and motion, Los Angeles becomes a resort of ambition, a destination to visit, not soil to settle. The phrase "vacation place" conjures surfaces: hotel lobbies, rented cars, poolside promises, a lightness that resists the gravity of community. To "hunker down" implies weathering storms with a neighborhood, an address, a set of obligations; LA, in this view, floats above such anchors, its freeways and studios extending a sheen of impermanence.
For an actor like Jeffrey Wright, steeped in theater and East Coast seriousness, the city’s dream machine can feel both seductive and annihilating. The industry offers sudden ascents and evaporations, life-changing roles beside long silences. Ocean or oblivion becomes a career geography: one tide delivers you; the next pulls you under. The city’s desert brightness only heightens the spectral quality of its shadows.
There is affection here too, an acknowledgment of glamour and possibility, but held at arm’s length. The distance keeps perspective. By refusing to call it home, he preserves a self that the city’s mirages might otherwise distort. Los Angeles, then, becomes a threshold: fertile for visions, dangerous for foundations. It is where you go to chase something gleaming across the water, aware that the same shimmer might be the surface of a void.
The tone suggests a traveler’s detachment rather than a resident’s rootedness. A place for work, meetings, premieres, sunshine, and motion, Los Angeles becomes a resort of ambition, a destination to visit, not soil to settle. The phrase "vacation place" conjures surfaces: hotel lobbies, rented cars, poolside promises, a lightness that resists the gravity of community. To "hunker down" implies weathering storms with a neighborhood, an address, a set of obligations; LA, in this view, floats above such anchors, its freeways and studios extending a sheen of impermanence.
For an actor like Jeffrey Wright, steeped in theater and East Coast seriousness, the city’s dream machine can feel both seductive and annihilating. The industry offers sudden ascents and evaporations, life-changing roles beside long silences. Ocean or oblivion becomes a career geography: one tide delivers you; the next pulls you under. The city’s desert brightness only heightens the spectral quality of its shadows.
There is affection here too, an acknowledgment of glamour and possibility, but held at arm’s length. The distance keeps perspective. By refusing to call it home, he preserves a self that the city’s mirages might otherwise distort. Los Angeles, then, becomes a threshold: fertile for visions, dangerous for foundations. It is where you go to chase something gleaming across the water, aware that the same shimmer might be the surface of a void.
Quote Details
| Topic | Vacation |
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