Within the days after his surprising demise, it was not possible for us to go searching L.A. with out seeing Greg.
To many readers of the Los Angeles Occasions, Greg Yee was a proficient reporter, somebody who put uncommon willpower into all the things he wrote.
A local of Los Angeles, he had labored at publications in New Mexico, Lengthy Seaside and Charleston, S.C., earlier than returning to L.A. at The Occasions.
As anybody accustomed to Greg’s writing would let you know, he wrote with flourish whereas at all times conserving the integrity of a bit. He noticed narratives in all places he went and used this expertise to shine as a reporter and storyteller.
The Greg we knew was a lot much less severe.
We knew a youthful, less-experienced however no-less-polished Greg, working with him at our school’s newspaper, UC Irvine’s New College, in 2012. He was editor in chief, and we had been editors underneath his wing. Whereas he was technically our boss within the newsroom, outdoors it, he was certainly one of our greatest pals, a companion on many ill-considered misadventures and somebody we thought we’d be reminiscing with for a few years to return.
He was a goofball, sometimes pretentious, however at all times variety and reliable. He was the kind of individual you would rely on, so stalwart and dependable.
After we discovered he was gone, there was a second of full disbelief: “You’re speaking a few totally different Greg, proper? Greg, Greg?” He appeared like he’d at all times be round — till he wasn’t.
His mark is in all places in Los Angeles; he was born and raised right here, and he cherished this metropolis like nobody else.
After we had been in school in Orange County, he used to drive us as much as L.A. and take us across the metropolis, mentioning murals or landmarks with the practiced recitation of an old-school cab driver.
Although lots of our pals grew up in Southern California, some had by no means skilled L.A., and people of us who got here from out of city discovered our first actual view of town by the window of Greg’s outdated Mazda. Although he could possibly be emotionally non-public, we knew these drives had been a means for him to point out that he cared for us.
After years of working in Charleston, Greg’s transfer again to Southern California was a celebrated homecoming. So far as we knew, working for The Occasions was his dream job. His return to L.A. coincided with a burgeoning curiosity in movie pictures, so naturally his lens pointed towards the issues he held closest: his household, his pals and his metropolis.
After he died, we discovered simply how a lot he cherished L.A..
With the assistance of his household, we found lots of of movie negatives of L.A., many taken on drives across the metropolis and shot by the window of his automobile together with his movie digicam, a Leica M2.
He used to textual content us a few of his images, most frequently blurry or overexposed pictures (his digicam was fully handbook), with some form of madcap story about how he bought the photograph. What we didn’t know was that he had stored a few of his finest images to himself. Maybe he was saving them to publish sometime, however extra seemingly, he had no ambition for them in any respect.
Greg’s eye was distinctive: He had an enthusiasm and appreciation for the pure contours and man-made points of interest that others may cross by, however that’s who he was as a person too. He was by no means the form of Angeleno who disparaged town, and if anybody did, he leapt to its protection.
His pictures mirrored this ardent love of town.
Whereas the informal observer may learn the blurred strains as technically clumsy, we view them as giddy, the form of shaky-handed enthusiasm of somebody with a lot affection for Los Angeles that it overflowed.
The place a cynic may scoff on the picture of a vacationer lure, we all know he noticed these oft-visited websites as simply as vital within the metropolis’s tapestry as its most hidden secrets and techniques.
Merely put: His images are a postcard residence, from residence.
Left, Greg’s appreciation for road meals and pictures mixed, highlighting his respect for each artwork kinds. Proper, the Angels Flight funicular begins a descent in downtown L.A. (Greg Yee / Los Angeles Occasions)
They’re a heat embrace of each neighborhood he visited. They don’t must be gritty or edgy to be stunning as a result of that’s not who Greg was. He was by no means conceited; as a substitute, he was variety and curious, a delicate man who by no means misplaced the mischievous bent we knew him for in school.
We are able to’t know what Greg really considered these images. Even when we might ask him, he’d in all probability make some offhand self-deprecating joke and snigger us off. However working for the final yr archiving his images, one thing has change into abundantly clear: He had an unequalled, unconditional love for each nook of this place.
Now that he’s gone, his pictures is nearly like reaching again in time for one final drive. We are able to think about ourselves again in Greg’s automobile, certainly one of his playlists flowing loud from the stereo, town blurring by as he cackled a few horrible mural or mused a few hip cafe that changed an awesome outdated bakery. That he left these images behind was a present he didn’t know he was giving us, a bittersweet rumination on L.A. that we want he might proceed.
These, in our estimation, are a few of Greg’s finest images.
We hope that you simply, like us, will really feel the love that emanates from these images, and that possibly you’ll even be impressed to tug over throughout your subsequent commute to admire town, to breathe Los Angeles in and respect its panorama the way in which Greg did.
Greg would have turned 35 as we speak.