Christy Schnabel

Located at the edge of western Los Angeles, the Santa Monica Beach Bike Path runs across the last strip of land before the ocean leads to the horizon. Just behind it to the east lies the Pacific Coast Highway, and further beyond that, the sprawl of LA. At the path, the chaos of the city gives way to a chorus of green noise: the hum of bike tires, the offshore breeze, seagulls and waves. As a kid, I spent long summer days here, lying in the warm sand, digging my hands and feet beneath it like a soft blanket. I go to this place often to recalibrate, but, while the path offers a reprieve from the chaos of the city, it is not lonely. Rather, there is an abundance of humanity. Some days, the path feels like a giant conveyor belt shuttling people across miles of white sand beach. Other days it feels like an epic stage across which an endless stream of characters enter and exit the scene. Over a two year period, I walked on the path from Temescal Canyon to Marina del Ray photographing the people there.