A tramp along Foothill boulevard between Allen and Rosemead can be fairly pedestrian; car dealers, car repair shops, fast food restaurants, thrift shops, pet clinics, gas stations, self storage warehouses, a shopping center, block after block of mostly small businesses housed in generic commercial real estate. But if you keep your head turned left, north, you cannot escape the comforting view of the south-facing slopes of the front range of the San Gabriel mountains. If you like that sort of thing, mountains, and I do, you can keep gazing at it through trees, fences, freeways, and occasionally catch its reflection on glass buildings on the other side of the street, looking right, so as to give your neck a break. It can feel like a fixation after a while, but who cares? Cézanne painted countless views of Mont Sainte-Victoire, Hiroshige did thirty-six views of Mount Fuji, and one hundred views of Edo, which inspired Barbara Thomason to paint her own one hundred ‘not so famous’ views of LA. In the end, it’s merely an excuse to look at, depict, document a subject that tickles your fancy while putting one foot in front of the other, to keep the blood flowing.