Places sarahltait Wants to Go

These artworks take you traveling to mythical medieval Europe, the politicized grape fields of 1960s California, and deep below sea level.

A gift from Abbot Kinney and a little bit of piece of Black history in Venice Beach.

Common all over Japan, kōbans are small community police boxes, and now one is guarding one of L.A.’s megamalls.

A lonely Gondola stuck on a traffic circle sits in a spot where it once would have floated down the Grand Canal.

Outposts of this restaurant chain were shaped like jaunty chapeaus.

A 50-foot tile mural mosaic for the 100-year anniversary of the Statue of Liberty.

Where a great scandal unfolded with a famous female revivalist at its center.

A cult following celebrates the legend that belies this curious podiatrists' office sign which has worked its way into song, literature, animation, and the visual arts.

Celebrating the accomplishments of Black firefighters in Los Angeles.

60 feet of towering steel balances gracefully.

This "synagogue" is not what it seems to be.

Large but largely ignored, these 42 life-size Liberty Bell replicas were a peculiar, unexplained feature on the facade of a Macy's department store.

Wild West history in Hollywood style.

A black and white mural stands out from its psychedelic surroundings.

A lovely summer day by the sea becomes a nightmare.

"The greatest unknown literary treasure in Los Angeles."

Pizza joint known for labor-inducing salad dressing.

This well-traveled chess park offers scenic views of the pacific and a colorful, eclectic clientele.

A classic American barn that was the home of a classic American television star.

An L.A. traffic island where the faces of locals have been carved into massive granite eggs.

A Bicycle Path in the Sky.

A long-vacant Scottish Rite temple in Hollywood has been converted into an art museum filled with Masonic relics.

This stockpile of junked electronic and mechanical gadgets is a favorite among Hollywood prop masters.

Friendships have been forged over ham and eggs every Wednesday morning for a century.