James Dean


Ah, beautiful James Dean: a dichotomic mixture of bad boy and tender innocence.  After a recent trek back home from Fresno, driving down the 46, we stopped at his ill-fated crash site. As I stood  in front of the monument, late afternoon sun in my eyes and a dry, warming wind blowing through my hair, I could hear Jamesy whisper to me, "draw me, Gina. Draw me." And so, I did. (James Dean monument photo courtesy of Barry Sigman Photography)

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