"The presence of such an enclave of graceless pleasures in such an environment is so improbable that only science fiction can manage it." (Image by Matthew Field.)

I was looking at The Browser and came across a book about American deserts by the late architectural critic Reyner Banham, a British expat who adored the buildings of Los Angeles. A quote from this seemingly eccentric book that I’ve yet to get my hands on:

“Las Vegas is a symbol, above all else, of the impermanence of man in the desert, and not least because one is never not aware of the desert’s all pervading presence; wherever man has not built nor paved over, the desert grimly endures – even on some of the pedestrian islands down the center of the Strip! The presence of such an enclave of graceless pleasures in such an environment is so improbable that only science fiction can manage it; the place is like the compound of an alien race, or a human base camp on a hostile planet. To catch this image you need to see Las Vegas from the air by night, or better still, late in the afternoon, as I first saw it, when there is just purple sunset light enough in the bottom of the basin to pick out the crests of the surrounding mountains, but dark enough for every little lamp to register. Then – and only then – the vision is not tawdry, but is of a magic garden of blossoming lights, welling up at its center into fantastic fountains of everchanging color. And you turned to the captain of your spaceship and said, ‘Look Sir, there must be intelligent life down there,’ because it was marvelous beyond words. And doomed – it is already beginning to fade, as energy becomes more expensive and the architecture less inventive. It won’t blow away in the night, but you begin to wish it might, because it will never make noble ruins . . . .”

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Previously posted, this playful 1972 BBC doc captured Banham in his favorite element: Los Angeles. There’s a fun passage in which Edward Ruscha opines on L.A. gas stations: