Regulars at this site will surely know of Robert Lang, physicist and origami master (art website here) whom I met a while back at the Kent Presents meetings. We became friendly and thereafter he contributed both wildlife photos and origami photos to this website (see all his posts here).
I was scheduled to meet Robert and his wife Diane today after the meetings and get a tour of their home and studio (she’s an author), thereafter then sallying forth to dinner. I hadn’t seen Robert in years, and had never met Diane, so I was looking forward to visiting their digs and to seeing some of the famous origami.
The problem was that their home and studio were in Altadena, California, near Los Angeles, so you can guess what I’m going to say next.
The home and studio are no more, taken down by wildfire. But I’ll let Robert tell the tale. His words, printed with permission, are indented below, and are supplemented with narrated videos (there are even subtitles). This is the story of a family who lived through the fire but lost everything—except for the most important things: their lives and their animals.
Note that they actually lost two houses, as they had just bought another down the street.
Late Tuesday afternoon, we heard about the Eaton Fire, which started over in Eaton Canyon, about 2 miles to our east and several ridges over. The initial reports were that the wind was driving the fire to the east (away from us), so we were hopeful. At about 6:30 pm, though, my neighbor texted the neighborhood group that he saw a glow over the ridge to our east, and I headed up to my studio to see. By 7:30 pm I saw the fire crest that ridge and we received the “evacuate NOW” notice, so I threw as much as I could grab into my car and headed down, while my wife did the same from our home (with the dogs, tortoises, snake, and tarantula that live with us).
We spent the next few hours driving and parking to try to watch things from a distance. Surprisingly, the evacuation zone ended just to the west of our neighborhood, so after a while, I started making my way to the edge of the zone, staying out of the way of the many emergency vehicles, and presently found a spot from which I could walk to the edge of the canyon that separated me from my studio. From there, I could see the studio; I could also see that the entire multi-thousand-foot mountainside above it was in sheets of flame. The wind was blasting through the canyons, driving 50-foot plumes of flame and embers horizontally. About 1:30 am, I saw a flare-up right at the studio, and within about 10 minutes, it was engulfed. I also realized about that time that the fire would likely take down the telephone poles (and thus, potentially live wires) along my route, so I beat a hasty retreat to my car, and before long, the authorities announced that our area was now evacuation zone. We drove down the hill to Pasadena, found a quiet neighborhood out of the smoke (and, we hoped, the path of the fire), and spent a fitful rest of the night in our cars, awaiting what the morning would bring.
In the morning, my wife stayed with the animals and I drove up the hill to see what became of our house. Major roads were blocked off, but I wove through the neighborhoods, dodging still-burning homes (though the worst was past), downed wires, downed trees, and random debris, until I could get up to my neighborhood. It was a zone of total devastation: nearly all homes burned–and definitely mine. (Actually, both of ours; we had just moved down the street, so both our old house–just moved out of–and the new house–just moved into–were leveled.) I made my way up to my studio at the top of the hill, passing street after street of nothing but smoldering ruins. When I made it up, I found something incredible: the row of houses below my studio had entirely survived! I texted their owners the good news. I could see, though, that my studio had not; I parked (debris blocked my driveway), walked up, and surveyed the destruction, took a few videos and pictures for records, then high-tailed it down the hill.
Right now, the estimates are that 7000 structures were damaged or destroyed. It looks like about 2/3 of Altadena is gone. There’s a lot of snark on the internets about the rich people/celebrities/influencers in Pacific Palisades losing their houses. I haven’t seen similar snark about Altadena, which is a mixed-class, mixed-race community. There are turn-of-the-century buildings, craftsman houses, bungalows, tiny starter homes, and yes, a few mansions left over from the days when it was the summer playground of the rich. My wife grew up here; her father built their house himself in the 40s after clearing the orange groves from the parcel he bought. On the main drag downtown, the local hardware store was where you ran into your neighbors; Fox’s Restaurant had been a local landmark since 1955. All that is gone.
Ironically, I had recently returned from a business trip to Dresden, Germany, which was (famously) fire-bombed and leveled in WWII. They rebuilt. So will we. But it will be a long road to recovery.
*****************
Here a Cal Fire map of fire damage. The damaged area covers about 2/3 of Altadena. My home and studio is in the top middle of the burned civilized area, just to the left of the vertical black bar on the map.
This map is an understatement; I know some of the areas shown in gray actually burned.
Here are a few of the videos Robert posted on his YouTube site:
Panorama of the fire from the studio:
View of the mountains from the house:
Views of the destroyed house:
Views of the destroyed studio:
From Robert:
Here’s one more image for you: house-by-house fire damage. I’ve annotated where my places were. Not much left of the neighborhood.
[The key to above]: red=burned, black = OK, amber=damaged, green=“affected” (whatever that means).
Distance-wise, the studio and the houses are about a half mile apart by road, less by walking (there’s a trail up the canyon). An easy walk, except for the elevation gain (studio is about 200’ higher in elevation), so I usually drove.
Click to enlarge: Arrows: studio is at the top, the old house at lower center, and the new house at lower right. I’m struck by the patchy locations of the houses that survived.
As you can tell from the narration, Robert appears remarkably calm about this, as he was in his email to me about the destruction, which was headed “change of plans.” I would be wailing with grief! But Robert and I do have one thing in common: a compulsion to document. His is with words and videos, mine involves in putting them on this site.
Best of luck, Robert and Diane, and of course we’re all sorry for your loss.
This sounds brutal – I appreciate sharing this – I hope in some way doing so helps.
I am so so sorry for your incredible loss. I wish you the best on rebuilding.
I hope you can restore your home without too much red tape. I also look forward to seeing more of your origami as soon as possible.
Echoing Debra. +1.
My condolences on your loss. Many friends have lost everything. My wife and I are currently staying at friends while we await word on our home in Malibu. We’re told it’s still standing and un-burnt.
Best wishes to all, especially those harmed by the fires.
I’m so sorry for your loss. What a catastrophe.
I am so sorry to hear about the house and studio. I have enjoyed looking in awe at the origami creations shown online. I am glad that people and animals are safe. Best wishes as you look toward rebuilding.
So sorry for your loss Robert. So devastating.
Yes, the calm narration almost seemed like Robert was documenting someone else’s home. I can’t imagine all the origami art that was lost. I’ve always enjoyed both the art and wildlife photos that you’ve shared over the years. That is a beautiful area. Hopefully the lovely wildlife was able to keep ahead of the flames, but as you described, those Santa Anas made for a fast and fierce inferno. I see a very busy future ahead, and it seems you have a positive state of mind which is half the battle. Sorry for your loss is woefully inadequate. There is much pain in Southern California right now.
Harrowing. I can’t imagine.
Thanks for including the tortoises.
Best wishes for…some kind of recovery.
Robert and Diane, I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your home. I can hardly imagine what that must be like. I hope something good happens for you.
I can hardly look at the images of the fires. There are several Instagrams that I follow that feature California architecture, and it’s hard rending to see before and after pictures of the homes and businesses that have been lost. The scale is hard to imagine. I saw an image comparing the size of the Great Chicago Fire with the Pacific Palisades fire. It looked like the California fire was about nine times the size already.
The footage of the studio, with its guardian lions, was particularly heartbreaking. Original artwork is irreplaceable. I can only imagine.
I’m in awe at the strength and grace on display here, slightly singed but still standing. Kudos to Robert, The Unburnt. That, like the newly visible mountain view, is a silver lining. We take them where we find them.
Robert and Diane: as with others on this site I am so sorry and without words. Robert, thank you for sharing videos of the incredible mountain and canyon setting of your properties. A friend is visiting his son who lives not far from you in Pasadena near the Norton-Simon and they were given orders to evacuate. They went up to the Hollywood Hills to their old neighborhood to stay at a friend’s house when a few hours later that canyon started to burn and they were off again…this time up the I-5. I am glad that you could stay ahead of the flames and wish you both the best in rebuilding.
And thank you for your description of the community. Hopefully it will return also.
So sorry to hear and see the destruction of Robert Lang’s property. Nature can be brutal.
These fires are unbelievably awful, from what I’ve been reading.
So sorry for your losses and wishing you the best for rebuilding.
Robert, I always loved your descriptions of your chaparral and mountain views. And I am so sorry this has happened. What devastation for Altadena! As I have dear friends who live there, I have spent time at their house over the years and am heart broken for them and for you. Wishing you and your wife a peaceful rebuilding or whatever you choose to do now. We WEIT readers are all rooting for you!
And regarding the snark on the internet: absolutely no place for it. Let’s see some compassion. These are peoples’ homes and lives. While surely more dense with 15-25 million dollar ocean- and canyon- view mansions, the Palisades also still has some one-million dollar (its still california jake!) two-bedroom garden-view bungalows tucked away since the 40’s and 50’s…just folks living their American dream…now taken away. Along those lines, I saw that the entire Malibu Village was razed. So very sad. But i trust Robert’s spirit that they will rebuild.
Excellent points to emphasize.
Also, those now “one-million dollar bungalows” were affordable for people like college professors and deans back in the 70s and 80s when they were bought. Not rich folks by any stretch.
This:
“Robert appears remarkably calm about this, as he was in his email to me about the destruction, which was headed “change of plans.” I would be wailing with grief!”
Just so! First thing that struck me about these videos along with the destruction was the steady, calm voice, even some wry humor.
I would not be able to maintain.
Here in Western Oregon we have acquaintance with people who lost everything in N. California & in the Cascade foothills. With property in the temperate rain forest, we have a wary eye on conditions (late summer/fall) and an evacuation plan. I recall a climate seminar from (15 or 20 years ago? — Say it Ain’t So, Smokey)
Such a horrible event and probably just a hint of what’s to come. Maybe new building codes can limit the hazards for replacement structures.
Those videos are hard to watch… hang in there.
Equanimity really shone through from the text. Also, having the thought to give some neighbours good news that their houses survived, really speaks to your character, Robert.
Robert, thank you for that brave report from the inferno! Some of life’s catastrophes seem so unreal they are hard to process.
I echo what others have said – so sorry that you had to go through this. The extent of the damage is heartbreaking and the event that caused it thoroughly horrifying.