In the burned patios of Altadena, a photographer captures the return of nature


Night falls in Altadena as bats circle, peacocks howl, and the photographer Kevin Cooley Try to capture what's left of a tree.

Using strobes and a long exposure time to allow the maximum amount of available light to reach his lens, Cooley takes about 50 shots of the 20-foot-tall tree, which watches over a street where almost all the houses have burned down. The tree's branches were cut off in the wake of the Eaton Fire in January 2025, which devastated Altadena and part of Pasadena, but all these months after the fire, there is new growth on the tree.

Photographer Kevin Cooley sets up a camera to take photographs for his series.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Small tufts of green leaves have emerged from raw cuts where charred branches once stood, proving that the tree is tougher than its relatively austere exterior might suggest.

Cooley, 51, a fine art and news photographer for decades, is using images like the one he took of the tree as part of his new project, “In Eaton Gardens.” A collection of 6,000 photographs and counting those Cooley has taken in Altadena on wild lots where homes once stood, “In the Gardens of Eaton” aims to capture fragments of natural beauty that have endured despite the ravages of the fire and its aftermath.

Cooley has lived in Altadena since 2000 and knew his neighbors well. He began working on the photography project several months after losing his home in the fire. He had recruited a group called Samaritan's Purse to come to his lot, where he found a flat metal file that he had used to store his photographic prints. Cooley was hopeful that some had survived, but when the group opened it, he says it quickly became clear that the burning metal had acted like a furnace, burning almost everything inside to a charred state.

A ponytail palm on Atenas Street at dusk.

A ponytail palm tree on Atenas Street photographed for “In the Gardens of Eaton” by Kevin Cooley.

(Kevin Cooley)

However, one piece Cooley was able to identify was a 2020 copy of Wired magazine for which he had photographed the cover. It featured a swirling column of smoke that accompanied the story “The infernos of the West are melting our sense of how fire works”, and the irony was not lost on him.

“You could still make out the word Wired at the top of the masthead and something about that blew my mind,” Cooley says. “It's like everything came full circle. I immediately wanted to photograph it the same way I had originally photographed the smoke, which was in a studio with lighting, and I think that made something click for me. I started to feel like there was a way to do something positive after the fire, and that's when I started spending more time in Altadena.”

Driving around town, looking at the lots and debris, Cooley says he began to notice the fragments of nature trying to persevere. He saw a begonia peeking through a burned fence on his neighbor's property and took a photo, and soon he was accumulating more and more similar images. Cooley says if he had been told before the fire that he would be taking so many pictures of flowers, he would have scoffed, but now images like one he captured recently of a group of blooming roses in front of a clump of dead vines remind him that perseverance is possible no matter the odds.

Photographer Kevin Cooley poses for a portrait in a gallery.

Cooley stands in front of some of his photographs displayed in a Culver City gallery.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

“It's inspiring what nature does up there,” Cooley says. “We live in this environment where fire is a big part of the ecology, but people's gardens are also moving forward. There are native and non-native species. And people are planting more wildflowers, and that's cathartic. I'm excited to rebuild, too, because I really can't wait to get back.”

Letizia Ragusa, an Altadena resident who lost her home, says Cooley photographed her flower-filled lot without her knowing. Before the fire, their yard was a paradise with 16 fruit trees, a koi pond, and a vegetable and herb garden. All of that was lost in the fire. As a method of survival and shoring up the terrain, Ragusa hired a company from the Sierra Madre called Resilient Californians Plant a remedial seed mix throughout your lot.

El Molino geraniums captured for Cooley's “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

El Molino geraniums captured for Cooley's “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

(Kevin Cooley)

Seeing native plants and flowers start to appear on their lot was important, Ragusa says. He has been living in a rented apartment with his family since the fire and there is no yard or space for a garden.

“It's really comforting for me to have some sense of control when everything else seems so out of control right now,” Ragusa says. “At least I have this little piece of land where I can plant things and I know that's what's going to happen. It's very predictable, and I think it makes other people happy too. I see people driving and walking by stopping to look at it. And all of our neighbors have commented on it too, so it's nice.”

The photographs Cooley took on the Ragusa property were of rows of pink and purple native flowers and sunflowers amid city lights and a dreamy sunset. Ragusa says they are surreal and beautiful.

“It's outdoor photography, but with a studio element,” she says, noting that she is especially open to Cooley's process because she is an artist herself and previously produced ceramics and sculpture in a home studio that she also lost.

Cooley works installing lights for a recent photo shoot.

Cooley works installing lights for a recent photo shoot.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

While the initial photos Cooley took of his yard were of the street and driveway, he has since given her permission to delve deeper into his lot. It's something Cooley says is important to him because he knows firsthand that many people's lots are what he calls “sacred ground.”

Most of the photos Cooley has taken so far have been from afar, although he has set up his equipment near the end of people's driveways to get a good photo. As word has spread about Cooley's project in Altadena, and one resident has posted a photo of him on his lot captured via a trail camera in a local Facebook group, seeking more information, more and more people have expressed their willingness to have him come photograph their yards.

Honeysuckle on Via Maderas captured for “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

Honeysuckle on Via Maderas captured for “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

(Kevin Cooley)

Cooley has created a google form for interested residents to use and keeps a spreadsheet of the responses on a clipboard on the dashboard of his car. When he doesn't know what to photograph next, he looks at it, mentally tracing directions in his mind and looking at descriptions of his lots submitted by residents, which include phrases like “We don't have much left, but we saved our banana plant” and “[Our house] “I became the gardener that I am and decorated it with plants.”

Cooley says he intends to take photos for all the homeowners who responded to his Google form, hoping to give them away prints when the project is complete. Starting in July, he will travel to Portugal for a six-month art fellowship, but says he plans to continue the photography project later. Cooley would also like to produce an art book with his favorite photographs from the project.

You're also aware that in some ways you have a time limit on what you can shoot. He says he spent the first part of the project “racing against the Army Corps” as they cleared lots, and now he's trying to photograph nature-filled lots before their owners level them and begin rebuilding.

Skulls Roses at night.

Calaveras Roses photographed for “In the Gardens of Eaton”.

(Kevin Cooley)

Sometimes, Cooley says, he had to photograph on land where he didn't know the owner. When he began the project, he made an effort to track down who lived on the property before setting up his camera, but the process was surprisingly arduous and he often missed the intended shot when flowers or plants died or changed shape.

“It wasn't practical,” Cooley says. “It's not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't understand it. However, eventually I will and then I can present a photograph to people when they return to their new homes.

“I think Altadena is a special place,” he says one spring day. “Six months ago, it was very depressing to come here, but not anymore. It's still emotional, of course, but seeing all the reconstruction, it's clear that people see the value in being here, even now. When this is all over, if Altadena is even 50% or 75% as special as it was before, it will still be fantastic.”

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