When I immigrated to Los Angeles from Paris over 20 years ago, I took one fascination from the City of Lights with me to the City of Angels: phone booths. I know they're not glamorous. No one ever looked past the Eiffel Tower or the Hollywood sign and spotted a particularly exciting phone booth. But for me, there's a charm and individualism about each one that, if you look closely, always tells a story. There was a time when we used these booths — these small spaces once occupied by humans — to connect with one another, whether to share happy or tragic news (or, in a few cases, change into our superhero outfits). And when we no longer needed them, we left them. There's a story behind each and every single one. 

The various phone booths I photographed across Los Angeles paint a composite picture of a city that is never comfortable unless it's changing. And, as I've learned, rapid change is the great nemesis of any technology. 

A phone booth was meant to be used by someone to make a phone call. That was its mission. When you remove the human from the equation, you’re left with a shell of a space that never wanted the spotlight, but now, with the right lens, finds itself standing center stage, raw, alone and out of service.