In the days following his unexpected death, we found it impossible to look around Los Angeles without seeing Greg.
To many Los Angeles Times readers, Greg Yee was a gifted reporter, someone who put uncommon determination into everything he wrote.
Originally from Los Angeles, he worked at publications in New Mexico, Long Beach and Charleston, South Carolina, before returning to Los Angeles at The Times.
As anyone familiar with Greg’s writing would tell you, he wrote with a flourish while always maintaining the integrity of a piece. He saw narratives everywhere he went and used this talent to shine as a reporter and storyteller.
Greg Yee was a native of Los Angeles.
(Greg Yee / Los Angeles Times)
The Greg we knew was much less serious.
We met a younger, less experienced but no less polished Greg working with him at our college newspaper, UC Irvine’s New University, in 2012. He was editor-in-chief and we were editors under his wing. While he was technically our boss in the newsroom, outside of it he was one of our best friends, a partner in many reckless misadventures, and someone we thought we’d be reminiscing with for years to come.
He was a fool, sometimes pretentious, but always kind and trustworthy. He was the kind of person he could count on, so unconditional and trustworthy.
When we found out he was gone, there was a moment of complete disbelief: “You’re talking about a different Greg, right? GregGreg? It seemed like he would always be around, until she wasn’t.
Image by Greg Yee of the Urban Light installation at the entrance to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.
(Greg Yee / Los Angeles Times)
His footprint is everywhere in Los Angeles; She was born and raised here and loved this city like no one else.
When we were in college in Orange County, he used to drive us to Los Angeles and take us around the city, pointing out murals or landmarks with the practiced recitation of an old-school taxi driver.
Although many of our friends grew up in Southern California, some had never experienced Los Angeles, and those of us who came from out of town found our first real view of the city through the window of Greg’s old Mazda. Although he could be emotionally reserved, we knew that these impulses were a way of showing that he cared about us.
After years of working in Charleston, Greg’s return to Southern California was a celebrated homecoming. As far as we knew, working for The Times was his dream job. His return to Los Angeles coincided with a growing interest in film photography, so naturally his lens was trained on the things closest to him: his family, his friends, and his city.
After his death, we learned how much he loved Los Angeles.
A scene from the Griffith Observatory overlooking downtown Los Angeles.
(Greg Yee / Los Angeles Times)
A crowd of tourists gathers to take photographs of the Hollywood sign.
(Greg Yee / Los Angeles Times)
With the help of his family, we discovered hundreds of film negatives from Los Angeles, many of them taken while driving around the city and filmed through his car window with his film camera, a Leica M2.
He used to text us some of his photos, most of the time blurry or overexposed shots (his camera was completely manual), with some kind of crazy story about how he got the photo. What we didn’t know was that she had saved some of the best photos of herself. Perhaps she was saving them to publish one day, but more likely she had no ambition for them.
Greg’s eye was unique: he had an enthusiasm and appreciation for natural contours and man-made attractions that others might overlook, but that was also who he was as a man. He was never the type of Angeleno to look down on the city, and if someone did, he would jump to their defense.
His photography reflects this ardent love for the city.
While the casual observer might read the blurred lines as technically clumsy, we see them as giddy, the kind of trembling enthusiasm of someone with so much affection for Los Angeles that it overflows.
While a cynic might scoff at the image of a tourist trap, we know he saw these much-visited sites as important to the city’s tapestry as its most hidden secrets.
In short: his photographs are a postcard from home, from home.
On the left, Greg’s appreciation of street food and photography is combined, highlighting his respect for both art forms. Right, the Angels Flight funicular begins its descent into downtown Los Angeles. (Greg Yee / Los Angeles Times)
They are a warm hug from every neighborhood you visited. They don’t need to be brave or nervous to be beautiful because Greg wasn’t like that. He was never arrogant; Instead, he was kind and curious, a gentle man who never lost the mischievous streak we knew him for in college.
We cannot know what Greg really thought of these photographs. Even if we could ask him, he would probably make some self-deprecating joke and laugh at us. But working for the last year archiving photos of him, one thing has become very clear: he had an unconditional and unmatched love for every corner of this place.
Now that he is gone, looking at his photographs is almost like going back in time for one last trip. We can imagine ourselves back in Greg’s car, one of his playlists blasting on the stereo, the city blurring as he laughs at a terrible mural or reflects on a trendy cafe that replaced a grand old bakery. Him leaving these photos behind was a gift he didn’t know he was giving us, a bittersweet reflection on Los Angeles that we wish he could continue.
The sun sets over the City of Angels.
(Greg Yee / Los Angeles Times)
These, in our opinion, are some of Greg’s best photographs.
We hope that you, like us, feel the love that emanates from these photos, and that perhaps you will even be inspired to stop during your next trip to admire the city, breathe in Los Angeles, and appreciate its landscape in the same way. Greg did it.
Greg would have turned 35 today.