Hollywood by Charles Bukowski is a book with its cover by my grandpa John Register. He was a painter in the seventies. He died before I was born at age 57. He was a handsome man who dropped out of his big time city job to become a painter, and he told great stories. These stories were retold through my mom. He painted American life, desolate spaces, empty pools, and long casted shadows that seem to say a lot about his perspective dealing with cancer. 

My mom has told me a story that he told her about his painting Mojave Couple, 1987. He was walking through a suburban neighbourhood and didn’t want to photograph the couple without asking permission. So he asked, “Can I take your photograph?” And the stranger responded, “What’s it for?” Register responded, “I’m just walking around taking pictures, trying to figure life out.” Stranger says, “Do you want a beer?”