A Spanish Colonial resort in the Ojai Valley — an east-west valley with mountain walls, which does specific things to the light.
A bluff-top resort above a Laguna cove — read hour by hour, because the marine layer decides the first half of the day and the ocean decides the second.
A large Victorian timber hotel on a San Diego beach — white paint, red roofs and an ocean that sets behind it all.
A modern resort in the Conejo Valley — inland, hot and open, which is one problem with four solutions.
A large Craftsman-revival hotel in Orange County — timber, art glass and low warm light, which is one consistent problem and one consistent gift.
A grey stone mansion on a terraced hillside above Los Angeles — cool stone in a warm city, which changes every exposure.
A grand hotel on a Beverly Hills corner — read hour by hour, because in Los Angeles the hour decides more than the room does.
A glass chapel on the Palos Verdes bluffs — a building made entirely of light, and a site with an unusual present-day complication.
A cliff-top property high above the Pacific in Big Sur, and the one frame it exists to give.
A university research garden in a canyon in the Berkeley hills — organised by continent, which makes the light change from bed to bed.