I met el Huero (the Blond) during a shoot in 2009. He drove a low rider orange car with his name embedded on the tag. After some small talk about cars and East LA, he asked me about my tattoos. He was wearing a wife beater, so I could also see his tattoos, which he proudly showed off and told me he got them while in prison. “If you like tattoos, you should meet my son,” he said, “he’s got the most beautiful Jesus Christ tattoo”. I went back to work, and when we wrapped up the photo shoot, a young man walked up to me and said, “Hey, are you friends with my dad? He said you should look at my tattoo?” He pointed to his throat, and there was Jesus Christ. The Huero’s son told me he was a tattoo artist, and he set up shop in his parents’ garage, where he worked and perfected his craft. He looked forward to the moment when his dad came back from jail, so he would be able to work on him and fix the the tattoos he got throughout the years. To me, this series of portraits isn’t about Los Angeles, or cars, or even tattoos. It’s about family, and the respect  and the pride they had for each other.