When my mother, my sister and I came to San Francisco in 1963, we drove down to the beach, got stuck on the great highway, and later ended up lost in this neighborhood near Mount Davidson. As a kid, I marveled at the red steps and storybook architecture. It was that trip that convinced me that San Francisco was a city I could live in.
I liked the hill this view was on. I painted it in the car over a few days. I had to stop by for several days until I found that parked car again.