MacArthur Park’s Polaroid portraitists are fading away

A portrait of Javier Prado at MacArthur Park. When he arrived on the scene, he put his cowboy charm to use. He began to call himself El Aguila (“the Eagle”) and, in a giant sombrero, snake boots and collared shirts in loud colors, sang self-written songs to passersby. He smiled and he teased, asking customers about their homelands, their voyage north, their jobs.
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Efren Castellanos composes a photograph at MacArthur Park. Castellanos, the one other shooters call La Hormiga (“the Ant”), brazenly goes wherever he pleases. He should, he argues. He’s been here the longest.
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A portrait of Efren Castellanos at MacArthur Park. When he arrived on the scene, he offered multiple exposures -- photographs that, like funhouse mirrors, repeated the image of a person’s face, the lake, the high-rises and the palm trees.
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Polaroid photographer Ramon Alvarez sits on a concrete bench in MacArthur Park, waiting for customers to have their picture taken. Business has crawled to a near standstill in recent years, but Alvarez keeps coming to the park by bus from his Van Nuys home.
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A portrait of Ramon Alvarez at MacArthur Park. Even after he broke his leg and became dependent on a powered wheelchair, he continued to show up, toting his miniature flags and sheets of samples.
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Maricela Garcia, center, tries to strike a bargain for family photos from Efren Castellanos, right. He was in his late 20s when he first arrived at MacArthur Park. At 68, he is determined to be the last to leave -- even if showing up day after day isn’t always easy.  (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Efren Castellanos unfurls a giant backdrop with an image of MacArthur Park and downtown Los Angeles. He places people in front of the canvas lake, though in most frames one can still catch a glimpse of the real one in the background. It makes no sense, the photographer admits, but it gives him an advantage. And that motivates him to keep working.
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Immigrant friends admire their instant photographs taken by Efren Castellanos in MacArthur Park. Castellanos won’t say how much he’s made over nearly 40 years, or what he has done with his money. He doesn’t want the other photographers to know. “I’ll just say I have enough,” he says.
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Javier Prado peels back a Fuji photograph taken with his Polaroid camera. The former cop from Mexico City is waiting to be discovered. One day, he believes, when he least expects it, a talent scout from a popular Mexican band such as Los Tigres del Norte will walk into the park and hear him sing. When the scout learns of his songwriting skills, he will hire him and make him famous.
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Efren Castellanos composes a photo for customers in front of his giant L.A. skyline banner. Three years ago, the job took such a toll he could hardly bring himself to set foot inside the park. Sales were dropping and he grew depressed, fatigued and lonely.
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