After enjoying some Dim Sum in Hanover, we took a short cut through Laurel to avoid a long thread of highway traffic. As we were driving alongside Brock Bridge Correctional Facility. We came across some abandoned houses that warranted further exploration. With my history of trespassing, the “Let’s keep it safe.” motto of my wife, and my recent binge watching of “Stranger Things.” I decided to take a few shots without getting too close to the creaky house. Better safe than…
Tag: No Trespassing
We Are All in Perpetual Movement
We live in an ever-changing world where we are constantly in perpetual movement. Very few, if anything holds permanence. While not a bad thing per say. It’s one of the founding principles that influenced my becoming a photographer who felt it important to document my surroundings.The need to explore and document things that may soon be gone is one of the key factors in what originally drew me to photography.
Knowing full well that changes would soon come to one of my current favorite local photo destinations. I took a ride with the wife to see what had developed since my last visit. As we drove closer. The unwelcoming sound of barking dogs echoed in the distance. The immediate question “Could that barking be coming from indie the construction site?” and if so, “Where those dogs chained up or were they loose?” Knowing the answer would soon reveal itself. I proceeded with extreme caution.
Just as predicted. The incessant barking was coming from two Pit Bulls inside and thankfully, not roaming around awaiting their next meal. While it always pains me to see such beautiful animals being chained or caged. I was greatful to feel a bit safer while I quickly got what I came for. Noting the projects progress, the precence of trucks and of course the guard dogs. I relized that this was in all likelyhood, my last visit here. And while we were happy to see that the dogd had plenty of food and water. We made it a point to report the siting to both the lacal Humane Society and Police.
Over the last several weekends my wife and I have turned our attention from NYC’s Chinatown and it’s yummy dim sum and directed it south towards Newark, NJ’s tasty Portuguese bakeries. Though I certainly brought my appetite the first time around. My camera was nowhere to be found. When our first trip produced a series of ooooh’s and ahhh’s. I couldn’t wait to come back with my camera to document the historic beauty, history and texture Newark had to offer. So after a tasty breakfast of grilled cheese and sonhas at Suissa’s. We drove off to do some exploring while on our way to Clifton.
As we headed on to Passaic Ave. I began to recognize the factories and warehouses. “I was here a few years back.” I exclaimed. Just then, I noticed a Newark patrol care and quickly recalled being held and questioned by a task force I had no idea ever existed. Quickly, I shoved the camera back in the bag until I was sure we were not being tailed and were completely out of the range of any city or state authorities. Within minutes we found a local strip mall, parked and took to foot. I can’t pinpoint just what attracts me to what most see as ugly and broken down. Sometimes it makes me think of the excitement those early trips to the junkyards with my Dad or the trashy treats my Mom would find at local flea market. Whatever the roots may be. I’m grateful that something so simple can make me feel like a kid in a candy store. Isn’t that what life’s all about anyway?
Rhode Island Wreckage
We had a long road ahead of us on our trip home from Boston. One which included a lunch stop for oysters and lobster at Moorings in Newport. There weren’t going to be many opportunities to stop and indulge myself taking pictures of the overwhelming amount of visual stimulation we were viewing along the way. I knew this full well and held my tongue as we passed the countless farmhouses and deteriorating structures that highlight our chosen stretch of road. The conversation quickly turned to my wife’s favorite subject, (aside from food) photography. I began to spin my sob story about how much of the things I love to shoot are becoming harder and harder to access due to the continuous whitewashing and franchising of so much of the things unique, gritty and dirty.
Just as I headed into mid rant, I hit the brakes suddenly and swung the car into reverse. There it was, my personal playground. I paused for a few seconds. Used my peripherals to spy any local authorities of black ops before leaping from the car with my camera. Knowing full well what had just happened she shouted “Be careful.” So while she waited in the car keeping a watchful eye for the law. I sorted through the wreckage and refuse of what used to be an automotive repair shop. From my childhood days of scavenging the numerous junk yards behind Shea Stadium to my current hunting trips for all things left behind. I’m drawn to these stark treasures. Got junk?