A Blind Photographer Helps Another Artist See

by Dianne Morton

My husband and I are involved with various organizations, all very near and dear to our hearts. Our connection to such work offers us the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life. Additionally, it gives us a chance to form real relationships, which have a lasting impact on both of our lives.

As a child, my parents were involved with Guide Dogs for the Blind (San Rafael, CA), and I grew up understanding the important work of these organizations for the visually impaired. As the owner of a “career change” dog, I often took my German Shepard, Addie, to work as a distraction on the obstacle course for guide dogs in training. Over time, I recognized that a trained guide dog offers tremendous independence and companionship. When Brian and I were dating, I was pleased to learn that his parents were involved with a similar organization called Guide Dogs of America (Sylmar, CA).

Through our involvement with Guide Dogs of America, we’ve befriended a woman who lost her vision at 35. Can you imagine that? Lori was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when she was a teenager. Although her disease was managed with the best available treatment, while sitting at her work desk one day, her vision ceased in one eye. Soon after, she lost vision in the other.

My friendship with Lori has caused me to pause. As a photographer, I can’t imagine my life without my camera, my passion. Yet, Lori and her guide dog, Carter, are content and happy, and she has an irreverent, hysterical sense of humor. As an active voice for Guide Dogs of America, Lori relishes her role of marketing, bringing awareness and support from many resources.

Nevertheless, I wonder: How does a visually impaired person see creatively?

I recently visited a bookstore and stumbled upon the book The Blind Photographer; of course, I purchased it, adding to my growing collection of photography books.

As I read and reviewed the photographs, the imagery from blind photographers worldwide captivated me. I was struck by the work and writing of one particular photographer, Evgen Bavčar (Slovenian, b. 1946):

“Photography must belong to the blind, who in their daily existence have learned to become masters of camera obscura. 

Camera obscura has existed for a long time; it is, for example, the concept of the cave in Plato’s philosophy and later the invention of the darkroom, which photographers entered blind: in the nineteenth century, the pioneers of photography would veil themselves and join the darkness in order to better control the image appearing on the sensitive plate. 

Today, the modern work runs the great danger of lacking in darkness, and one will have to seek the invisible in the quest for new aesthetic solutions. For me, photography does not only represent a medium of artistic expression; it is also a manner of reclaiming one’s right to the image, and the refusal to be another’s passive model. 

All the images that I create exist beforehand in my mind and are perceived by my third eye, that of the soul.

 Being a philosopher, I am passionate about art history. I sometimes meditate upon the following phrase: ‘The more visible the world grows, the more invisible the world shrinks’, and so the words of Kazantzakis come back to me: ‘Such a shame for our eyes of clay, which cannot attain the invisible’. But this world is here; it is, so to speak, within arm’s reach.”

Caligula’s Head, Naples | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Caligula’s Head, Naples | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Hand on Stone, Pompeii | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

The Door of Fuzine | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Like my friend Lori, Bavčar was born with vision; however, he lost it before age 12 due to two repeated accidents. A few years later, he held a camera for the first time and took a photo of his first love:

“The pleasure I felt then resulted from my having robbed and fixed on a film something that did not belong to me. I secretly discovered I could possess something I could not see.”

Soon after, Bavčar went on to study history at the University of Ljubljana followed by philosophy at the Sorbonne. While embarking on his post-graduate education in Paris, Bavčar deepened his passion for photography; his work has been exhibited throughout the world.

What I find most interesting about Bavčar’s artistry is his inspirational explanation of his work. He places pictorial beauty within the context of blindness, a paradoxical juxtaposition for the sighted. Bavčar’s series Itineraries delivers beautifully ethereal images, which depict precisely what Bavčar imagines. With the original concept he envisions, Bavčar endeavors to translate his mental image to a physical record, which best represents the “work of what is imagined.”

Artist Statement—

ITINERARIES | Evgen Bavčar

I was only seven years old when my father died.
The most vivid memory I have of him is of a toy gun he made for me, as if to say to me: never stop fighting destiny.
I was still unaware that I belonged to a small nation threatened by others. How could I have realized then that
it would be the same for me and that I would need so much energy to defend my own identity?

I was a terrible child, who the teachers could hardly teach.
I especially liked technology and reading. One day a branch damaged my left eye, and I was unable to predict the great calamity which had been forewarned. For months, I observed the world with just one eye, until one day a mine detonator damaged my right eye as well. I didn't become blind immediately but little by little. It went on for months,
as if it were a long farewell to light. So, all the time I had to quickly capture the most beautiful things, images of books, colors and celestial phenomena, and to take them with me
on a voyage of no return. 

While I still detected some traces of light and color,
I was happy because I could still see. I retain a vivid memory of the moments of my farewell to the visible world.
But monochromy invaded my life, and I have to strive to retain the palette and its hues. I color the objects and the people that I touch so that the world escapes from monotony and transparency: I know a woman whose voice is so blue that she manages to paint a gray autumnal day blue.
I came across a painter who had a dark red voice,
and chance willed that he should love this color;
that gave me a dark delight. 

I sense the sun by its thermal effects, but I can make mistakes. One day something happened at a friend's home,
whose apartment I didn't know well; as I know where the window is in advance by the noise in the street, I said:
"The sun is strong today!", but I was unaware that it was
a radiator that gave us heat. We laughed together.
At the beginning of my blindness, when I took it more seriously, I used to wear very dark glasses to exaggerate
my condition; nowadays I use clear glasses to look like
an intellectual. 

In museums or in exhibitions I enjoy the presence of all
the silent gazes, the sound of steps that I perceive even
when listening to the voice of my guide, who tries to convey his own gaze to me. Sculpture, on the other hand, gives me
an immediate aesthetic feeling, insofar as I have been given permission to touch the statues, something that is not very common. To touch them is my own way of penetrating the myth of Eros and Psyche, which in every other way
I am outside. The pale reflection of the oil lamp which for
me symbolizes the world of appearances has disappeared.
The nostalgia for those inaccessible realities and the desire
to embark on the road that leads to them remains.
The intellectual nature of my perception urged me to take
my first photos one day, but without any artistic pretension. The smooth surface of the images taken by the camera do not look at me, I only have the physical proof of landscapes and people that I have seen or met. That is to say, my gaze exists only through the simulacrum of the photo that has been seen by someone else. That gaze makes me happy and induces
the images to come to life inside me. 

There is also the mystery of the human gaze that greatly interests me; in my photos, in fact, the people appear very different before the lens and before themselves.
They are different when faced with an unknown or infinite darkness. The absence of the photographer's eye is accentuated by the precarious irreversible moment of taking
a photo; that photo which by coming from a hidden gaze is transformed into a kind of double death. The people who are photographed cannot see themselves in the usual way:
that complicity between the photographer that confirms them in their narcissism is implicitly missing. 

So what is a gaze? It is perhaps the sum of all our dreams
in which we forget the nightmare, when we can look in
a different way. Besides, darkness is no more than an appearance, given that everyone's life, however dark,
is also made up of light. And in the same way as the day often breaks with birdsong, I have learnt how to distinguish
the voice of the morning from the voice of the night.

Self Portrait | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Personally, I find that understanding a blind person’s ability to photographically communicate what is imagined is impossible—and incredibly inspiring. The use of memory, past experiences, and emotions offers Bavčar a magnified way of seeing. He also graces his audiences with his capacity to create artwork against all odds and his ability to interface a fantastic view of the world.

Resources

Gooding, Mel. “CNN Style.” http://www.cnn.com/style/article/the-blind-photographer/index.html. Web. 9/27/2017.

Gooding, Mel, and Julian Rothenstein, ed. The Blind Photographer. London: Redstone Press. 2011.

O’Hagan, Sean. “The Guardian.” https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/aug/20/blind-photographers-talk-about-their-work. Web. 9/30/2017

Sumitra. “Oddity Central.” http://www.odditycentral.com/pics/evgen-bavcar-the-blind-photographer.html. Web. 9/30/2017.

Walker Evans and Vernacular America

Personal Thoughts on the Current Exhibition at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

by Brian Edwards

The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art is having an exhibition entitled Walker Evans that focuses on Evans’ interest in the vernacular. Running from September 30 to February 4, the show includes more than 300 prints of his work, a number of his paintings, postcards, and his personal scrapbook. [7] [9] Reading about this exhibition reminded me of how Walker Evans has influenced my own photographic work and perhaps even my view of the world.

I have often thought of the work of Walker Evans as a combination of social documentary and pre-topographic photography. He was one of the many Farm Service Administration (FSA) photographers that took scores of images documenting the Great Depression and influenced many of that same group of photographers. Stephen Shore has on numerous occasions cited Evans as an important influence on his own work; other photographers claiming similar influence include Robert Frank, Garry Winogrand, Diane Arbus, and Lee Friedlander. [10]

Walker Evans, Truck and Sign 1928-1930 [7] [9]

Another body of work that influenced some of my own has revolved around the notion of the vernacular landscape, which involves capturing the interaction between people and the landscape over time. One principal advocate of this point of view is the writing, photography, and painting of John Brinckeroff (J.B.) Jackson. [2] This movement departs from the modernist view of the landscape perhaps best represented by the work of Ansel Adams, but also departs from the romanticized view of landscapes represented by painters like John Constable, Thomas Gainsborough, and JMW Turner. [8] Adams’ vision of the landscape was diametric to the vernacular view, namely, his vision of the landscape involved representing the landscape in more romantic terms and for the most part reflected a pre-Anthropocene (before the climate and environment were influenced by humans) view of how a landscape image should look. Like the New Topographics movement of the 1970s, the vernacular landscape emphasizes that very interaction. [6]

John Constable, Mill at Gillingham, Dorset, 1825-1826 [4]

What distinguished Jackson’s work from many of the New Topographic photographers is the less formal approach to image-making. The formal, objective view of Bernd and Hilla Becher, for example, is clearly missing in Jackson’s images. [1] If anything, his images share more of what one would see in a collection of slides that just about any road traveler would take while on vacation, even though it’s very likely that subject matter would differ. The common thread is the lack of any attempt to romanticize the landscape.

J.B. Jackson, Collins, Hot Coffee [3]

A thread that runs through much of my own work is a sense of the vernacular, motivated in part by my interest in urban design, the economic viability of small towns, and rural landscapes. My use of tilt-shift lenses, on the other hand, reintroduces some of the formality and objectivity that we see in many of Ansel Adams’ romanticized landscapes as well as in Stephen Shore’s very unromantic cityscapes, but the subject matter is clearly more in line with a more vernacular view of the landscape. 

Brian K. Edwards, Café, Encino, New Mexico, 2017

The focus of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art is the vernacular side of Walker Evans’ work reflecting his own interest in the “surface of everyday life” that “highlights Evans’s [sic] fascination with American popular culture.” [7] Evans’ images of buildings, storefronts, and urban spaces are well known, as is his work documenting the people of his time, but an interesting thread that runs parallel to so much of his work is an interest in the everyday, whether it be a shot of a couple on a New York subway, or another postcard-like shot of a couple on Coney Island. This exhibition sheds a different light on one of the more important photographers of the twentieth century.

Walker Evans, Couple at Coney Island, New York, 1928 [5]

Sources

[1] Bernd and Hilla Becher, Basic Forms of Industrial Buildings, Schirmer/Mosel, 2005.

[2] John Brinckeroff Jackson, Discovering the Vernacular Landscape, Yale University Press, 1998.

[3] John Brinckeroff Jackson, Collins, Hot Coffee, Part of the Chris Wilson Collection of J.B. Jackson American Slides, University of New Mexico University Libraries, http://libguides.unm.edu/cswr/jbjackson/conference

[4] John Constable, Mill at Gillingham, Dorset, 1825-1826, John Constable – the Complete Works, https://www.john-constable.org/the-complete-works.html?pageno=2

[5] Walker Evans, Couple at Coney Island, New York, 1928, The Met, Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History, Walker Evans, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/artist/walker-evans/

[6] Claire O’Neill, New Topographics (Redux), The Picture Show, National Public Radio, June 20, 2009, http://www.npr.org/sections/pictureshow/2009/06/topographics.html

[7] PDN, Walker Evans’s Vernacular America, September 29, 2017, https://potd.pdnonline.com/2017/09/48657/#gallery-1

[8] Michael Prodger, Constable, Turner, Gainsborough and the Making of Landscape, The Guardian November 23, 2012, https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2012/nov/23/constable-turner-gainsborough-making-landscape

[9] San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Walker Evans: Exhibition, September 30, 2017 – February 4, 2018, https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/walker-evans/

[10] John Szarkowski, Walker Evans: American Photographer, Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Walker-Evans

The Making of Weston Fuller's Plastic Surf

"I’ve been blessed as a photographer to experience some amazing places, but I hate when the beauty of a location is tainted with trash," says MFA alumnus Weston Fuller.

This summer, Fuller teamed up with Surfrider Foundation to create PLASTIC SURF, a series of conceptual composites that highlight the proliferation of single use plastics in our ocean waters.

Ultimately, Fuller wants us to take responsibility for the products we consume by recycling and properly disposing of trash.

Pictured below are the plastic items Fuller found on the beaches in Southern California.

Says Fuller, "I wish I could say that it took me awhile to find and collect the items pictured above, but it didn’t. The number one most found items were bottles or bottle caps. Cups, straws and bags came in a close second."

More of PLASTIC SURF and Weston Fuller's work can be seen at https://www.westonfuller.com/

Portfolio: Garrick Morgenweck

In DUSTOFF, BFA student Garrick Morgenweck brings insight to the often unseen military practice of evacuating the wounded and dying from war and conflict zones. Dustoff is backronym for Dedicated Unhesitating Service to Our Fighting Forces -- and a callsign for these actions.

Brotherhood

A mock patient is assisted into the DUSTOFF Helicopter during a field training exercise with 1BCT, 10th Mountain Division

Asks Morgenweck, "What does it take to become someone who lives this life, and often gives it up, to ensure that someone else can live to see another day?"

Post Flight

SGT Christopher Sessoms, Flight Instructor with C Co 3-2 GSAB, 2ID removes flight gear from a UH-60A/L MEDEVAC aircraft on a cold morning

Tucked In

UH-60 Medevac Helicopter in the hangar at daybreak. Camp Humphreys, South Korea

SSG Travis Holley

Flight Paramedic with C 3-2 GSAB, 2CAB, 2ID

Morning Flight

UH-60A/L Blackhawk with C Co, 3-2 GSAB flies over South Korea at dawn during Key Resolve '16

Into the Fray

SPC Daniel Tucker, Crew Chief with C Co. 3-2 GSAB, 2 ID clears the aircraft as the dawn sun rises

"Some of the individuals have volunteered for this duty, most notably the Flight Paramedics and Medical Service Corps Pilots, some have just been assigned to the mission. However, they all have a dedication and passion for the mission that is rarely seen outside their closed world, even in the military."

More of Morgenweck's DUSTOFF can be seen at https://www.mweck.com/index/G0000Br0uHaFfuhU

Art, Travel and Photography: AAU's Braden Summers

Professional travel and luxury photographer Braden Summers discovered early that the key to having a successful career was to surround himself with other professionals. As a result of internships and self-directed study abroad with the Academy of Art University's School of Photography, Braden now has a versatile portfolio of sophisticated imagery.

His work has been featured in Marie Claire UK, on the sites of French Elle, French Glamour, Advocate and The Huffington Post.

In this video, Braden talks more about his experience at AAU.

More of Braden Summers' work can be found at www.bradensummers.com

Landscape As a Witness to History

by Cecilie Oedegaard

Currently residing in Tel Aviv, Israel I recently visited the garden of Gethsemane in Jerusalem’s Ancient City, claimed by Christians as the place where Jesus Christ prayed before he was crucified. The garden is located close to the Mount of Olives and the feeling of being amid history is palpable. In 2012 carbon dating of samples taken from olive trees that can be found in the Garden of Gethsemane, showed that they are at least 900 years old making it likely that these trees are in fact the very trees that were sheltering Jesus at the site where the Bible says he was praying and later betrayed by Judas.

The land of Israel is pervaded by history whether ancient, modern or more recent. Being truly fascinated by the idea of nature as a quiet observant of history led me to the discovery of Israeli contemporary photographer Ori Gersht’s body of work titled Ghost (2004). Socio-political concerns underpin most of Gersht’s work and Ghost is no exception. With this body of work he simultaneously explores the symbolic power and vulnerability of the ancient olive trees in Israel which have been invested with political and cultural significance.

The olive trees Gersht photographed were located in Arab villages throughout the Galilee, the war-torn region in Northern Israel, bordering on Lebanon. The trees represent the Palestinian people, the Arab culture and they signify the bond between the people and the land, and thus the continuity of history. Gersht explains in an interview that the trees actually lived through the Ottoman Occupation, The British Mandate and they are entangled in the current Israeli-Palestinian territorial dispute, spreading indiscriminately, as they do across a physical and symbolic divide. During the Six-day War in 1967 Arab land in the Galilee was claimed by the Israelis and the ancient trees where destroyed in the process of reclaiming land and establishing identity.

Gersht states that he wanted to photograph the silent and beautiful trees and at the same time capture the violent environment they grow in. The violence is expressed through the photographic process, as Gersht intentionally overexposed the photographs in the bright light of the midday sun, bleaching the film and fading the images of the trees. The photographic process hence serves as a metaphor for the fading presence of the majestic trees as they appear both ghostly and delicate, almost dissolving into the earth and sky.

In the artist statement Gersht writes:

"My practice investigates the themes of history’s violence, the poignancy of time’s indifference to what passes and the cyclical relation between past, present and future."

Although the olive trees in Israel as Ori Gersht beautifully captures remain at the centre of an ongoing conflict, in other parts of the world the so-called Witness or Survival trees are offering hope to the ones left behind in tragic events.

In October 2001, a tree was discovered at Ground Zero severely damaged, with snapped roots and burned and broken branches. The tree was removed from the rubble and placed in the care of the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation. After its recovery and rehabilitation, the tree was returned to the Memorial in 2010. New, smooth limbs extended from the stumps, creating a visible demarcation between the tree’s past and present. Today, the tree stands as a living reminder of resilience, survival and rebirth.

In North-East Japan a single Pine became the observer and survivor of a natural disaster when a tsunami killed 1 700 people in the town of Rikuzentakata. It grew into a symbol of hope for the people left behind in this tragic event. The 250-year-old "miracle" pine – was the only one among 70,000 trees left standing along the town's coastline after the disaster.

Throughout history, from the crucifixion of Jesus Christ to our modern times’ Israeli-Palestinian conflict the olive trees of The Holy Land have witnessed endless violence and bloodshed. Are we ever going to see peace in this region? Well, if any get to experience that, it might be the olive trees.

References:

The Edges of Trauma, Explorations in Visual Art and Literature, Tamas Benyei, page 182-183

http://www.thegundgallery.org/2013/02/ghost-olive-olive-4-mark-01-from-the-series-cypresses/

www.reuters.com (Olive trees of Gethsemane among oldest in world,  October 2012)

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/26/arts/design/ori-gersht-history-repeating-at-museum-of-fine-arts-in-boston.html?mcubz=1

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/280390/beauty-tender-fleeting.html

http://www.inglebygallery.com/exhibitions/ori-gersht-jan-brueghel-the-elder/

http://adventure.howstuffworks.com/-witness-trees-testify-history-hope-visitors.htm

Ruins Porn: The line between fascination and exploitation.

by Shannon Polugar

Eric Holubow's "Shedding Stairwell" shot in 2008 at the Hyde Park Hospital in Illinois.

Abandoned places fascinate us and fill us with a variety of emotion: nostalgia for times gone by, a bit of fear, loneliness, awe. When photographs of these abandoned or destroyed places are done well, I think about this fascination in terms of a good amusement park. The nostalgia is the antique carousel. The tempered fear is the dark, haunted house. Loneliness is the ride you love but no one else will ride with you. Awe is taking the ferris wheel just to stop at the top to see the view.

However there is also a side of ruins porn photography that is darker. It is the old, seedy side-shows where some charismatic hustler is making a pitch in front of his booth, enticing the viewer into see some poor “different” person, and making a profit off their suffering. 

The term “Ruins Porn” is credited to being first used by photographer James Griffioen, who used the term when he described how photographers would flock to the abandoned and derelict places in Detroit, not to show the story of the locations but to use the locations for their own entertainment, or to make a point about an unrelated topic. Of course he too photographed these places, but it was the intention that mattered to him.

Part of a short series by James Griffon, this is one of the images that helped to triple traffic to the Vice UK website

I however use the term more liberally. I don’t think it needs to be a term only used to describe those who some may find disrespectful to a place and its history, but as a term for the genre of taking photographs of abandoned places in general. Regardless of the photographer’s intent, the viewer still views the images because there is a quality to them that is fascinating. In his interview with Vice UK, their editor noted that Griffioen’s short series shot inside an abandoned Detroit school tripled the website’s traffic. So to the viewer, at least initially, it still deserves the ‘porn’ descriptor.

While Griffioen considered those using the long abandoned places for their own entertainment in terms of photography as bad apples, on the spectrum of ruins porn, I would argue they were the kids playing pranks: tasteless, but not inherently harmful.

There are far worse versions of ruins porn, and the debate is not a new one, though with the recent destructive forces of Hurricane Harvey in Texas and Hurricane Irma in the Caribbean and Florida, it is a topic ripe to be readdressed. Just as Griffioen complained about people flocking to his hometown in his interview with ArtNews in 2013, “with $40,000 cameras to take pictures of houses worth less than their hotel bills,” people also flock to natural disasters to do the same.

So what is the difference? It is the immediacy of human suffering. While in Griffioen’s Detroit the community has long suffered, the places photographers are flocking to for their fix of ruins porn are long detached from the individual. The abandoned Packard plant hasn’t been anyone’s place of work since the 1950s. The abandoned schools he muddles through haven’t seen a student since the late 1980s.

But the hurricanes and other natural disasters bring fresh destruction. Deaths are still being mourned. People are far from ‘moving on.’ In these cases if a photographer chooses to go, one has to be far more careful in their subject matter and intent. Their goal should be documentation, telling the story of the disaster and situation for what it is rather than entertainment value.

Victims of Hurricane Irma pick up the remains of their family business, but did they have any choice in their lives being photographed for the view of others?

Just this morning I came across the photograph above, and the attached article. At least the article helps get across the story of the people in the image, but one also can’t help but feel uncomfortable by it either. The reporter likely asked permission in this situation to photograph them as they pick of the pieces of their lives, but there it is also a hard situation to back out of. People want to be polite and helpful, and saying ‘yes’ could be easier than the perceived stress of someone asking again if you say no.

Some may argue that to documentary value wins out here, but I think if one asks themselves if they would want to be photographed in the same situation. The answer may change. Imagine the same scenario Griffioen described with the $40,000 cameras and outrageous hotel bills, and those people coming to photograph the mere fact that you just lost everything. You are suffering, without a home, without a business. They get to go back to their lives and livelihood. Where do you come out ahead by being their muse? Now imagine even worse that they aren’t a reporter for a non-profit news organization as with the photo above, but are profiting directly from your suffering? Not so nice.

This isn’t to say ruin porn in relation to disaster photography doesn’t have a necessary role, but the photographer should not be there because it is ‘cool’. It should be in service to the community in suffering.

Image 12 in the Silent Existence series, taken of the aftermath of the 2011 Japanese Earthquake and Tsunami, in city of Ishinomaki. Hyakutake presents the images as a ‘new page in Japanese postwar history’.

Tetsugo Hyakutake’s series “Silent Existence”, taken of the aftermath of the 2011 Japanese Earthquake and Tsunami is a good example of how one can document in the realm of ruins porn without taking advantage of the people who are suffering. He took the images with no one else around, the people had left. Their suffering while recent was not immediately present in the images.

Back to James Griffioen. He doesn’t go traveling across the country to the latest and greatest site that has been ‘found’ to photograph the abandoned remnants of society. He stays in his own area, a place where he is personally invested, and a place where he feels that his voice as a photographer can add to our understanding of the predicaments his city has faced.

His approach should be the goal of ruins photography: adding meaning to the places that remain even as we seek out the photographs because of our own personal attraction to the emotions they bring forth.

http://ebow.org/section/76239-Hyde-Park-Hospital.html

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/ppzb9z/something-something-something-detroit-994-v16n8

http://www.jamesgriffioen.net/index.php?/photography/vacant-schools/

http://www.artnews.com/2013/02/06/the-debate-over-ruin-porn/

http://www.npr.org/2017/09/13/550640402/-looks-like-a-bomb-went-off-returning-home-to-a-trailer-park-leveled-by-irma

http://www.tetsugohyakutake.com/Silent-Existence