There are many fine urbexers out there who take an active interest in documenting the places they visit, either to highlight an aspect of local history or to help preserve them. While I may be sometimes intrigued by that aspect of urbex, I make no bones that my primary interest in this genre of photography is primarily aesthetic. Sometimes only knowing little about the place you’re seeing heightens the mystery, perhaps makes the story a photo tells a bit more universal. I tend to take a “non-attachment” to the sites we shoot; I find it’s a bit dishonest to bemoan their further decay when that is the very process that allowed us to shoot the pictures we did.
That said, I can’t help be a bit saddened when a site I cut my teeth on gets very rapidly demolished. The Riverdale granary was a massive edifice of metal, rust, concrete and ivy. As of our last visit, only the slim north building still stands. Soon, it too will be gone. It should be remembered that impermanence makes all things possible.
Wandering out a door into the wilderness I find myself confronted with a wall of rust and the shadows of trees dancing across the face of it.
A Plymouth and a VW walk into a slough…
Room after room I find nothing but peeled paint and crumbled plaster. Snippets of wire and empty electrical conduits are scattered everywhere, the scrappers have been through here and taken almost everything. Left in their wake I find small clues as to what purpose this pace one served, preserved in the form of rust.
Oooh…what’s inside? What is it? Is it urban decay? Aw, man… it’s always urban decay. I was hoping for kittens. This is nice too, though.
Playground and schools, Gary.