Last two shots of LA, both taken from Griffith Observatory.
A few more shots from Los Angeles. First, a liquor store at Grand Central Market.
I would not have thought I’d see one of the coolest bookstores ever in Los Angeles. But The Last Bookstore downtown is just that. Besides having a great selection, they’ve taken to using old books as part of the decor, especially on the labyrinthine mezzanine level.
This plaza was to mark the center of Los Angeles at the time of its founding by the Spanish in the late eighteenth century.
Three shots from around downtown Los Angeles.
The guy walking in the above shot yelled at me about taking his picture, so I had to put him in.
Downtown Los Angeles plays Garfunkel to Hollywood’s Simon. Taken from Mullholland Drive.
I had heard that the Griffith Observatory, which sits on the same mountainside as the iconic Hollywood sign, is a great place to view the city, especially at sunset. Turns out, that is hardly a hipster secret; the serpentine road leading up the hill was jammed with parked cars, as the observatory’s small parking lot had long since filled up. The Griffith is a large facility, with many terraces overlooking the city, so that even with hundreds of people milling about, I could find a place to set up a tripod without much trouble.
On the whole, I will call this shoot a learning experience. There are a lot of factors involved in getting a good sunset shot, and I was trying to figure them out on the fly. After over an hour of shooting, I came away with precious little photographically that would stack up to the live experience. The pano-cropped shot below seems to be my best effort. It was taken probably 10-15 minutes after the sun had dipped below the horizon.
A shot from downtown LA. In this photo I tried to channel a bit of the style of Meho, who is a photographer you should check out.
I’ve returned from a week in LA with a few shots to share. It wasn’t explicitly a photo trip, but I got some pictures which I think don’t suck. On the first day, we rode up the Pacific Coast Highway, which I think may have to be a destination in itself one day. Shot this from the beach while fog (or, as it’s referred to here, the marine layer) was rolling in.
Ticket booth for abandoned amusement park, northern Ohio.
A long-stilled ferris wheel still stands in an old amusement park somewhere in the wilds of Ohio.
The following is a bit of a rehashing and expansion on a subject already covered by the Idiot Photographer here. This is my turn to throw in my photographic two cents’ worth.
There is a ravine that runs through a part of southwest Cleveland which kept two racially disparate neighborhoods separated. The city built a 680 foot long suspension footbridge spanning the gorge in 1931. Amidst racial tensions in the 60’s, someone burned the wooden deck of the bridge, leaving it unusable. Ever since, it has been completely forgotten. Now, it is so overgrown it can’t easily be seen from the streets it once connected, and most Clevelanders have not heard of it.
There is a certain feeling one gets upon finding an object of which landscapers working mere yards away were wholly unaware. That feeling, for me, is the essence of urbex.
Bertrand Russell famously wrote an essay entitled “Why I Am Not a Christian“. Were I to offer a similar argument in the form of a photograph, the following could well be the result. For details on what the mural depicts, click here.
Pianos. They are everywhere we go. Too big and heavy to move, these instruments are usually left behind in schools, theaters, and, as is in this case, churches. They may be an enduring urbex trope, but one which I don’t see myself tiring of anytime soon. This from Cleveland last month.
From a shuttered amusement park in the middle of Ohio. Nature has reclaimed most of what there was to see, with rusted rails furtively peeking out of dense foliage before plunging again into the thicket.
From a defunct hospital in Kentucky.
As some of you may have gathered from Tabulua Rasa’s previous comments he and I recently took a little road trip out to Cleveland to see what we could see. While it was not the most productive trip for me, photographically speaking, I’ve managed to cobble together an image here and there such as this chance discovery I made while we were driving around a very not abandoned neighborhood.
I’m always a little sad to see a door or window bricked over and in this case we have a still active building that, while not the prettiest industrial brick beast, still had a couple of flourishes and charms as well as the scars where details were removed.
A reminder that the fastest way between two points is not always the most desirable.
I wish the experience of photographing abandoned, decrepit and overgrown schools would in some way redeem the experience of having attended them. It doesn’t. But bitterness towards one’s youth is bitterness wasted, and photographing old school buildings is awesome.
That’s as fine a manifesto as any with which to bring you the following.
I felt a bit inspired by the Idiot Photographer’s previous post (see it here) to come up with a suitable response. Detail and macro photography has always been a weak spot for me, but I throw my hat into the ring with this shot.
The Idiot Photographer has for some time been posting shots from our recent trip to Ohio, so it’s up to me to catch up. We spent most of our time in Cleveland, so it’s fitting we begin here. Below: Carnegie Avenue bridge over the Cuyahoga River.
It is unfortunate that this last post of my series on Buenos Aires would fall on the day of their loss in the World Cup final. I did watch the whole damn thing, hoping that the clock would wind down and the match would go to penalty kicks, as the Germans seem to dominate more as the game went on, and penalties seemed like the Argentinians best chance at stealing the Cup. Alas, not to be.
Here are some shots from around the city, with no particular theme other than they were shots I deemed blogworthy, but found no place for in other posts.
One of the many decrepit buildings in Buenos Aires:
Shots of the Casa Rosada, or pink house, which is the presidential palace of Argentina. One theory on the origin of the distinct color of the palace is that bull’s blood was used in the first coat of paint, supposedly to counteract the effects of humidity on the structure. Whatever the case, it makes for a visually striking building, especially at night.
And here is the Obelisk, meant to celebrate some military victory or other. I don’t remember. It’s enough that it’s tall and phallic, that’s enough for some compelling photography.
Two shots of this bridge from opposing sides.
The Buenos Aires neighborhood of La Boca is famous for two reasons: first, it lays claim to being the birthplace of the tango; second, it is home to Boca Juniors, the soccer club on which Maradona played. It also has the most color, both literally and figuratively. My experience there was mixed. The bus dropped me off a block from el Caminito, which is the exact area where tango was said to be born. It’s pretty, sure, but it’s also tourist hell, with buskers everywhere and maitre ‘d’s falling over themselves to pull you into their restaurants.
I chafe in these places when I feel that just having a camera on me makes me a mark. So I kept walking. And soon, I found a friend. Or rather, she found me.
This dog followed me for almost an hour, to the point where I was worried about what I was going to do when I got back to my hotel. I stopped, she stopped; I went into a store, she would wait outside. I think it was the initial petting that made me such a fast friend. Having a companion made for a lively walk. As I said, La Boca is colorful.
I had read in the guidebook about the neighborhood being a bit dodgy, but I kept walking along and shooting until an older woman began speaking to me. At first I protested with my standard No tiendo (“I don’t understand”), but she persisted, using body language and a few words of English to make herself understood: put the camera away or else you’ll get robbed, or worse. I took her advice, happy I was able to get at least some decent shots of the neighborhood.
Former dock cranes line the canal separating the Centro from Puerto Madero, an aesthetic nod to the neighborhood’s blue-collar past. The areas is now home to upscale restaurants and hotels.