Agave at Sunset

Showing posts with label urban decay photography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label urban decay photography. Show all posts

1/20/10

Take It To the Streets?

I've been reading a discussion on Photocritic.com about the future of street photography. One poster asked if there were markets for that kind of photograph, and if there were ways to make a living from it. The responses were largely negative -- several people said that kind of work was of interest as a hobby or with limited local exposure, such as in a coffee house or craft fair, but that nobody really buys it. Others observed that street pix are problematic because of the issue of model releases -- fear of legal repercussions tends to stifle the kind of candid street shot that made people like Cartier-Bresson famous. The other question raised had to do with the genre itself -- is "street photography" as it's been traditionally understood actually dead?



I've been asked many times what kind of photography I do, and it was difficult to describe it until terms like "urban dereliction," "urban decay" and "urban landscape"  came into currency.  Photographers like me are interested in what happens on the street itself, when there are no people around, and what we find there. One dereliction photographer pointed out that what is fascinating to us is the traces left behind by people -- buildings, found art, abandoned items and so forth - which creates the urban landscape. This ornate trash can on Tucson's bohemian Fourth Avenue is one example.

Street photography, on the other hand, is something different, focusing on the candid capture of street life and the movement of people.  And in our litigation happy society, when people are finding inconvenient images of themselves all over the Internet, the person with the camera becomes a threat and the  shot is something to be feared.  Stifles creativity just a tad, I'd say.  So maybe street photography as it's been traditionally known really is dead, or at least moribund, and street photographs have lost the impact that they once had.  Related types of photography like the photoessay or photojournalistic work do seem to be flourishing though.  Maybe it has to do with that blending of narrative and image.

Anyway, although I've always counted the great street photographers to be my main inspiration, I'll stick with photographing that gutted couch I saw in the alley the other day.  I don't think it's too concerned about signing a release.

12/7/09

Photographing the Ruins

I have the opportunity to photograph a burned Harley!  And I'm going to the railroad yard to explore the graffiti covered cars.  Rust, decaying wood,  the skeletal remains of a collapsed building -- these are the subjects of my heart, the targets of my trusty Rebel with its Sigma telephoto lens.

A student asked the other day why I was so excited about my shoot at the abandoned warehouses in the barrio. Why didn't I want to photograph babies, she asked, or sunsets, or puppies?  Well ... there's beauty in everything. And what can I say?  A collapsing shed just draws my eye.  

I was pleased to see the recent (September 09)  "Dereliction Special" issue of Practical Photography, which showcased photographs of rusting cars, abandoned houses and decaying barns -- just my style!  Photography like this goes under various labels: urban decay, urban dereliction, urban landscape, industrial, grunge.  What it all has in common is a fascination with the remnants and traces of human creation and a love of the strange beauty left behind when things are abandoned, trashed or left to decay.

Search the web for galleries; browse the stock sites using any of the keywords I just mentioned. You'll find some stunning images, offering glimpses of  a world so many never notice. Over the next few weeks in this blog I'll be talking more about dereliction photography, how it's done, and where it can be seen.  I'll include links to galleries and photographers and discuss images of my own.  There's an old quote: "Rust never sleeps."  And sometimes -- it creates art.