Feb

The Art of Urban and Rural Exploration

by Eva Boynton on February 2, 2016

A winding staircase in an abandoned building shows how the art of urban exploration makes you see things differently (image © Christian Richter).

The spiraling perspective of an abandoned staircase begs the question:
Who walked up these stairs?
© Christian Richter

See Things Differently, See Beauty in Decay

While perusing the library of my travel photos, I found a surprising result. Faces and landscapes were few and far between. Crumbling brick, rusted door knobs, cracked walls, paint discoloration, and patterns of flaking exteriors took center stage. Why?

Because I see things differently. Not only do deserted buildings and decaying walls provide powerful settings for photography, but they are themselves, a form of art.

I see beauty in decay, stories and legend in the abandoned, rejuvenation in the old, and endurance for the decrepit. I was an urban explorer before I knew urban exploration, or urbex, existed. I love to document the dilapidated and decrepit. Take a look. See its beauty. See things differently.

Exterior wall with stained blue patterns, showing how the art of urban exploration makes you see things differently. (image © Eva Boynton)

With dark and emphatic strokes, Nature paints eyebrows around window eyes.
© Eva Boynton

Art Lessons

Found among the debris of disregarded buildings is the great professor of color theory. The mix of colors, patterns, and shapes that form from wear and tear provide art lessons of the natural kind. They inform the palette of painters and delight the eye of those who appreciate art.

A wall's paint discolored by urban decay, showing how urban exploration can make you see things differently. (image © Eva Boynton)

The dynamic palette of urban decay
© Eva Boynton

Urban exploration develops an eye for the aesthetics of decay. Through the camera lens, photographers learn to frame exquisite landscapes of colors, textures, and patterns. They snap their pictures and document the eroding walls and deteriorating doors.

An eroding wall exposing brick and blues, pinks and yellows, demonstrating how urban exploration makes you see things differently. (image © Eva Boynton).

Flaking paint and exposed brick create the color tones in this wallscape.
© Eva Boynton

For the photographer, the lessons in art go beyond color studies to recognizing a remarkable backdrop. They teach skills in perspective—when to go in close on the details and when to pull back to think about the entire composition.

A portrait of a woman standing in front of a decaying wall, showing how the art of urban exploration makes you see things differently. (image © Eva Boynton).

An effective juxtaposition—decaying walls and a young woman looking forward to a long life
© Eva Boynton

Nature’s Paintbrush

Nature paints with living colors of moss, ivy, and oxidation. Environmental factors take effect over time, exposing the raw layers of what lies beneath. Humidity causes discoloration and stained patterns, while rain flakes the walls. These are the unlikely mediums of nature’s paintbrush that create the aesthetics relished by urban and rural explorers alike.

Green moss growing on a Mayan wall in Quintana Roo, Mexico, is an artwork of decay that makes you see things differently. (image © Eva Boynton)

Coming in close on a wall in the Mayan jungle of Quintana Roo, Mexico,
reveals a mix of moss and paint.
© Eva Boynton

Nature alters architecture, interacting with what humans have built. She animates a dormant surface, producing wonderfully erratic and random displays of color, texture and pattern. These spectacular shows of decay are of the moment and are the prize of urban and rural explorers.

A wall and door with dynamic colors, showing the effect of decay gives an opportunity to see things differently. (image © Eva Boynton).

Cracks and crackles of ocean indigo and rusty reds on this Mexican wall
frame a new door that is itself already starting to decay.
© Eva Boynton

Once Nature starts to take over, every moment counts. The process is a constant evolution, one in which change comes from both decomposition and the sprouting of new plant life. Standing in front of a scene of urban decay is like watching a live performance—a year, a month, or even a day later, the mutations create a new look.

A deserted hotel room in Europe with plants growing over the bed, illustrating how photographers engaged in urban exploration make you see things differently. (image © Christian Richter).

A deserted hotel room in Europe provides a bed for new growth.
© Christian Richter

Urban and rural exploration teaches how to see beauty in the most unlikely of subjects. Decaying walls and buildings and beds, however, are more than an artistic opportunity or nature’s playground. They also tell powerful stories.

Stories in the Abandoned

Explorers of all types need imagination and courage for their journeys. Urban exploration is no different. Although rotten floors and unstable ceilings can be a challenging setting, abandoned buildings produce unique photographic stories.

Students once studied in these very desks. Photographers Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre safeguard the memory with a camera.

A deserted classroom in Europe, captured by a photographer doing urban exploration, makes you see things differently. (image © Christian Richter).

What do you think happened on the day this classroom was abandoned?
© Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre

Photos of Detroit’s deserted theaters and dust-caked hotels preserve a story of time passing—a story of people coming and going, of an empire rising and fading away.

An abandoned room of a hotel apartment in Detroit, captured by a photographer engaged in urban exploration who wants you to see things differently. (image © Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre)

The Lee Plaza hotel, completed in Detroit in 1929, was a
production of the “construction frenzy” era.
©Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre

Like the rings of a tree, you can count the layers of dust or paint to imagine the history that the walls have witnessed over the years. Perhaps a family celebrated their success here by checking into this 1920s luxury suite. Maybe they invited a pianist to serenade them as they ate a decadent meal. Were they part of the social segregation that caused the abandonment of many buildings in the city?

Abandoned buildings are a mausoleum of sorts, where stories of the past are buried. When photographs from urban explorers preserve these relics, they turn the rotting past into a monument of the present.

An abandoned library in Europe, captured by a photographer engaged in urban exploration who wants you to see things differently. (image © Christian Richter)

What stories can this European library tell?
Who was the last person to sit in the green chair?
© Christian Richter

The ruins become the roots of a present-day place, the survivors, heritage sites in their own right. They evoke eerie, nostalgic emotions, and they house awe-inspiring stories of heroic destruction.

Oh, I See Decay Differently

Rust may be a sign of disuse and chipped paint a sign of failure to “keep up appearances,” but the art of decay revealed in my urban and rural exploration makes me see things differently. With fresh and creative eyes, I see beauty and inspiration in the old, lost, disregarded, and abandoned. What do you see?

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Thank you Christian Richter and Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre for sharing your beautiful photography.

Eva Boynton 6 Comments

The World's Art & Design/Worldwide Sites

Jan

American Cultural Heritage: Public Libraries

by Meredith Mullins on January 25, 2016

One-room green library in Allensworth, CA, one of the public libraries showing America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

Library built by ex-slaves, Allensworth, California
© Robert Dawson

The Art of Getting on the Same Page

Shhh. No talking. Let the books and walls and shelves speak for themselves. If you’re quiet, you can hear the sound of knowledge. The call to adventure. The whisper of imagination.

It all happens at public libraries—a part of American cultural heritage that has opened so many doors, providing free access to information and the freedom to learn.

“It is a space ship that will take you to the farthest reaches of the universe, a time machine that will take you to the far past and the far future, a teacher that knows more than any human being, a friend that will amuse you and console you … and most of all, a gateway to a better and happier and more useful life.” —Isaac Asimov

An intergalactic tribute to books; The Main Library, Duluth, Minnesota. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

An intergalactic tribute to books at The Main Library, Duluth, Minnesota
© Robert Dawson

Open Doors

We all have memories of public libraries. Being read to during story hour as our littlest self. Checking out our first book as a child, proudly using our official library card, which seemed to give us instant status and new swagger to our step.

Seeking a cool spot on a hot summer afternoon or warmth during a winter snowstorm. Listening for the seductive sound of the approaching bookmobile. Wondering if we could ever, in our life, read all that the library had to offer.

A trailer library in Death Valley National Park, California, one of the public libraries of America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

A remote, shaded library in Death Valley National Park, California—the hottest place on earth
© Robert Dawson

Boundless Opportunity

Libraries are not just a democratic haven for reading. They are also community centers, temporary shelter for the homeless, cathedral-ceiling reading rooms and research hubs, tables full of accessible computers, literacy centers, and a place for people to learn and neighbors to meet.

Reading Room at the Main Library, Philadelphia, PA, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The Reading Room at the Main Library in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
© Robert Dawson

They exist in cities of millions and in a town of one person (Rudy’s library in Monowi, Nebraska.). They are one-room shacks in the middle of nowhere, brightly colored storefronts in shopping malls, and multiple layers of steel and glass in modern urban centers.

They are transformed from banks, hospitals, jails, churches, railroad stations, fish markets, gas stations, and nightclubs

The Ralph W. Yarborough branch library, Austin, TX, in an old theater, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

Yarborough Branch Library in Austin, Texas is housed in an old theater.
© Robert Dawson

Inspiration for Imagination

They tell stories—from a history of George Washington’s overdue books checked out from The New York Society Library (returned 221 years later . . . not by George) to the vision of Kentucky librarians on horseback carrying books in saddlebags to rural areas.

They provide fuel for imagination and innovation, as a cast of dedicated founders, patrons, and librarians parade through history and as the libraries of today expand their collections to music, films, seeds, and tools.

First Carnegie Library, Braddock, PA, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The first Carnegie Library in Braddock, Pennsylvania
© Robert Dawson

A Creative Vision of Our Heritage

Where did I learn so much about America’s public libraries?

From photographer Robert Dawson, who brings public libraries to life in his book The Public Library: A Photographic Essay. He found their past and their present in his 18-year journey across America, learning their secrets and capturing their essence.

Interior, Evansville, IN, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The interior of the library in Evansville, Indiana
© Robert Dawson

He photographed hundreds of the 17,000 libraries in the U.S., traveling to 48 states. His odyssey confirmed his belief that libraries were symbols of democracy, and also were “great equalizers, tools of social justice to lift the poor and to provide equal opportunity.”

He clarifies his focus as “not just a study of architecture. It’s a look at the uses of libraries and their places in society—portraits of communities through the lens of the library. The public library in each of the places we visited spoke volumes about who we are as a people.”

Small library in Roscoe, SD, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The library in Roscoe, South Dakota, was built in 1932 by a group of civic-minded women.
It was one of the smallest public libraries in the nation.
© Robert Dawson

Through Robert’s photographs and thoughtful text, as well as the essays that are included in the book (including words from Barbara Kingsolver, Anne Lamott, Isaac Asimov, Amy Tan, Ann Patchett, and Bill Moyers), I came away with a renewed appreciation for this enriching part of our cultural heritage.

Yellow Queens Library Bookmobile, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

After Hurricane Sandy, the Queens Library Bookmobile was on the move (Rockaway, New York).
© Robert Dawson

I would especially like to see a sequel featuring the dedicated librarians. Anne Lamott describes these central characters as trail guides, capable of teasing out enough information about what someone is after to lead him or her on the path of connections.

Looking to the Future

I also came away with a commitment to making sure libraries don’t disappear. Robert saw much of this danger in his travels.

“I have always thought of public libraries as beacons of hope, and it saddened me each time I came upon a library that had been destroyed, either through natural disaster, neglect, or local economic collapse.”

Smallest library, now closed, Hartland Four Corners, VT, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The smallest library in the U.S. (in Hartland Four Corners, Vermont) is now closed.
© Robert Dawson

The reality is sad. Libraries are suffering from budget cuts every day, and many are closing. As librarian Dorothy Lazard says in her essay in the book, “libraries are the last outpost of community space.”

Although the lessons (and memories) were many for me in exploring the vastness of the public library system, the importance of public libraries in today’s society remains clear. My true Oh, I see moment was best summarized by T.S Eliot.

“The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man.”

We should not let this valuable part of our cultural heritage die.

Here is more information about The Public Library: A Photographic Essay and Robert Dawson’s other photographic projects. To learn more about the authors who contributed to this book, see websites for Isaac Asimov, Barbara Kingsolver, Anne Lamotte, Bill Moyers, and Amy Tan

The Library of Congress has acquired all of Dawson’s public library photographs as a historic record.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Meredith Mullins 4 Comments

Cultural Heritage & Traditions/The World's Photography/USA

Jan

Coffee Culture: Slow Down and Focus

by Joyce McGreevy on January 18, 2016

Cameras on display at the Camera Museum, part of London's coffee culture and a place to slow down and see things differently. (Image © Camera Museum)

Café, what café? Let’s see what develops.
© Camera Museum

To See the World, See Things Differently

There was only one logical conclusion: the café had been stolen by elves.

Sightseeing can mean seeing things differently–only now I couldn’t see the site at all. In search of a rumored gem of café culture, I paced the short stretch of London footpath. On that bitter cold morning in Bloomsbury, outdoor tables and chairs were sensibly tucked away. So I checked the street address again and again. But where the café was supposed to be, I saw only a shop front, its window chockablock with camera gear.

Then again, the café’s name had a photography reference, so it had to be right there. Yet when I glanced inside, there was only a small, softly lit shop. It barely looked big enough to contain its glass counter, across which two elderly men affably debated the merits of tripods.

Obviously, there was no room for a café.

Obviously.

Customers checking out photography gear at the Camera Museum, part of London’s coffee culture and a place to slow down and see things differently. (Image © Camera Museum)

The Case of the Vanishing Café

Perhaps the café was like Brigadoon, the fictional Scottish village fated to reappear only one day every 100 years. Perhaps it was cousin to the London pub that mysteriously disappears in the madcap detective novel The Victoria Vanishes: A Peculiar Crimes Unit Mystery, by Christopher Fowler.

Or perhaps I just needed to slow down and focus.

Back I went to the camera shop. This time, instead of tentatively glancing through the door, I walked right in. There were new and vintage cameras, elephantine lenses, flashes, and battery grips arrayed in display cases everywhere. Stacked boxes filled the gaps between shelves and ceiling.

No coffee culture here.

From Scattered Photons to Single Focus

Just as I was about to leave, I looked up and saw a sign that said “Dessert.” (Some details naturally rivet my attention.) As a customer stepped away from the counter, another sign, “Coffee Shop,” was revealed.

Then I looked to the left, around a display case, and down a short hallway half in shadow. There it was, aptly underexposed—the Camera Café. To find it, you had to be fully inside the building. You had to observe your surroundings.

Oh, I see: As a photographer might say, I needed to adjust my focus. First, slow down that snap-happy shutter speed. Then, expand the depth of field and explore the entire scene.

A vintage camera, water glass, and coffee cup, illustrating how savoring the moment can help people see things differently. (Image © pia–ch/iStock)

That was years ago. Today the café, renamed the Camera Museum, is so heavily signposted that no passerby could miss it. But at the time, as befuddlement turned to “Eureka!” it held a mythic quality.

Call it a Narnia moment, because it felt like finding a world behind the wardrobe.

Ever since, I’ve reveled in witnessing the hidden, which, admittedly, often includes delayed discoveries of the obvious.

The street view of the Camera Museum, a place that invites passersby to slow down, see things differently, and enjoy London’s coffee culture. (Image © Camera Museum)

To Look or to See?

Sometimes the most delightful details are hidden in plain sight.

Recently, while waiting my turn in a coffee house in Ann Arbor, Michigan, I decided to take in the details of the setting rather than reflexively stare at my cell phone. That’s when I saw it—the fairy door in the baseboard. It stood just a few inches high, but it had a big place at Sweetwaters Coffee & Tea.

A miniature fairy door set into the baseboard of the Sweetwater Café in Ann Arbor, Michigan, illustrating a beloved element of the coffee culture that invites people to slow down and see things differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Children’s book author Jonathan B. Wright (who also happens to teach design) created the fairy door, now a beloved element of local coffee culture. The one I spied is just the second of several such doors that mysteriously appeared in Ann Arbor, beginning in 1993.

What about the first fairy door? As coincidence would have it, that one appeared in the Wrights’ own home.

Soon, fairy doors and windows turned up all around town. Locals and visitors began to see the world differently.

Inspired by this stumbled-upon whimsy, I decided to track down other fairy dwellings. My favorite was the fairy house at the Ann Arbor public library.

Fairy houses hidden within books at the public library in Ann Arbor, Michigan, inviting people to see things differently in miniature. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

When Details Become Doorways

So you might say it was the fairies who led me to yet another serendipity.

The library happened to be hosting a sale of vintage children’s books. There, for the grand sum of two dollars, I discovered a pristine copy of a book I had cherished as a child, The Grandma Moses Storybook for Boys and Girls, published in 1961.

1969 U.S. postage stamp (6 cents) honoring the art of Grandma Moses, illustrating how looking carefully into something as tiny as a stamp can help people see things differently. (Image by Bureau of Engraving and Printing [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)

You can even see the world in a postage stamp!

Like many another sentimental object, it had fallen down time’s rabbit hole.

Now here it was. With the slight vanilla scent of each familiar page, a world of memories opened up and invited me back in.

See what happens when you slow down and focus?

Savoring the local coffee culture or simply pausing to see things differently can give you a deeper sense of place. It might take you to a half-hidden café in London or a fairy house in the Midwest. It might even take you all the way back to your happy childhood.

To stay up on what’s new with the fairies of Ann Arbor, visit the Urban Fairies Operations (UFO), a site maintained by Jonathan B. Wright. Find his books and a tour map to the fairy doors here.

Grandma Moses stamp credit: by Bureau of Engraving and Printing [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons