Flag.

I'd just finished talking with art gallery owners, artists, and random people in the Las Vegas Arts District. As I walk back to my car I take a detour, climb a cement embankment to a train overpass. As I crest the cement hill I find myself in a drainage ditch filled with all manner of remnants from society.

Some are likely from a person living here. Jacket, pillow, satchel, trash bag hanging from the fence, foam pad. Others seem to have been carried or dropped here by the hands of fate. Sears catalogues, wrappers, cans, paper. I look up the wash, and see a path laid out in front of me, cut through thick weeds glowing gold with the setting sun.

On my right the weeds grow thicker, obscuring any view of the earth beneath, and as I make my trek forward, I hear light rustling from hidden creatures. Lizards, mice, rats, I do not know.

To my left I see a steep embankment of dark lava rocks with train tracks on top.

I stay to my path, listening to the breeze as it sighs over the tracks, across the tops of the weeds, and through the chain link fence. I come across a section of downed telephone pole, bathed in sunlight, and I walk along the top of it. The wood cracks and splinters beneath my boots. At the end I hop off and look to my left. Almost hidden beneath the weeds are red and white stripes.

Crouching down, I peer into the bush and find a sun faded American Flag. Taking care not to disturb anything, as is my practice, I raise my camera and take a shot of the flag hiding in shadow. Once I have this shot I pause before walking on. Many great photographers have told me that patience, along with the eye to spot a subject, are the most important skills a photographer can use. As I look around, I take notice of the direction of light.

Sunlight is coming through a chain link fence, casting golden patches of light throughout the wash. In a few minutes, a patch of sunlight will dance across and highlight the hidden flag. As I wait, I notice that directly across from me is another American flag, flapping in the intermittent breeze. I frame it along with the weeds in front of me and add to my collection of photos for the day.

After I finish this shot, I notice that a patch of sunlight is quickly approaching my flag. I frame a few photographs with the Las Vegas skyline behind it. As I shoot I notice a faint light in the distance. At first I believe it's the sun reflecting off of the Trump tower. It gets closer and I realize that it's not a reflection, but the headlight from an approaching train. My heart begins to race.

I'll only have a few moments to get a shot with the flag and the engine of the train up close. I get one with the train coming towards me and shift my position to get it as it's passing. As I dive back into the viewfinder I find a third flag, painted boldly on the side of the oncoming train. My breaths come in short almost panicked bursts as the train passes. I snap an image with both my flag and the painted flag in it.

Once it passes I feel comfortable leaving my flag where I found it. I remain for a while in this place somehow cut off from the stress of life and enjoy the breeze and the day as it winds down to darkness.

I present "Flag." a series made in the span of a sunset.

If ever I get the chance to display this series, I think I'd like the layout to be something like this:

Above.

"Above." is a series of photos taken to inspire people to explore their surroundings. Also included are aerial views of the locations. Not well received by initial audiences.

Winter Break: Urban Shooting

Deanna and I drove until we found interesting things. Then we took photos. Enjoy what I came up with!

Victorville

I know I promised I'd have these up earlier, but was anyone really waiting eagerly at their computers? If you were, I'll buy you ice cream. Now onto the photos.

Steven and I drove a few dozen miles out of our way as we headed home this weekend. When we arrived, the sun was hanging low in the sky. It seemed to hold there just long enough for me to find and save these. An entire suburban neighborhood, abandoned. The world has never felt as surreal as it did here. If I were alone I imagine that I'd have gotten lost in thought and forgotten to take photos. Luckily, Steven snapped away and brought me out of it.

The pavement, cracked and crumbling, winds its way through what seems like hundreds of homes. Trees overgrown, now dead, lay on top of some of the buildings. Gently resting on the smashed walls and caved roofs. Dust lifts up behind my footsteps as I walk where green grass once grew. Hundreds of homes, hundreds of lives. This is what it must feel like to be the last man alive.

Teaser for Tomorrow

That's right. This is a teaser blog for tomorrow's entry. I went to California this weekend. And at the end, during our drive home, we stopped at an abandoned suburban neighborhood in Victorville California. An entire neaghborgood abandoned, vacant, ruined. Remnants.

Old Habits...

Old habits never really die. They just sit around and collect dust like so many forgotten keepsakes. And you guys know my affinity for dusty things. So here is the beginning of a revival of my Behind Doors series.

Behind Doors: Into the Darkness

Instead of tantalizing glimpses of what may or may not be a beautiful adventure. This is an exploration of the adventure itself. You may remember the Virginia Street Gym Tunnels photo. Well, my friends, here's the interior. Good job not exploring it yourself.

Quote

Urban exploration in a nutshell:

"All is silent in the halls of the dead." Eddie heard himself in a falling, fainting voice. "All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead. Behold the stairways which stand in darkness; behold the rooms of ruin. These are the halls of the dead where spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one."
-The Waste Lands (Dark Tower III)

Nevada Desert Towns

Nevada is chiefly known for what I document on a regular basis: The two main centers of gambling in the United States. But an even deeper passion of mine lies in the Nevada desert, on the highways between Reno and Las Vegas. Towns, some living and some figments of the past, pepper the landscape. These towns are what used to be the life blood of this great state. The mining towns that heaved up thousands of tons of earth to establish the silver state. The mining towns where tumbleweed bounces through the streets. Where some of the grandest buildings of their time still stand. In the spaces between the active hands of Nevada is the heart of the state.

Recently I visited the old ghost town of Rhyolite, and the dying town of Goldfield. In the posts below are my short chronicles of those towns.

Desert Towns, Nevada.

Rhyolite

The desert slowly reclaims Rhyolite. The town once supported a thriving community and now it sits alone in the desert. The Nevada Historical society take care of in however it can. The stone buildings are all that remain. Being inside them is like walking through an archaeological dig site. Columns lie on their sides, foundations are cracked, bricks are strewn, few clues remain. But every so often as I walked inside a building I would get a flash of what once was.

The bank, clean save for a fine dust on the floor has people milling about inside. It's dark and cool inside. A woman walks with her husband to the teller. The owner of the bank sits in his office above the main floor looking down with pride. And suddenly I'm back in the glaring heat. The walls white with time and sunlight. The ground is covered with dirt, brick, stone slabs and desert plants.

Rhyolite, Nevada.

Goldfield

A handful of businesses remain open on the main road through town. Houses further out from the road are in various states of decay. Some have for sale signs that optimistically list a phone number. Others sit vacant, open, and empty. Shops are closed. The town is listed as a ghost town in most modern atlases. Those residents who remain stare blankly as tourists gawk and pose in front of what used to be a thriving community. The Goldfield Hotel, once the largest in the West, sits boarded up. The schoolhouse rots slowly as repair efforts are made in vain.

Further out, where no tourist dare venture, are the mines. A range of hundreds of mounds. Each one a mine. Each one fenced off with barbed wire. The earth in this area is stained yellow and red by what was pulled up from below.

The town of Goldfield, Nevada.

All That Glitters

Last night my dear friend Alex and I explored much like we would normally. We found a place. We walked around and for reasons unknown to us, but perhaps to someone else, our way was not obstructed by gate, lock or door. We found ourselves in the center of a forgotten mystery. And in the hours that passed we slowly pieced together what we had found. Maps of Arizona, shelves of chemicals, kilns of varying sizes, rocks, books, a bed, generators, antique furniture. Words to describe our treasure are as follows, given to me to post by that friend Alex. He sent this to me in the early hours of the next morning for all of you to read:

"When you wander the streets in Las Vegas, there are certain things you just don't expect to find, but you often do. You don't expect the condom lying at your feet near a busy intersection. You don't expect buildings from your childhood in the middle of the city to be randomly demolished. You don't expect the sweet lady who gives you 15 dollars when you really need the money for food. And you just don't expect the phrase "all that glitters is gold" to somehow become slightly more relevant to your own life.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is: wander the streets of the Las Vegas valley a bit more. Every once in a while something interesting happens. Like stumbling upon an abandoned gold smelting operation.

I sure as hell wasn't expecting what seemed like a cement mixing facility, and then a pottery facility, and then a furniture restoration operation, and then… Fuck it, I didn't expect any of it. Gold, directions on do-it-yourself gold extraction, enough chemicals to kill every horse in a medieval army… I'm sure if you tried hard enough, you could re-invent Greek fire in this place.

What made me happiest was the simpler aspects of things: an unremarkable man's photo album (I mean no offense) and a random mining and smelting operation that was once going on right in the middle of our wonderful city (*cough*)… And not super-industrial, either!

The mood was set by several surprising things being unlocked, and the occasion was almost ritualistically sealed sometime around moonrise.

And I strangely find myself wondering after all this: I wonder if there is gold on the moon….

Oh, and remember kids: all that glitters is gold! Or something that could make it, anyways!"

And with those words, photographs.