I have been flickering through photos of abandoned buildings/homes for a while, photographers like
Bryan Schutmaat or
Marchand and Meffre's photos of Detroit. There is something fascinating about ghost towns, about looking into peoples homes, and something even more fascinating looking at ruins, something touched, and then untouched.
What remains? What takes over the space?
It lives on, lives its own life, when everyone else has forgotten about it.
I think that just the presence of the abandoned creates very special state of mind. An atmosphere of void or chaos or just stillness.
A place always has memory. Sometimes its easy to read (or not) but the case of finding the poetry is also the case of finding the memory. To be able to read it (the memory, mystery and actions at a place) and to reread it or reinforce it, to create a new memory.
Memory can also be about associations, how we relate to our world. So different people would have diferent associations. Although architects often talk about "the soul" of a place, which then would be somehow at least semi-separated from our own associations.
Places definitely have an identity of its own, in my opinion (or lack of identity) independent of peoples associations. The sublime has memory.
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| From 'Grays the Mountain Sends' by Bryan Schutmaat |
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| Ghost town Keelung, Taiwan by unknown photographer |
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