The Sky is Falling

Earlier this week, I made a somewhat impromptu trip to the LA area to visit family. This provided the opportunity to explore the metro area with my Great Uncle Dan on a photography expedition. We paid a visit to some old haunts including the industrial area around Wilimington near Long Beach: certainly not the touristy parts of LA. I feel a lot of gratitude for being able to see these areas of the city with Dan, who’s lived in the area for more than 50 years. Long enough to see the metro completely swallow the basin.

The industrial areas we explored seemed bleaker than they felt in the past for some reason. Perhaps that is a reflection of the place the country is in today. Our failures to provide affordable housing and address climate change being a few of them. The writing on a dumpster beneath a refinery (?) seemed especially poignant: “the sky is falling.” Not sure there is much arguing with Chicken Little today.

Two spray painted dumpsters sit in front of train tracks and a industrial refinery-like facility.
Wilmington, CA. July 5, 2022.

A white sports car sits in front of a wall made of corrugated metal. A sign made of rebar attached to the wall reads, "Welding Service."
Wilmington, CA. July 5, 2022.
Two rusted barrels and a concrete block sit in front of a fence made of metal sheets, corrugated metal, and chainlink fence.
Wilmington, CA. July 5, 2022.

A wood power pole with spray paint that reads "USA." Trash including old furniture and sheets of plastic lie near the bottom of the pole.
Wilmington, CA. July 5, 2022.
View of the concrete walls of an underpass from below. Wave symbols line the concrete wall of the roadway. Trees dot the ground between the underpass and the sidewalk below.
Wilmington, CA. July 5, 2022.

Found. Stay lost.

Omaha, NE. 2020-21

2020-21. A year of strange juxtapositions, hypocrisy, and incongruities if there ever was one. The year I settled into a new job in a new place, which was supposed to bring stability. But—we all know the story. And yet—landing a year-around job in late 2019 turned out to be an amazing stroke of luck. I was able to hole up in my apartment and worked a stable job while everything went to shit.

And still. Not everything went to shit. 2020 was also the year I met Rachel, a wonderful soul that somehow made her way that same year from Oregon. Incongruities. Who could have guessed I’d meet someone in the same year it was terrifying seeing people?

Which leads into me talking about photography. Speaking of seeing people, you won’t see any people in these photos (except for me, seen at right). I suppose that makes sense in a year in which seeing people was generally kind of terrifying. There is definitely a lot of evidence of people, however, in these photos. Items left behind in alleys. Stately homes seen from vacant lots. Or maybe signs of humans to come in newly bulldozed farm fields. Signs of life, but definitely at a distance. I’m not sure if these photos mean anything except for that. Quiet observations of the evidence of human existence in a new city from a distance.

Also, hey. Are you vaccinated yet?

Self portrait of a man's reflection in a window. He is holding a small camera and a street is behind.
Omaha, NE. August 27, 2020.