More About Detroit Photography

For anyone seeking more photodocumentary information about Detroit this book may be of interest:

There is on page 49 a very interesting photo taken from a roof top showing perhaps 30 or 40 blocks of urban landscape where one can see large patches denuded of any buildings. No wonder that there have been proposals to clear large swathes of what was once a thriving city and encourage that the land be used for agriculture.

My favorite photoblog about Detroit is dETROITFUNK. Highly reccommended.
Byron

The Detroitification of Small Town America: Part 1

DETROITIFICATION: A work coined by the author especially for this thread.

Many photographers have been drawn to Detroit in recent years. One blogger who isn't shy about posting images of what has transpired in this once great American city has perhaps had second thoughts and has (hypocritically) used the term Detroit Porn. I've taken some pictures of the abandoned or burned out wrecks of residential and commercial structures that occupy much of this forlorn blight-ridden city, but probably won't do more because this vein has been fairly well mined by others, among them George Bower. George is a retired physician and inveterate photographer of the urban disaster that is Detroit; and I have been fortunate to be on his e-mail distribution list for about 3 years. As I went through my files to select some of his images for this post, I was struck by his fantastic eye for color and for graphic detail. On the other hand, I experienced an actual wave of nausea on being confronted by these images of what has happened to the city that I knew and for which I had so much affection 6o years ago--not such a long time in terms of urban history-- which, in itself, is a lesson about the vulnerability of our urban environments. Here is a sample of some of Georges images which effectively depict what I have chosen to call Detroitification. I suspect that Detroit is only the harbinger-- the first and best known of American cities where the decay and ruin is so wide-spread that it is beyond reclamation.

These images have been posted with the kind permission of the creator and  copyright holder George Bower. Please direct any questions about them to bannis4@centurtely.net.

Byron

*Thinking: Too Much of a Good Thing?

Please note that the the title of this entry is preceded by an *. From now on I am going to give fair warning by using an asterisk prior to the title when the posts consist of personal  musings which may not be of interest to many, if not most, of my readers. Proceed  with caution. Why am I getting up close and personal? No really good reason except that I feel a need to do so, and, well ...what the hell, it's my blog... I can do what I want.

One of the aspects of my the long car trips that I have taken in recent years that have been a major plus is the ample opportunity to do lots of thinking. Parenthetically, this raises the question of why it seems that I don't have time to do serious pondering during my day to day life at home; to which there is no answer.Some of the things I thought about were important to me, weighty, and pertinent to this blog; some are vexing and often understandable, at least for me; some are trivial and really beneath serious contemplation; and some, particularly those topics related to politics and social issues, are, as in the well-known quote from Macbeth "...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

My ambivalent feelings about thinking, perhaps the more appropriate word is rumination, came to mind today because of the difficulty I am having blogging about some of the complex topics I wrestled with during my trip and am still having difficulty giving form and substance to, especially in writing in a public space. All of this came to the fore this morning when I read a review of a recent Broadway revival of Tom Stoppard's play Arcadia, by Terry Teachout and encountered this: "it is an entrancingly clever whodunit for eggheads whose underlying purpose is to dramatize the central problem of modernity: How are we to live our lives if it turns out that they have no ultimate meaning?" Indeed!

If you, dear Reader, are at this moment scratching your head and uttering something like "what the hell is he going on about, it's just an insignificant travel blog" or words to that effect, I want you to know that I am not in the midst of some existential crisis. This is, I think, mostly an old man's pastime. At a certain age, many of us really begin to understand something we have always known about not really experienced: the realization that time is truly running out and that there is unfinished business to be contemplated and dealt with.

Probably few of you are old enough to remember the days when PBS was actually filled with good content, before the Yanni Concerts, or the dusting off yet another tired musical act from the '60s (don't you just get a tingly feeling when you watch video of some post middle aged dweebs at a Peter, Paul, and Mary Reunion Concert waving Bic lighters- cells phones these days, of course) or yet another documentary retelling of some aspect of America's horrible sordid past. Anyhow, back in those early days of public television, I chanced to see a performance of a Medieval Morality Play. The details elude me, but, if memory serves,
the main character was Everyman, the theme was redemption from sin and the elements, or was it the characters, were I believe Confession, Absolution, Penance, and Grace (Susann says that grace would not have been included because it's a Protestant thing). During my trip I attempted to remember the details of the play and, more important, the essence while contemplating my wish to make some amends. Frankly, revisiting the past, much less remaking it, is not easy. Whether or not doing so is rewarding remains to determined.

Theme Music for the Tour

Hila wanted to know the theme music for my recent trip out seeing America. Before starting I thought it would be Graceland, as in this YouTube video:


However as I approached the Mississippi Delta, I hoped that it would be something like this:


Or, better,when I arrived at the legendary crossroads, this:
.
Didn't happen. Now that I'm home I'll have to think of something. Stay tuned.
Byron

Japan II

I arrived home during the early morning hours on Monday after approximately a 16 hour marathon drive across the length of  Illinois-- and it is a very long State-- as well as portions of Missouri, Iowa and Wisconsin. I've been preoccupied with getting my life reordered since. One happy note is that I've discovered that I didn't damage or lose a single piece of photo gear, which is, I think, a first for trips like this one. I've already ordered a new pair of glasses to replace the ones I lost in Louisiana.

As you know, the news from Japan becomes more distressing every day. Charlie, Kaori and Hannah and our concerns about the uncertainty for those in Japan preoccupies us. Like the Japanese people themselves we can only wait and cope. We realize that our worries, while very legitimate to us, are minor compared to those whose live have been so tragically effected by the disaster.

We again want everyone who has expressed concern and extended wishes for the well being of  our family to know how grateful we are for your kindness and good will.
Byron

Japan

After posting the prior message I opened the NYTimes site just to get an early morning update and to see if there had been any further developments in Japan. As you may know the situation is in flux and there is mounting concern about 2 nuclear reactors. I haven't talked to Charlie directly-- the 15 hour time difference especially with me on the road makes it difficult-- but Susann has kept in daily contact and Charlie has been considerate about keeping us updated. One complicating factor is that baby Hannah (7 months old) was or still is in the hospital for several days with what turned out to be a viral disease. The concern that required hospitalization was high fever and dehydration. Discharge yesterday was anticipated but I don't know if it occurred.

Susann and I are very deeply moved by the many phone calls and e-mails received expressing concern for Charles and his family. I will try to learn more as the day progresses and update this blog when I do.
Byron

Homeward Bound

Yesterday I drove through Mississippi from Natchez to the outskirts of Memphis, first on the Natchez Trace-- which seemed like a low-rent version of The Blue Ridge Parkway-- and then on Highway 61, the so-called Blues Highway, through the Mississippi Delta. I found Mississippi (the State, not the River) to be boring, shabby, although it certainly didn't seem to reflect the mythical poverty I had expected. The really unpleasant surprise was that the people I encountered were, for the most part, sullen and vaguely disagreeable. The famed legendary Southern hospitality and courtesy, you ask ... probably gone with all of the other accouterments of a South. that may or may not have existed in the cultural consciousness of people of a certain age. Parenthetically, I don't recall speaking to anyone here in this region who spoke in anything other than completely unaccented standard American (TV) dialect. Well... one minor exception. When I told a housekeeper at a motel that I was checking out suggested that she have a good day, she replied "you'all take care now, Baby", which I thought was a nice touch (by the way, this occurred in Louisiana not Mississippi).

 Wending my way through the Cradle of the Confederacy, as Paul Simon put it in Graceland, was a big part of my plan for this trip. Excluding the unusually charming and interesting little town of Port Gibson, MS there was very little of note to photograph yesterday. I've decided, therefore, to make a dash for home. No more secondary highways and country roads-- it's Interstate all the way for here on. Once again, some song lyrics come to mind:

"If that train runs right, I'll be home by Saturday 900 miles from my home... and I hate to hear that lonesome whistle blow." 

Well, actually  it's a Toyota minivan, not a train, and closer to 500 miles, and it will be Sunday night... and train whistles, lonesome or otherwise, are just fine by me; but, what the hell, we have to make allowances for Art's sake.

I intend to work hard at making blog entries (ie, deliver on the promises I've been made in the candor department) once I get settled at home. I hope that you'll come back.
Byron