Showing posts with label ecology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ecology. Show all posts

28 November 2011

As Nature Allows

   



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I.       Place name: from the ancient Persian, home of fires. The Zoratsrian plume,
          the eruptive arcs of conflagrant fountains, the flame having burned for centuries,
          if not millenia, if not from the beginning of time. For an eternity.

          An eternity having ended soon enough, with its source siphoned out. Drawn off
          'to light, to lubricate, and paint all the world.' The blaze dwindling, dissipated,
          the Brahmins abandoning the temple. The temple then renovated, and left to the
          tourists, for whom the flame had to be piped back in, artificially. A domestic import,
          a diverted diversion, viewable each day between the hours of 9 and 6.

II.       While on the horizon the ever thickening, man-made forest burns — brighter and
           monumentally, daily darkening the sky.

III.      The sky darkened. Dark: the color (as such) of that (more or less) which is
           (so to speak) not there. That not spoken of, left unquantified. Reification in reverse.
           The world now fully lit and lubed and painted. Permeated and suffused at every level.
           The subtext  ungirding all narratives, the presence that can only be inferred. Energy:
           an agent of acceleration and expansion. Nothing, essentially, being the biggest part of
           everything — how the totality operates, and also how it ends. The essence unknown and
           unknowable, unseen and unseeable. Its presence only inferred, the light from distant bodies
           bending as it passes through.


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images: From "Oil Wells at Baku, Close View,"commonly
attributed to Auguste and Louis Lumière, c. 1898  { # }


20 February 2011

Archeologies of the Present












An interesting piece from the archives of Afterall about the Center for Land Use Interpretation. Located on the perimeter of Los Angeles with satellite outposts scattered across the Western U.S., The CLUI is an organization that is, according to its website, "dedicated to the increase and diffusion of information about how the nation’s lands are apportioned, utilized, and perceived." As the Afterall article explains:

Over the years the Center has established outposts for the purposes of research and exhibition in Wendover, Utah and Troy, New York, with a Desert Research Station (DRS) located in California's Mojave Desert. Most ambitiously, the Center has established the Land Use Database, which occupies the aforementioned file cabinets but finds its truest incarnation on the Center's labyrinthine website. The Land Use Database is an ever-growing index of sites organised by region (limited to the United States) and according to nine land-use categories: transportation; water; culture; industry; mining; waste; military; nuclear/radioactive; and the somewhat ambiguous 'research and development'.




Past exhibits at the organization's Los Angeles space have included such topics as "The Trans-Alaska Pipeline: A CLUI Photoscape Presentation," "Immersed Remains: Towns Submerged in America," "Urban Crude: The Oil Fields of the Los Angeles Basin," and "The Best Dead Mall in America: A Photographic Documentation and Indefinite Installation."

The Center also has a nationwide network of affiliates and "independent interpreters and researchers" who offer tours of various locations throughout the country. Its Land Use Database is in the form of an interactive map; a state-by-state guide to sites of interest -- from Bombay Beach of California's Salton Sea, to the Bonneville Salt Flats Raceway, to the Georgia Guidestones. Broken down by category (e.g. industrial, abandoned site, military, etc.), many of the listings in the Western half of the country include the vast expanses that Mike Davis wrote about extensively in Dead Cities, the parts of the American landspace that have been cordoned off, scarred, and in many cases poisoned by nation's petroleum industry or by military testing during the Cold War arms race. Or, as the blurb for the Center's thematic "Isolates Program" has it:

Some places are intentionally cut-off from the continuum of the landscape, becoming discrete, inward looking worlds in themselves. Radioactive sites, for example, have to be disconnected from their surroundings for obvious reasons, and must remain that way for millennia. Military training areas too can function as self-contained cities or stylized enemy nations. This thematic program area examines the sites, landforms, and architectures of such isolate zones.

For instance, there's a listing for the Utah desert film location for the 1956 movie The Conquerer. Dramatizing the life of Ghengis Khan and shot downwind from a Nevada nuclear test site, much of the film's cast and crew would develop and die from cancer in the decades that followed -- including the film's leading star, the Cold War Hollywood icon John Wayne.









The Center's associates in various locations conduct research and offer tours of sites of interest in their own native regions; such as bus tours of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, complete with visits to the abandoned military proving grounds, oil fields, and Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty. As the Afterall piece has it, the Center's work is in some ways conceptually indebted to the some of Smithson's ideas:

In exploring overlooked peripheries such as the 'alien' landscape of Utah or Area 51 in Nevada - often at the guarded border of the military-industrial complex that calls such remote elsewheres home - the Center is dedicated to exploring the circumference. Despite pluralistic claims of 'objectivity', the organisation is hardly ambivalent in the sites it chooses for studies and public tours. The Center's tours provide a frame, however ephemeral, for the experience of these sites, putting humans in contact with the inhuman scale of ambition and the folly of progress.

Back in 2000, the Center inaugurated its new exhibition space with "Formations of Erasure: Earthworks and Entropy," a show that chronicled the then-current status of famous land art pieces across the United States...






Robert Smithson's Partially Buried Woodshed
at Kent State University, c. 1970 and 2000.


As with any database, there's room for growth. For instance, I'm surprised to see no one's added a tour or entry for Stiltsville in the Biscayne Bay in Miami.

In the way that urb-exers climbing down through drains or tunnels to probe the underlying (and often obsolete) physical substrata of cities, the Center's exploration and cataloguing of structural periphera engages a complex unter-narrative of expansiontist, modern America. At the same time, it also parallels the sort of ideas that ecologically-minded photographers like Richard Misrach and Edward Burtynsky, in the way that it bears witness to the processes and side-effects of industrial and military development, the way in which technology of human needs and fears transform the landscape. At the same time, I'm reminded of this item via BLDG BLOG, in which the organization Atlas Obscura hosted a tour of the "Geoglyphs of Nowhere." Which translates, it seems, into a psychogeographic exploration of the stillborn subdivisions in the desert outside of Los Angeles; where the plotted roadways were laid many years ago, while the houses were never built.

18 January 2011

Scarification




Expectoration, December 2005, Darrow, LA (detail)



Untitled, June 2010, Gulf of Mexico (detail)



Nightmare, Carville, LA, 2010



Gangrene, Luling, LA, 2010


By way of the latest photo gallery at The Morning News, above is some work by eco-minded photographer J. Henry Fair, from his recent series Industrial Scars. Fair's been doing a great deal of work on this theme, much of which has been collected and is about to published in book form, which is to be published sometime this month.

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And once again, because critical discussion on this topic seems to being going full pitch these days, over at Guernica contributor John Patrick Leary weighs in on the recent trend of "Detroitsploitation":

Ruin photography, in particular, has been criticized for its 'pornographic' sensationalism, and my bookseller friend won't sell much of it for that reason. And others roll their eyes at all the positive attention heaped on the young, mostly white 'creatives,' which glosses over the city's deep structural problems and the diversity of ideas to help fix them. So much ruin photography and ruin film aestheticizes poverty without inquiring of its origins, dramatizes spaces but never seeks out the people that inhabit and transform them, and romanticizes isolated acts of resistance without acknowledging the massive political and social forces aligned against the real transformation, and not just stubborn survival, of the city. And to see oneself portrayed in this way, as a curiosity to be lamented or studied, is jarring for any Detroiter, who is of course also an American, with all the sense of self-confidence and native-born privilege that we’re taught to associate with the United States.

Quite a long and thorough piece -- comprehensive, intelligent, and astute. Full article here.

About the only question I have from reading the thing is...someone's making a Red Dawn 2?

(And no, I haven't been researching this topic lately. Just seems like it keeps popping up in a number of places.)

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