Tree Sprung from Asphalt.

Tree Sprung from Asphalt.

I Really Just Liked the Ivy.

Behind the Medford Municipal Garage.

That Tree Wants So Badly to Be that Telephone Poll.

That Tree Wants that Telephone Pole Something Fierce.

A Little Slice of Green.

A Little Slice of Green.

This post probably reads as a bit of a tribute to Nature Walk Boston. That's a pretty correct assumption, considering the author of Nature Walk and I talked about these photos Monday evening.


'It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.'

1984 by S.F.

Shepard Fairy is one of my favorite artists, hands down. Obey Giant is one the most interesting, widespread street art projects that has come to fruition. It slowly exploded to include a magazine, really expensive clothes, movie posters and a very profitable design company. I am enamored by Fairy's use of propaganda-like imagery to create a body of work that comments on popular culture, government control, big brother, war, money and just about everything else in the modern, contemporary world. Heavy, bold design? Tri-color silk screens? Appropriating Soviet Union communist propaganda? Punk rock? Hip Hop? Squish them all together? That's genius.

I also love it's ever-present, omnipotent original Andre the Giant logo and strange ambiguity of the images that have been created under the Giant campaign.

It's only appropriate that he did the redesign of 1984 by George Orwell, as well as the one for Animal Farm. Maybe this time, since it's got a really well-designed cover by one of my favorite working artists, I'll actually read them. Read the post about redesigning book covers for classics at The Penguin Blog, read the whole story of Obey Giant in Supply & Demand and get excited for E Pluribus Venom which gets released at the end of July.


More of The Steel

High House

The High House.

During World War II, large guns for battleships were produced at Bethlehem Steel and then heat treated in this building. They would stand the guns end on end and either heat them up and quench them with water or chemically treat them. The building is so strange to look at, given it's scale and mass. Driving across the bridge behind it, you can damn near see in the windows.

Eventually, the parking lot for the casino and a hotel will sit where I was standing to take this photo.

On the right is the Iron Ore Bridge and the faint skeletal structure of the casino it's self.


Boy of Blue Industries

I, when it comes to making photos, am of the camp of a photo is a photo is a photo no matter what camera it was taken with, captured with a digital censor or a film plane, or printed from a computer or in a dark room. A good, smart photograph, however it's made, is a good smart photograph, accidental or not. "Good" is a subjective word, which I'll tackle at a later day.

Wayne Martin Belger's work falls far from that idea. Belger constructs gorgeous pinhole cameras with the intent of capturing a specific subject with each camera. They are alter-like, a tribute to each of the subject he plans to photograph with the camera. I am most awed and intrigued by the HIV, Heart, and Altar cameras.


Blast Furnace Profile

Blast Furnace Profile

Bethlehem Steel. It's better and more informative in it's full version here.


Alvira, PA.

Bunker 1 Bunker 2

Munitions Bunkers 1 & 2, Alvira PA.

A few Sundays ago, my aunt, cousin and I took 44 to the ghost town of Alvira. We'd been sitting around, sipping Coke and chatting about the quiet deserted places in PA. My aunt brought up Alvira, a town mentioned in Pennsylvania Ghost Towns: Uncovering the Hidden Past. As it's about 20 minutes (give or take) from her house, the three of use headed out there.

Alvira, a curious place, sits inside PA State Game Lands 252. A sharp right off of 44 onto Mill Road takes you to a stop sign. Make a right and you find yourself bumping and heaving down a gently maintained road for about a quarter of a mile. We parked between a beat-up black Chevy truck and a grey Aerostar and listened to the car doors shut against a strange, wide quiet.

Founded in 1825 as a farming community, Alvira was a small town of about 400 people. In 1942, the U.S. Government took over about 8,500 acres of land in the area to house a TNT factory and storage facilities. The town was evacuated by eminent domain and the residents were promised that they would be able to buy back their land after WWII was over. Turns out, that was a lie. The government over-estimated the need for TNT and eventually the factory closed, long before the war ended. The land was divided up and sold to different owners; one for a golf course, the other for a prison. The factory it's self now sits behind the walls of the Allenwood Prison and houses minimum security prisoners.

Bunker 3 Bunker 4

Bunkers 3 & 4.

Two cemeteries, church and house foundations, many of the 149 storage bunkers and the grid of the town remains. The cemetaries are extremely well-maintained, considering their age and place. There were a few newer headstones; my cousin spotted one that was from 2000 or so.

The bunkers are igloo shaped, built to withstand an accidental blast. Of the four we came across, one was open and unlocked; the others were not only locked but welded shut. The open one, which I assume was number 4, is clearly used as a party spot. There were empty beer cans and shot gun shells scattered near the opening and the remnants of a fire inside. The walls were covered in graffiti of the "Cindy is a slut" and "John has a small dick" variety. As the walls are solid concrete and dome-shaped, everything echoed intensely. My footsteps against the dirty floor hung and vibrated in the air for 5-7 seconds after they were taken.

New Part of Washington Presbyterian Church Cemetary

New Part of the Washington Presbyterian Church Cemetery

We wondered around for about an hour and half. There were a few other people there but they disappeared as soon as they appeared. Mostly, it was just quiet with very little sounds from animals or the highway. We attempted to trek down to where the majority of the house foundations remain but the field was soaked and muddy. My aunt found (what we assume is) a groundhog skeleton; she took the skull and I took the vertebrae and pelvis bone.

Muddy with aching feet, we headed back to her house in silence, me making mental notes of photographs that I need to take along routes 15 and 44. At her house, she made meatloaf, while the race played on TV and the two of us talked about music, life, the internet, whatever came up. I left around 4.30 and stopped in Northumberland for hoagies at Amato's.