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Years and years ago, I took a photo set of the Santa Cruz boardwalk and all of its beautifully painted buildings and rides, in the middle of January when it was completely and utterly devoid of people. I think I encountered one person the entire visit. I was thrilled because it let me add a second album to my collection of “places that are gorgeous and deserve photographs taken of them without all those annoying people in the way”, and I celebrated the reactions from people. Which were, more or less, that is was incredibly weird to see it portrayed in perfectly normal lighting and color and tone, but missing the one thing that everyone takes for granted: passersby. Anyways, I reawoke this old dead account (I have since changed names everywhere, here too) so I can link the album and talk about it. Not because I care about appreciation of my photos, but because as an early adopter of the trend, I found it was possible to create the eeriness of today’s ’liminal spaces’ without the ‘lifeless’ characteristics of the Backrooms, House of Leaves, an so on. It’s a lot easier to create that feeling with decay, with monotonality, with cookie-cutter cubicle mazes; and, the theory tends to connect with people more readily as plausible if you include ‘rotted by time and age’ to justify the emptiness as Horizon Zero Dawn and Last of Is both lovingly demonstrated. But at the core of all of this modern liminal, is portraying human-dense spaces as human-zero, and then confronting the eternal question that haunts humanity: “What happens in the dark forest when no humans are observing?” Whether it’s a cubicle maze or a carnival ride, as the world grows more and more crowded and lonely, it’s no wonder that we want to spy on our busiest spaces after we’ve all gone home for the day. What do they get up to? Where did all the people go? Is this merely a painting of a screaming person on a wall, or is this space empty because they were consumed? https://www.flickr.com/photos/floatingatoll/albums/721576328... |