mixing memory and desire

Some pictures on this blog come from my personal collection. Some come from the vast, fetid swamp of the internet.

The space shown here has probably not changed since this picture was taken several years ago. The contemplative gentleman at the far end of the room may have been thinking of Homer, and how the artists of our time have to work just as hard as he did to keep the audience engaged.

If I had been considerate of privacy, I could have cropped him out, along with the mop bucket and the trashcan. Our perception of the space would have been different in most regards. We might notice more acutely how the photographer was an amateur. How the dilapidated room has a much more romantic quality because it is uncontaminated by people. We would have been even more lost in time.

Representations of architecture devoid of people have a demeaning and dishonest effect. A picture, or model, or virtual reality tour--no matter the level of detail--has not one tenth of the value of the memory of an experience. But, even solitary experiences of architecture should be regarded with skepticism. If you actually go to an abandoned building your presence there gives it a legitimacy that subverts its claim to abandonment. The sublime appeal of the ruin comes partly from its falsification of experience. We hold the ruin in high regard because we can go there with the expectation that it will be ruined and abandoned. Ultimately, on some particular visit, we discover that other people go there and we can only conclude that the structure is dormant, but still functional.