I would like now to introduce two things; my underground obsession and a short film. I’m not sure anymore how it happened; it is likely that Nickolias brought it on me with Infiltration zines and tales of tunnel running, or that the caves at my kids camp and the bat cave exhibit at the ROM started it. Whatever it was it has led me into storm drains and underground rivers, subways and abandoned subways, a handful of small caves and the creepy hole in the basement wall of my parents’ house that leads to a space under the kitchen. This obsession- and for those who don’t know me let it be known that I am a very obsessive person- has recently been revived by an article I found while researching mass property abandonment in Detroit. The article was about homeless people living in storm drains under Las Vegas. I ordered the book, “Beneath the Neon” detailing a reporters experience in those tunnels. Don’t buy this book. It may be the worst piece of shit I will force myself to read since Hausers’ Introduction to Rhetorical Theory. Book review/detailed rant to come?
To feed my fires I’ve been hunting down maps, articles, fiction and videos that include subterranean settings. I’m going to begin posting bits of what I find here, beginning with Andrew Wonder’s spectacular account of urbex in New York.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Another set of old housing photos. Mom and I drove halfway to pick Nickolias up so that he could stay a week at my place. Judging by my hair and faulty memory this was when I was 17. I guess this house burned down and they hadn't gotten around to knocking it the rest of the way down yet. The sweet spoon that I'm wearing in the last pic was found on the ground in the abandoned subway in Rochester. I took it home, boiled it and got my dad to drill a hole through the handle so that I could have it with me always. It was fantastic for emergency snacking; I still have a problem remembering to bring cutlery. I should probably try to find it next time I'm at my parents house...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
One of my favorite talkies is Perfume, Story of a Murderer. It is the only book to film translation wherein I have found the film to be better than the book; the acting is phenomenal, the script well written and the film is visually stunning- particularly for someone with my love of dirt. My favorite part is the bridge top residence of Baldini. It sparks the same love in me that BLAME! Artwork and drain tunnels and hobbit homes do. If you have not seen this movie and you can handle some gore and weirdness, do try to see it. The following pictures contain only an ounce of the awesomeness that is that film.