A PARADISE LOST
Les vrais paradis sont les paradis qu'on a perdus.
(The only paradise is paradise lost)
- Marcel Proust-
In summer of 2011 I made repeat visits to Governors Island, drawn to the vulnerability and mournfulness of the deserted buildings edging into deterioration. Worn-out floor boards that creakily recount every single step, whispering draft that breathes through the leaking window frames into the abandoned rooms, peeling paint and crumbling plaster that disclose the wooden and red brick skeletons, rusty fixtures that gnarl their restraint memories evoke a feeling of being an intruder into a land that hid itself from time.
The images of the series do not claim to document architecture they are rather a response to the ghostly traces of human civilization that endured and the remnants of residential architecture that lost it's function over a long period of desertion.
Les vrais paradis sont les paradis qu'on a perdus.
(The only paradise is paradise lost)
- Marcel Proust-
In summer of 2011 I made repeat visits to Governors Island, drawn to the vulnerability and mournfulness of the deserted buildings edging into deterioration. Worn-out floor boards that creakily recount every single step, whispering draft that breathes through the leaking window frames into the abandoned rooms, peeling paint and crumbling plaster that disclose the wooden and red brick skeletons, rusty fixtures that gnarl their restraint memories evoke a feeling of being an intruder into a land that hid itself from time.
The images of the series do not claim to document architecture they are rather a response to the ghostly traces of human civilization that endured and the remnants of residential architecture that lost it's function over a long period of desertion.
