Though this doesn't fit into the two projects I've been working on (compressed industrial spaces and industrial decay), it fits into the category of "other interesting stuff I'd like to make a project of eventually." Specifically, photographing the nation's energy infrastructure, contrasting the old with the new - in a very neutral documentary manner. Sorry I haven't developed the theme beyond that yet. I'd just like to avoid politicizing the project. Generally I dislike art as propaganda.

Previously I'd worked for what I affectionately called a "quasi-renewable energy company." The company's primary mission was to use its energy storage technology to increase overall efficiency and reliability of the grid. Also the flagship consumer product was a battery system that, when hooked up to solar panels or wind turbines, could allow you to power your house completely off-grid. Sounds cool (and renewable), right? Well, that part was. I say "quasi-renewable" because almost all revenue came from selling the flagship systems to rather wealthy clients who could give a rat's ass about renewable energy - they simply wanted to keep their home's lights on in a power outage. Not that that's a bad thing. It's just not a world-shaker of an idea.

Anyway, we could be at the beginning of a massive shift toward renewable energy and distributed generation (energy being produced on-site), which could make transmission lines like this obsolete. I'm guessing most readers fell asleep midway through the second paragraph, so I'll cut off this post here.

This is a 3-shot HDR made in FDR Tools. The infrared look was created using photoshop's channel mixer. There's a quick (and old) tutorial on how to create-looking shots by Ken Rockwell here.

As I walk in to some of these abandoned places I've come to the habit of approaching quietly and quickly scanning the premises for anyone else inside. Though squatters and homeless are usually harmless, I'd prefer not to come in contact with anyone at all while long distant from the next closest set of eyes and ears.

This place, though, was uninhabitable even for the homeless. Vast openings to the outside would leave one scarcely shielded form the elements, and the interiors themselves were littered with debris, filth, and barrels of a not-well-sealed substance labeled "Compound B" (you can see one of the barrels inside the door). The indication was that it was a chemical used in the manufacturing of plastics or other synthetic materials. This building more or less attached to several others that have been renovated and are being used, so I'm guessing it isn't dangerous stuff - there were no "hazardous" signs, odors, or discoloration of the barrels or ground around them. Maybe they're decoys put there by the owner of the building to keep homeless away.

Back in October, beginning with this shot of an old chemical tank at the now-abandoned Bethlehem Steel site in Buffalo (no, it's not an HDR), I started to notice how intense colors can become as industrial structures decay. The combination of paint flecking, oxidization, chemical stains, grime, and overgrowth can result in color saturation and patterns that are so fantastic that they almost appear fake. I like to stay relatively true to the original scene when editing, but do generally try to add emphasis to the intensity of the color. This is a 5-shot HDR, but a very mild one - the purpose was not to mash together vastly different tonal ranges, but push apart the individual colors a bit. I probably could have achieved something very similar with a "naturally aspirated" (non-HDR) edit as well, but this was my first attempt and I liked it, so here it is. You can see the original image here.

NOTE: Comments are again working!

My apologies to all that have commented lately only to see their words get lost in the abyss. Legit comments are all disappearing for a reason I can only hope Movable Type can fix for the $99 support fee I paid. The big kick in the balls is that the blog software is inexplicably letting through spam comments at a rate of one every ten seconds.

I'm giving MT three hours to get back to me. After that, I'm starting the move over to pixelpost.

I love this photograph. This is the interior of what I think was the power generation building a the old Wurlitzer plant (I've emailed the building owner to confirm). The Wurlitzer family built musical instruments as far back as the 1650's, moving into the rapidly expanding US market in the 1850's. They moved to this building in North Tonawanda, NY around 1900, possibly because of proximity to the Erie Canal and a highly skilled German-speaking local workforce. They continued to produce traditional instruments, but are more famous for the pipe organs and juke boxes made here. As the demand for those faded, so did the Wurlitzer company until it closed in 1973. It was at one point the world's largest musical instrument plant.

Bullet holes, crumbled concrete platforms, rusted girders, soot-stained ceiling - all beautifully lit from several vast banks of surprisingly intact windows. The complexity of this structure and the visual disorientation it makes one feel is only appropriate for the company that was known for making tremendously complex machines.

This is an HDR composite of 5 images put together in FDR Tools, and the first shot I'm publishing taken with the most recent addition to my small collection of lenses - a Sigma 10-20mm (at 10mm).

This is the third in a series of the oft-overlooked side of the Wurlitzer plant in North Tonawanda, NY. Initially I was going to edit one, then batch the other two so that all three matched and could be displayed side by side, but when viewed individually, I think they look better with the unique edits I gave to each.

This is the second in a series from the old Wurlitzer plant in North Tonawanda, NY. Typically I go to industrial spaces with predetermined focus on something I'd like to shoot, but many of my favorite shots are isolations of details that were never intended to be, but nonetheless have become "accidental art."

This is the side of the old Wurlitzer plant in North Tonawanda, NY. The title is inspired by the old Chuck Jones cartoon "The Dot and the Line" which made me realize that beauty can be very simple. More on this later.

To all that have tried to comment - my apologies for my stupid "captcha" plugin being broken and giving you the somewhat insulting "the text you entered was wrong" error. No, it was not in fact a personal attack - what it was referring to is the little squiggly-word authentication device is supposed to be installed to combat spam. For some reason, Movable Type thinks it's there, but in fact is is not.

Alas, it is fixed. Please comment as much as you'd like, and feel free to vent about the stupid broken comments. You may see some spam comments here and there - until I get my authentication fixed, I'm stuck accepting all comments or no comments. Thanks Conni and Pat for the heads up on the problem.

This is a shot from my first Bethlehem Steel shoot back in October. Toward the back of the site, where they used to dump all the slag on Lake Erie's shore, are handful of enormous new wind turbines. Despite my experience in the renewable energy field, I'd never actually seen one up close, so I decided to venture back into the area to take a look. I'd have to say they're quire amazing, but the story of them is for another post. On my way back toward the old abandoned buildings, I noticed this scene.

Unfortunately, it's not a very crisp photo. A tiny bit of camera shake makes it far less than perfect, but it's good enough for an 800-pixel-wide blog post.

As some of you may know, back in February I came back from a holiday in California to find that my company had suddenly closed - somewhat of a victim of the recent economic downturn, somewhat of a victim of squandering executives. The last months at the job were extremely difficult. Everyone was aware that the company had fallen on tough times, but we were constantly being told that a core group of investors that realized that we had a good product stood behind the company and would be there to make sure we'd get through it. I'd really thrown myself into the job more than I had any previous position, and I'd started to develop a niche market that looked as though had no other company had penetrated yet.

Then the company closed. Surprisingly, I didn't feel much of anything when I was told about it. If anything it was relief that I most dominantly felt. Since I've been keeping quite busy taking photographs and pursuing a photography-related business idea. Technically, though, I'm unemployed.

What does this have to do with the picture you see here? This photo is of a residential neighborhood in south Buffalo that sits in the shadow of "Elevator Alley." Though the area is still the home of many business (most notably General Mills), the grain and steel industries that had driven population growth in the area are largely long gone and what's left is a downtrodden area with a high rate of unemployment. I don't have any statistics showing exactly what the unemployment rate is in the area shown, but when I look at it I can't help but think that a good many of those that live there are similarly unemployed.

This is a second shot in the series highlighting the remains of the old New York Central Rail Yard in the recently-completed Riverside Park South on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The remnants of the piers you see here were, until 1971, where much of New York City's milk, grain, and vegetables came ashore. This is at approximately 60th Street, looking north. About a half mile in the distance is a pedestrian pier completed with the new Trump residential towers, with the George Washington in the background six miles away.

The day was hazy and had a bit of a warmtone feel to it, which I attempted to preserve with an appropriate split-toning. The toning also encourages the dominant sense of age and history that one feels when visiting this site.

If you're interested, there's more information on the history of the 60th Street Rail Yard here.

Yes, blog, I know I've been gone a while. I was busy. Very busy. With what? Eh, I'll leave that for a future post. Right now I just want to break the ice that's been developing for a month and post an image.

For the past six month or so I've been very keen on photographing old industrial spaces. As I've shot more and more my reasons for doing so have expanded considerably, but one of the foremost is to promote the idea that decaying old industrial structures aren't always eyesores that should be torn down - that they can be stunningly beautiful monuments to a place's past glory.

What you see here is a walkway in the recently completed southern extension of Riverside Park on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, with the twisted wreckage of the "Pier D" in the background. Until it and several other nearby piers were destroyed in a spectacular blaze in 1971, this area was used by the New York Central Railroad to dock train cars containing bulk cargo that were ferried across the Hudson. There were various plans to remove the twisted steel over the years, but the pier's history and accidental Gehry-esque beauty appear to have won it a permanent stay.

There is a New York Times article on Pier D here.