I've often looked at myself and my relationship with Michigan like James Joyce and Dublin. Joyce, having left Ireland for good, idealized Ireland, attaching romantic qualities to the dirty, soot covered backstreets and smoky, dive-bar-type pubs. And I guess I do the same thing - I find the grimy, rusting, post-industrial landscape poetic, apocalyptic, hopeful, beautiful, and kind of dreamy. The longer I stay away it seems, the more I feel like royalty in exile - Napoleon in Elba, staring out to sea, endlessly dreaming of home.
Michael McKenna it seems, shoots Detroit not as it actually appears, rather how it appears in my mind. McKenna makes River Rouge - a post-apocalyptic nightmare or smoke and fire and ominous, gargantuan iron landscapes - look heavenly. Take a look at his work here, it is fabulous.
I love to look at his work here, on this Sunday morning, as I recover from yet another illness, dreaming of home.
Michael McKenna it seems, shoots Detroit not as it actually appears, rather how it appears in my mind. McKenna makes River Rouge - a post-apocalyptic nightmare or smoke and fire and ominous, gargantuan iron landscapes - look heavenly. Take a look at his work here, it is fabulous.
I love to look at his work here, on this Sunday morning, as I recover from yet another illness, dreaming of home.
