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This place is where early Mormons settled. It's no wonder why they chose these spots; they are splendid!
During rehearsals for this years 'Fertile Ground' new double bill of performances across the n-e of England.
Never miss a chance.
It is no secret that the former Chicago Theological Seminary building is a favorite subject of mine. So it should come as no surprise that, while in Chicago for a wedding the weekend last, I made a few images in the old place. It now houses the Milton Friedman Institute. Many quips about how holy Friedman's ideas are to the University of Chicago have undoubtedly been made during the transition. The interior spaces within the building are cartoonishly beautiful and, in light of recent modifications made to the building, I am particularly glad to have had the chance to photograph here over the past years. At the time, I felt like I was sticking a little close to the beaten path of my previous work, specifically I worried with such limited time if I was using it to its fullest. Knowing now that this place is changing dramatically for the first time in ages, I feel like I unwittingly used the opportunity to its fullest. Don't miss a chance even if the subject be one well covered.
My relationship with religion and religious buildings.
I won't mince words. Religious thought as a method for understanding our objective world has been obsolete for centuries. We have shown what some of our ancestors must have long suspected: that scripture contains little if any objective truth. Scientific study of religion, religious peoples and religious culture, I believe, remains a fertile ground for understanding human psychology, etc. If I can point to any one remnant of the religious edifice as remaining highly valuable artistically and culturally, it is just that - the buildings. I'm a sucker for great (especially Gothic and neo-Gothic) architecture and, over the last few centuries, religious institutions along with the academy have been our sole source thereof. Secularists should be able to separate the culturally valuable remnants of religion from any adherence to dogma or belief in mythology. I found it very sad, then, to learn that in its purchase and renovation of the Chicago Theological Seminary's building, the University of Chicago, finding the beautiful glass panels throughout the chapels "inappropriate" for the buildings new use, removed all but a few of these works of art in the name of propriety. I remember these richly colored stained glass panels and, as no fan of religion, I can safely say they were quite beautiful. So, while I still think a University fit to be the steward of an architecturally triumphant religious building, I worry that poor decisions can be and are being made with regard to the value of the building's decoration.
The first image on this post and the following two were taking in the Hilton Chapel on the southern end of the building. To get there, one takes the corridor on the right of the photograph above. Past the weary, gray steps are the columns and entrance to what, I've read, the AIA Guide to Chicago calls a "tiny gem," the Hilton Chapel. A tiny gem this place is indeed. The entryway is stunning, two columns and a small portico with arched windows and (formerly) leaded stained glass guarded the entry into the chapel proper (scroll to the end of this post to see what this shot looks like without HDR). I could lose myself for hours poking my head into doorways and hallways, trying to find new angles on the intricate and highly decorated Gothic buildings throughout the City Gray. Whenever I find a new spot it is like meeting an old friend for the first time. The theme, the mood, the feelings may be the same, but that a place at once so old but so new to me is opened up is one of the principle joys of carrying a heavy camera around tight hallways and up stone steps.
The inside of the chapel is tiny indeed, but beautiful. In my mind, this is the little church in which Romeo and Juliet were wed. It isn't unusual for me to find students studying away in all the nooks and crannies of these many buildings, wrapped up from the cold in a scarf and a thick coat, but here I was surprised to find no one at all. What a wonderful little spot this would be to grab a book and find some quiet time! Here the loss of those stained glass icons is plain to see. The room is flooded with light, but the cold white of the windows is a reminder of what beautiful colors once played there. What a wonderful spot this would make for a very small wedding!
Never miss a chance.
It is no secret that the former Chicago Theological Seminary building is a favorite subject of mine. So it should come as no surprise that, while in Chicago for a wedding the weekend last, I made a few images in the old place. It now houses the Milton Friedman Institute. Many quips about how holy Friedman's ideas are to the University of Chicago have undoubtedly been made during the transition. The interior spaces within the building are cartoonishly beautiful and, in light of recent modifications made to the building, I am particularly glad to have had the chance to photograph here over the past years. At the time, I felt like I was sticking a little close to the beaten path of my previous work, specifically I worried with such limited time if I was using it to its fullest. Knowing now that this place is changing dramatically for the first time in ages, I feel like I unwittingly used the opportunity to its fullest. Don't miss a chance even if the subject be one well covered.
My relationship with religion and religious buildings.
I won't mince words. Religious thought as a method for understanding our objective world has been obsolete for centuries. We have shown what some of our ancestors must have long suspected: that scripture contains little if any objective truth. Scientific study of religion, religious peoples and religious culture, I believe, remains a fertile ground for understanding human psychology, etc. If I can point to any one remnant of the religious edifice as remaining highly valuable artistically and culturally, it is just that - the buildings. I'm a sucker for great (especially Gothic and neo-Gothic) architecture and, over the last few centuries, religious institutions along with the academy have been our sole source thereof. Secularists should be able to separate the culturally valuable remnants of religion from any adherence to dogma or belief in mythology. I found it very sad, then, to learn that in its purchase and renovation of the Chicago Theological Seminary's building, the University of Chicago, finding the beautiful glass panels throughout the chapels "inappropriate" for the buildings new use, removed all but a few of these works of art in the name of propriety. I remember these richly colored stained glass panels and, as no fan of religion, I can safely say they were quite beautiful. So, while I still think a University fit to be the steward of an architecturally triumphant religious building, I worry that poor decisions can be and are being made with regard to the value of the building's decoration.
The first image on this post and the following two were taking in the Hilton Chapel on the southern end of the building. To get there, one takes the corridor on the right of the photograph above. Past the weary, gray steps are the columns and entrance to what, I've read, the AIA Guide to Chicago calls a "tiny gem," the Hilton Chapel. A tiny gem this place is indeed. The entryway is stunning, two columns and a small portico with arched windows and (formerly) leaded stained glass guarded the entry into the chapel proper (scroll to the end of this post to see what this shot looks like without HDR). I could lose myself for hours poking my head into doorways and hallways, trying to find new angles on the intricate and highly decorated Gothic buildings throughout the City Gray. Whenever I find a new spot it is like meeting an old friend for the first time. The theme, the mood, the feelings may be the same, but that a place at once so old but so new to me is opened up is one of the principle joys of carrying a heavy camera around tight hallways and up stone steps.
The inside of the chapel is tiny indeed, but beautiful. In my mind, this is the little church in which Romeo and Juliet were wed. It isn't unusual for me to find students studying away in all the nooks and crannies of these many buildings, wrapped up from the cold in a scarf and a thick coat, but here I was surprised to find no one at all. What a wonderful little spot this would be to grab a book and find some quiet time! Here the loss of those stained glass icons is plain to see. The room is flooded with light, but the cold white of the windows is a reminder of what beautiful colors once played there. What a wonderful spot this would make for a very small wedding!
View an in-depth tutorial of how to process an image like this at thegoldensieve.com
Never miss a chance.
It is no secret that the former Chicago Theological Seminary building is a favorite subject of mine. So it should come as no surprise that, while in Chicago for a wedding the weekend last, I made a few images in the old place. It now houses the Milton Friedman Institute. Many quips about how holy Friedman's ideas are to the University of Chicago have undoubtedly been made during the transition. The interior spaces within the building are cartoonishly beautiful and, in light of recent modifications made to the building, I am particularly glad to have had the chance to photograph here over the past years. At the time, I felt like I was sticking a little close to the beaten path of my previous work, specifically I worried with such limited time if I was using it to its fullest. Knowing now that this place is changing dramatically for the first time in ages, I feel like I unwittingly used the opportunity to its fullest. Don't miss a chance even if the subject be one well covered.
My relationship with religion and religious buildings.
I won't mince words. Religious thought as a method for understanding our objective world has been obsolete for centuries. We have shown what some of our ancestors must have long suspected: that scripture contains little if any objective truth. Scientific study of religion, religious peoples and religious culture, I believe, remains a fertile ground for understanding human psychology, etc. If I can point to any one remnant of the religious edifice as remaining highly valuable artistically and culturally, it is just that - the buildings. I'm a sucker for great (especially Gothic and neo-Gothic) architecture and, over the last few centuries, religious institutions along with the academy have been our sole source thereof. Secularists should be able to separate the culturally valuable remnants of religion from any adherence to dogma or belief in mythology. I found it very sad, then, to learn that in its purchase and renovation of the Chicago Theological Seminary's building, the University of Chicago, finding the beautiful glass panels throughout the chapels "inappropriate" for the buildings new use, removed all but a few of these works of art in the name of propriety. I remember these richly colored stained glass panels and, as no fan of religion, I can safely say they were quite beautiful. So, while I still think a University fit to be the steward of an architecturally triumphant religious building, I worry that poor decisions can be and are being made with regard to the value of the building's decoration.
The first image on this post and the following two were taking in the Hilton Chapel on the southern end of the building. To get there, one takes the corridor on the right of the photograph above. Past the weary, gray steps are the columns and entrance to what, I've read, the AIA Guide to Chicago calls a "tiny gem," the Hilton Chapel. A tiny gem this place is indeed. The entryway is stunning, two columns and a small portico with arched windows and (formerly) leaded stained glass guarded the entry into the chapel proper (scroll to the end of this post to see what this shot looks like without HDR). I could lose myself for hours poking my head into doorways and hallways, trying to find new angles on the intricate and highly decorated Gothic buildings throughout the City Gray. Whenever I find a new spot it is like meeting an old friend for the first time. The theme, the mood, the feelings may be the same, but that a place at once so old but so new to me is opened up is one of the principle joys of carrying a heavy camera around tight hallways and up stone steps.
The inside of the chapel is tiny indeed, but beautiful. In my mind, this is the little church in which Romeo and Juliet were wed. It isn't unusual for me to find students studying away in all the nooks and crannies of these many buildings, wrapped up from the cold in a scarf and a thick coat, but here I was surprised to find no one at all. What a wonderful little spot this would be to grab a book and find some quiet time! Here the loss of those stained glass icons is plain to see. The room is flooded with light, but the cold white of the windows is a reminder of what beautiful colors once played there. What a wonderful spot this would make for a very small wedding!
Never miss a chance.
It is no secret that the former Chicago Theological Seminary building is a favorite subject of mine. So it should come as no surprise that, while in Chicago for a wedding the weekend last, I made a few images in the old place. It now houses the Milton Friedman Institute. Many quips about how holy Friedman's ideas are to the University of Chicago have undoubtedly been made during the transition. The interior spaces within the building are cartoonishly beautiful and, in light of recent modifications made to the building, I am particularly glad to have had the chance to photograph here over the past years. At the time, I felt like I was sticking a little close to the beaten path of my previous work, specifically I worried with such limited time if I was using it to its fullest. Knowing now that this place is changing dramatically for the first time in ages, I feel like I unwittingly used the opportunity to its fullest. Don't miss a chance even if the subject be one well covered.
My relationship with religion and religious buildings.
I won't mince words. Religious thought as a method for understanding our objective world has been obsolete for centuries. We have shown what some of our ancestors must have long suspected: that scripture contains little if any objective truth. Scientific study of religion, religious peoples and religious culture, I believe, remains a fertile ground for understanding human psychology, etc. If I can point to any one remnant of the religious edifice as remaining highly valuable artistically and culturally, it is just that - the buildings. I'm a sucker for great (especially Gothic and neo-Gothic) architecture and, over the last few centuries, religious institutions along with the academy have been our sole source thereof. Secularists should be able to separate the culturally valuable remnants of religion from any adherence to dogma or belief in mythology. I found it very sad, then, to learn that in its purchase and renovation of the Chicago Theological Seminary's building, the University of Chicago, finding the beautiful glass panels throughout the chapels "inappropriate" for the buildings new use, removed all but a few of these works of art in the name of propriety. I remember these richly colored stained glass panels and, as no fan of religion, I can safely say they were quite beautiful. So, while I still think a University fit to be the steward of an architecturally triumphant religious building, I worry that poor decisions can be and are being made with regard to the value of the building's decoration.
The first image on this post and the following two were taking in the Hilton Chapel on the southern end of the building. To get there, one takes the corridor on the right of the photograph above. Past the weary, gray steps are the columns and entrance to what, I've read, the AIA Guide to Chicago calls a "tiny gem," the Hilton Chapel. A tiny gem this place is indeed. The entryway is stunning, two columns and a small portico with arched windows and (formerly) leaded stained glass guarded the entry into the chapel proper (scroll to the end of this post to see what this shot looks like without HDR). I could lose myself for hours poking my head into doorways and hallways, trying to find new angles on the intricate and highly decorated Gothic buildings throughout the City Gray. Whenever I find a new spot it is like meeting an old friend for the first time. The theme, the mood, the feelings may be the same, but that a place at once so old but so new to me is opened up is one of the principle joys of carrying a heavy camera around tight hallways and up stone steps.
The inside of the chapel is tiny indeed, but beautiful. In my mind, this is the little church in which Romeo and Juliet were wed. It isn't unusual for me to find students studying away in all the nooks and crannies of these many buildings, wrapped up from the cold in a scarf and a thick coat, but here I was surprised to find no one at all. What a wonderful little spot this would be to grab a book and find some quiet time! Here the loss of those stained glass icons is plain to see. The room is flooded with light, but the cold white of the windows is a reminder of what beautiful colors once played there. What a wonderful spot this would make for a very small wedding!
Never miss a chance.
It is no secret that the former Chicago Theological Seminary building is a favorite subject of mine. So it should come as no surprise that, while in Chicago for a wedding the weekend last, I made a few images in the old place. It now houses the Milton Friedman Institute. Many quips about how holy Friedman's ideas are to the University of Chicago have undoubtedly been made during the transition. The interior spaces within the building are cartoonishly beautiful and, in light of recent modifications made to the building, I am particularly glad to have had the chance to photograph here over the past years. At the time, I felt like I was sticking a little close to the beaten path of my previous work, specifically I worried with such limited time if I was using it to its fullest. Knowing now that this place is changing dramatically for the first time in ages, I feel like I unwittingly used the opportunity to its fullest. Don't miss a chance even if the subject be one well covered.
My relationship with religion and religious buildings.
I won't mince words. Religious thought as a method for understanding our objective world has been obsolete for centuries. We have shown what some of our ancestors must have long suspected: that scripture contains little if any objective truth. Scientific study of religion, religious peoples and religious culture, I believe, remains a fertile ground for understanding human psychology, etc. If I can point to any one remnant of the religious edifice as remaining highly valuable artistically and culturally, it is just that - the buildings. I'm a sucker for great (especially Gothic and neo-Gothic) architecture and, over the last few centuries, religious institutions along with the academy have been our sole source thereof. Secularists should be able to separate the culturally valuable remnants of religion from any adherence to dogma or belief in mythology. I found it very sad, then, to learn that in its purchase and renovation of the Chicago Theological Seminary's building, the University of Chicago, finding the beautiful glass panels throughout the chapels "inappropriate" for the buildings new use, removed all but a few of these works of art in the name of propriety. I remember these richly colored stained glass panels and, as no fan of religion, I can safely say they were quite beautiful. So, while I still think a University fit to be the steward of an architecturally triumphant religious building, I worry that poor decisions can be and are being made with regard to the value of the building's decoration.
The first image on this post and the following two were taking in the Hilton Chapel on the southern end of the building. To get there, one takes the corridor on the right of the photograph above. Past the weary, gray steps are the columns and entrance to what, I've read, the AIA Guide to Chicago calls a "tiny gem," the Hilton Chapel. A tiny gem this place is indeed. The entryway is stunning, two columns and a small portico with arched windows and (formerly) leaded stained glass guarded the entry into the chapel proper (scroll to the end of this post to see what this shot looks like without HDR). I could lose myself for hours poking my head into doorways and hallways, trying to find new angles on the intricate and highly decorated Gothic buildings throughout the City Gray. Whenever I find a new spot it is like meeting an old friend for the first time. The theme, the mood, the feelings may be the same, but that a place at once so old but so new to me is opened up is one of the principle joys of carrying a heavy camera around tight hallways and up stone steps.
The inside of the chapel is tiny indeed, but beautiful. In my mind, this is the little church in which Romeo and Juliet were wed. It isn't unusual for me to find students studying away in all the nooks and crannies of these many buildings, wrapped up from the cold in a scarf and a thick coat, but here I was surprised to find no one at all. What a wonderful little spot this would be to grab a book and find some quiet time! Here the loss of those stained glass icons is plain to see. The room is flooded with light, but the cold white of the windows is a reminder of what beautiful colors once played there. What a wonderful spot this would make for a very small wedding!
Right at the take-off from the 101 (on its way to Monterey) onto 25 on the way to Hollister. I spent a lot of time debating whether the car would be safe on the highway as I walked the half mile to this warehouse in the middle of a large farm bisected by two rail lines. I'm getting better at not being too self-conscious when I seek photo ops.
A year ago, I was reading Derrick Jensen’s ‘Endgame,’ and starving for thoughtful discussion partners. The book deals with the destruction of nature at the hands of civilized humans and unequivocally begs the question of what we are to do about it. Few of my peers seemed interested in exploring the premises informing our culture and the havoc it wreaks on the world’s natural and human communities. I felt alien among my peers. Though the sentiment was hardly new, Jensen’s articulation left me with no option but to face the realities. The ugliness, fear and horror became fixed in me.
A friend once told me that coincidence is the most common event in the universe. With seven billion people on the planet, it is probable that any considerable number of them are wrestling with exactly the same challenges at exactly the same time. Though the anguish lasted for months, an email eventually appeared in my inbox. It contained an invitation. Someone else was reading Jensen, and they wanted to meet. A week later, it was evening, and I found myself sitting comfortably in a warmly colored room, cradling a mug of tea and listening.
The six of us who showed that night felt the warm glow of impending revolution. We were three students and three professional adults. Our common ground laid in the belief that our imperiled Earth was in dire need of committed protectors. Our small band of activists, each heartened to have found community in the wash of consistently underwhelming, narcotized, and otherwise disinterested social offerings, sat for hours discussing the brutal war industrial civilization wages on wild nature. We shared the path by which each of us had come to realize our culture was, in effect, directly opposed to the flourishing of natural systems. To uncivilized humans. To life itself.
The premise informing our small group’s dialogue was Jensen’s own: Civilization is not and can never be sustainable, and this truism reached its purest expression in industrial civilization. On that day, there was no dispute about this. Once confident among our own, the discussion turned to the subject of what we, together could do about it.
That October meeting marked the birth of Whatcom County’s ‘Fertile Ground.’ The aim of the group is no less than to restore Earth, resist domination, and rewild humans. A large task? Yes. Impossible and ridiculous by the standards of most? Definitely. For their efforts, Fertile Ground will receive the laughter and marginalization of those who have thoroughly metabolized the ubiquitous pathologies of industrial, corporate and super-consumer culture. This is unfortunate for them and their audience, because the individuals comprising the group are doing some of the best global-warming, social justice and peak-oil research and survival work out there.
For the fifty who snicker, one feels intrigued. After that first meeting, our small group grew from six to seven, and then to eight, and back down again. Today their membership reaches just shy of seventy. They hold weekly meetings and workshops, organize outdoor expeditions and even brought Jensen to speak on Western Washington University’s campus. Fertile ground is growing, and our community is all the better for it. If, and when the ecological apocalypse comes, be it slowly or all at once, tomorrow or in one-hundred years, Fertile Ground will be among those most likely to survive it.
Rick Dubrow, co-founder of Fertile Ground, is seen here at the rim of Mt. St. Helen’s last June in full form. Like a few others, he’s sick of the suffering, and he’s doing something about it.
Read Fertile Ground’s statement of ‘Purpose and Intent’ here: fertileground1.ning.com/page/purpose-and-intent
Photos from Fertile Ground's set during the African American Heritage Festival in Baltimore, MD on June 29, 2008.
Photos from Fertile Ground's set during the African American Heritage Festival in Baltimore, MD on June 29, 2008.
Beer from Black Warrior, Tuscaloosa, Alabama, Fertile Ground, Jackson, Mississippi, and Flying Tiger, Monroe, Louisiana.