Detroit at the end of the assembly an astonishing record of urban ruin No longer the Motor City of boom-time industry, the city of Detroit has fallen into an incredible state of dilapidation since the decline of the American auto industry after the Second World War. Today, whole sections of the city resemble a war zone, its once-spectacular architectural grandeur reduced to vacant ruins. In Detroit Disassembled , photographer Andrew Moore records a territory in which the ordinary flow of time-or the forward march of the assembly line-appears to have been thrown spectacularly into reverse. For Moore, who throughout his career has been drawn to all that contradicts or seems to threaten America's postwar self-image (his previous projects include portraits of Cuba and Soviet Russia), Detroit's decline affirms the carnivorousness of our earth, as it seeps into and overruns the buildings of a city that once epitomized humankind's supposed supremacy. In Detroit Disassembled , Moore locates both dignity and tragedy in the city's decline, among postapocalyptic landscapes of windowless grand hotels, vast barren factory floors, collapsing churches, offices carpeted in velvety moss and entire blocks reclaimed by prairie grass. Beyond their jawdropping content, Moore's photographs inevitably raise the uneasy question of the long-term future of a country in which such extreme degradation can exist unchecked.
Andrew Lambdin Moore is an American photographer and filmmaker known for large format color photographs of Detroit, Cuba, Russia, the American High Plains, and New York’s Times Square theaters. Moore’s photographs employ the formal vocabularies of architectural and landscape photography and the narrative approaches of documentary photography and journalism to detail remnants of societies in transition. His photographic essays have been published in monographs, anthologies, and magazines including The New York Times Magazine, Time, The New Yorker, National Geographic, Harper’s Magazine, The New York Review of Books, Fortune, Wired, and Art in America. Moore’s video work has been featured on PBS and MTV; his feature-length documentary about the artist Ray Johnson, “How to Draw a Bunny,” won the Special Jury Prize at the 2002 Sundance Film Festival. Moore teaches in the MFA Photography, Video and Related Media program at the School of Visual Arts in New York.
The longer this sits on my profile the more I feel obligated to comment on this book which I spent 5 minutes leafing through in a Traverse City bookstore three weeks ago. If you are a fan of ruin porn then you'll certainly enjoy this book, the photos are beautiful, so my gripe then is with the concept of ruin porn. But I've frequented ruin porn sites myself, so where does one draw the line between trying to find beauty in decay and just being a sleaze-bag who profits from the misery of others? My answer is intentions, or more simply if you're not from here then don't come here just to revel in our decay, photograph your own fucking decay, asshole. When native Detroiters document the rise and fall of their own city, there is always the underlying sense of sadness and loss every time a historic building is razed or burns to the ground and an equally amount of joy when a historic building, sitting vacate since the 70s, is saved and given a new life. At its heart, most local ruin porn is about documenting the life that always continues in any circumstance, but with books like this it is only about the decay, Andrew Moore doesn't give a shit about Detroit, and in the end "giving a shit" is what separates the sites like www.DetroitFunk.com from opportunistic scumbags making a buck off of my city.
When I left Cleveland in 1962, i did not see myself as returning unless I had failed signally in making a new life for myself: The city was beginning to fall to pieces. Andrew Moore: Detroit Disassembled shows an even more extreme example of a large and powerful industrial city going to ruin quite suddenly. Except Andrew Moore makes much of the ruin look so beautiful that one doesn't imagine what it must smell like.
Pick up a copy of this book, and then read Shelley's poem "Ozymandias" with its terminal line, "Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair." Moore's equivalent: A graffiti that reads "God has left Detroit."
Photography can capture the perverse, unsettling beauty of decay unlike any other medium. Andrew Moore's photographs of the urban destruction and neglect in the once great (and hopefully to be great again) city of Detroit are unique works of art.
I find something incredibly satisfying about Moore's photos of a decaying post-apocalyptic Detroit. While the building are crumbling to nothing, nature is reasserting herself. Man has not conquered nature, nor ever will. We may be doing our damnedest to overpopulate and pollute the planet, but nature will have the last laugh.
The photos are also history in action. Often archaeologists unearth ruins and state in a purposeful (confused) tone that "trade routes must have changes and the social dynamic made people leave, yadda yadda." It sounds so fancifal, Why would people leave a perfectly good city and move elsewhere? Why wouldn't they take their stuff? You can't just leave a city and walk away... can you? Detroit is one of these ruined and obsolete places. Beautiful images showing a city that no longer serves a purpose.
After reading some of the reviews here that accuse the author of exploiting Detroit as “ruin porn,” I feel a little guilty admitting how much I was affected by a book that others perceived as insulting to their hometown. At the same time, it doesn't surprise me given the running media narrative that seems to portray Detroit as a one-note city of despair, degradation, and downward mobility, a cautionary tale about what can happen to a once-great city when industry leaves. From my outside perspective, I see Detroit less as a specimen to be examined, but more like a fascinating mash-up of abandoned, scavenged, and crumbling structures juxtaposed with wild, uninhabited tracts of land that seem to invite photographic proof of the strange existence of nature overtaking an urban environment. The photographs present many contrasts. Trees branch out through the pages of rotted books and caved-in roofs. A cat skeleton lays delicately curled on a chair amidst the remnants of someone's rice and beans, in an abandoned public library. A rooftop soiree with tech employees faces block after block of abandoned homes and empty lots. The book concludes with a very moving essay by Philip Levine, a poet and former Detroit resident. He reflects on the loss of time and the place, and marvels at what he views as a time of great change and upheaval.
This over-sized, lavish book of photographs by Andrew Moore captures and encapsulates a piece of American history. It is Detroit, 2008-2009, with many empty houses and abandoned buildings. The photographs are startling and often haunting, but in their way "beautiful". Included is a short Afterword by the photographer and an essay, "Nobody's Detroit", by Philip Levine. It was this essay, which I read, reprinted in a posthumous book of Levin's essays, that lead me to the book of photographs. Most of them have a wide sweeping focus. However, a close-up of a clock no longer working is reminiscent of but maybe better than "Persistence of Memory". Among other "astonishing" photographs (Philip Levine's adjective), there are trees growing out of a pile of books that had resulted from a collapsed roof in a children's book depository. There is much abandoned property mixed in with the crumbling buildings. This is a book of photographs you can "read" again and again.
Stunning photography. However, captions are lumped together, pages apart, and no details are given about the locations except the names. Nor are there reasons for their decay. Many of the locations photographed are repeated, so I feel I got a truncated look at the city.
This is a "coffee table" book of positively stunning photographs of Detroit by Andrew Moore. Moore's photographs have been featured in National Geographic (among other places). There are photos of former car manufacturing plants, schools, book depositories, churches and theaters. The list may seem mundane but the photos are anything but. Many have the visual equivalent of a sucker punch. Several have the feeling of time having just stopped; in one photo, time not only stopped but is in the process of sliding from the wall (you'll have to see the photo to know what I mean). Perhaps the photo that affected me the most was taken in the sanctuary of the East Grand Boulevard Methodist Church. In the middle of complete disrepair and rot you see written in gold leaf on a beam: "And you shall say God did it."
Following the photos is a beautiful essay by Pulitzer Prize winning poet Philip Levine . A Detroit native, he writes of visiting his "hometown" years after he left it and being shocked at what he finds. There were many quotes throughout his piece that rang true with me...most dealing with the fact that you can really never go home again.
"God has left Detroit", proclame un graffiti rencontré au détour d'un cliché. C'est bien un sentiment d'abandon d'une ampleur effarante qui ressort en feuilletant ce superbe recueil de photos. Ces dernières parleront sans doute encore plus aux amateurs d'urbex, mais leur composition et la force du sujet en font d'ores et déjà de grandes oeuvres.
The collection of images comprising Detroit Disassembled is wrenchingly, disturbingly beautiful and amid the bleakness, it is also strangely, perversely life affirming. Andrew Moore's photography is stunning, haunting and amazingly delicate. Philip Levine's accompanying essay is eye-stingingly blunt yet also ultimately hopeful.
Compared to the other photo books depicting the abandoned and forgotten, this is better. It's by far less preachy than Beauty in Decay II, and I liked the photos better than Asylum. Honestly, one Kirkbride is much the same as any other.
If a photographer agreed to do a portrait of you, but only photographed the snot inside your nose and the wax in your ears, would you feel he captured anything meaningful about you? He didn't "disassemble" Detroit, he exploited it.
I am a photography professor who also had a photo-based art practice. I read a lot of photo books, and I have to say that this may be one of the worst ones I have ever encountered. It is quintessential "ruin porn", where Moore intentionally sought out the worst of the worst, and presented it as modus operandi. He even went to grand structures and went to their storage areas or areas under construction to make them look dilapidated. The images themselves are basic, with the only quality that makes them special is his use of large format film (if you can't make it good, make it big). Otherwise, it is uninspired and wholly unoriginal.
As if that isn't bad enough, he writes an essay at the end talking about the most pandering and predictable thing: how wonderful the people are who live in this place he depicts so poorly.
Thankfully, this seems to be the last project he ever worked on.
Andrew Moore's photographs of Detroit's crumbling buildings are haunting. When I read a fictional dystopian book that has cities which have totally crumbled away over a long period of time, I tend to think "oh, how on earth could that ever happen to city "X"? Then I look at Moore's photos and I am shocked by how far gone they are, and how quickly it has happened. Some of these buildings were still in use not too long ago, and now they have been reduced to rubble and, in many cases, have gone back to nature. Nature is amazing; it's unbelievable how quickly she takes back what was taken away from her. I must also add that I had no idea that Detroit had had so many beautiful old buildings.
All the photos made me sad, but because I work in a public library I was particularly saddened and mesmerized by the shots of the Mark Twain library branch. I can't fathom how this building was just... deserted. The children's books are still sitting on the shelves, untouched except for the advances of mould and mildew. The view through the librarians' office door shows a shelf full of brand new books, on a New Books display shelf, simply abandoned. What did they do, just lock the door one night and never come back? Was money so tight they couldn't even disperse these books to other library branches in the city? To schools? To the poor? Sad, sad, sad. What a waste.
By pure coincidence I read this book the day before Detroit announced its plans for bankruptcy. A reminder to us that nothing stays the same forever, and that nothing humans create is invincible.
Stunning photos of ruins throughout the city. Anyone with interest in urban decay photography will enjoy this book.
I know there is a 'backlash' against 'ruin porn' by some (many?), but I really feel that the fascination with the abandoned structures in Detroit and other urban areas is misunderstood. I'm not happy to see the empty rotting structures around the city - it's sad. I can't imagine anyone being so cluesless as to prefer the artistry over progress and development.
But they are there, and there is beauty in them regardless.
There's actually a bit of text at the end of this book, for reading after you flip through the pictures (isn't pretty much everyone going to look at the pictures before reading anything, anyway?). One essay is written by a poet (it's not Andrew Moore and I don't have the book next to me) who grew up in Detroit. He comments on what once was for the city, and provides commentary on the changes that are happening.
The other section is by Moore, the photographer.
Both are interesting little bits to add to the book, but the photos are the clear starts. There are some stunning and unique images in this book, which would be enjoyed by anyone who enjoys photography of this type.
There is a article in the back of this book by Philip Levine. He remarks, "As we sat in silence, I took in as much of the scene as I could until my eyes were filled with so much seeing I finally had to close them". That would describe this book for me. I am absolutely astounded by the honest and heartbreaking photography. I live a couple of hours from this historical city, and have passed through many times, but I had absolutely no idea that any of this desolation existed. If you are not from Michigan, this book may not mean as much to you, but I feel a deep sense of loss for something I never truly knew. I would love for the photographer to find original pictures of the buildings and match them as a before and after, but that would probably be sadder yet. Another quote by Philip Levine was, "Nothing lasts forever" and the pictures in this book are proof of that. No matter how beautiful or breathtaking something was, it is battling against time and nature until time and nature wins.
This is one of the most moving books that I've ever come across, maybe because I'm from Michigan and more specifically from the 'Detroit area'. Andrew Moore's photographs of decaying, once magnificent buildings in Detroit will break your heart. I remember driving into the city in the early 1970's with my grandmother, who knew the Detroit of the 1940's and 1950's. She shopped at the J.L. Hudson store in downtown Detroit and she remembered the Penobscot & Guardian Buildings when they were at their most beautiful. She remarked that seeing the city, as it fell into blight and decay, was almost more than she could bear.
Although tragic to look at, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the pages. In some of them you can see the former glory of the architecture, and beauty of the lines of these buildings.
Following the photographs, there is a very well written commentary by author, Philip Levine.
An amazing look at the dying parts of a city. Essentially this is archaeology in reverse. Most have never witnessed how life becomes part of the historical record, but this book shows us the future. Detroit, once full of industry and life, is being taken back by Mother Nature. We may think that progress is more powerful than nature, but it isn't. Everything returns to nature and at an alarming rate - we need only look the other way. In one way you want to yell, "Stop! Don't let that beautiful theatre die!" but then you see that there is the most beautiful green moss growing on the floor of a building and think, "Let it go." Truly amazing.
I highly recommend this book to anyone. Andrew Moore, the photographer, also had a layout in the October 2011 National Geographic. You can see his photographs here http://andrewlmoore.com/photography/d...
Beautiful, haunting pictures. I have to say though, I liked James D. Griffioen's pictures of Detroit taken around the same time (or a bit earlier) better. I don't know if it felt like there was a wider variety in Griffioen's subjects or if I just saw them first or what, but Griffioen's photo of a tree growing out of the moldering books in the Detroit Public Schools' Book Depository is awesome and iconic, Moore's is just a tree in growing near a mess of books. Still many wonderful shots and until Griffioen's are published in a book, it's the best book of the decay of modern Detroit that I've seen.
I had had this book on my Amazon wish list for ages. Along comes BuildingsOfDetroit.com on Facebook offering it as a prize. I enter even though I never win anything, and I WON!! AND it came autographed.
Andrew Moore is a photographer who came to shoot pictures of the crumbling places in Detroit, but it's far from being a depressing book. By treating his subjects respectfully, he shows us the beauty which still remains. Detroit is definitely down, but not out of the game yet. She was a great city once and will be again, if her people have anything to say about it.
1) More of Detroit is older than I thought. Some of the images in this book could be taken from any abandoned factory or warehouse anywhere in America, but I was impressed and saddened by scene after scene of beautiful Art Deco ornamentation falling to pieces.
2) Detroit is full of forgotten chairs and desks. I was amazed that no one was scavenging what looked to be functional furniture --- perhaps another indication of how far the city has fallen in such a short time.
As a fan of ruins, decay and post-apocolyptic landscapes I enjoyed these photographs (and the commentary). The photographs are from Detroit and Highland Park. I wish I had more time to explore when I was there - the architecture was beautiful, no matter the state it was in.
There is a pretty amazing Daliesque "melting clock face" photo and so many fascinating 19th century buildings that are beyond restoration (I can pretend someone might take an interest in preservation, right?).
The photographs are awesome -- in the literal sense of the word (not the pop culture meaning). Beautiful images of an ugly reality -- the destruction of our communities through ignorance-fed neglect. The dominant theme of these images is the reversion to a state of nature. Everything is impermanent -- including the American nation.
Amazing pictures of the gradual ruin of Detroit's grand buildings that accompanied the decline of the automobile industry there. A lot of the shots look like they could have been taken in war zones. Thought-provoking and humbling.
Beautiful photographs in their haunting sadness, but one star down because I appreciate it more when the artist seems to know and care about the city rather than lean toward a click-and-run ruin bandit.
This book is excellent! The pictures are really amazing. I wonder if there is a book that highlights the grafitti in Detroit. I would love to see that one. It is quite magnificent all over the city so if you go, check it out. 15-30 feet tall paintings. Yes!
I can't stand how this book was set up. I want the picture caption on the page of the picture, not bunched up with others 3 or 4 pages later. The essays were great but this book was much larger in length and width than necessary.