hilversum


this is going to break slightly with the format of encuentros y caminos as of late, but hopefully it can serve as a prelude to a series of photos that relate to my current sense of dislocation, (de ser un desubicado). after having finish the coursework for my masters in hispanic studies, a series of events (possitive mostly) played out that have resulted in my being in this train from amsterdam airport, through hilversum and finally to amersfoort. in a little under a week i have gone from bowling green, to cincinnati, to boulder and finally to amersfoort, nl with the possibility of heading to vienna on friday.

i name this entry because it was precisely at this station where i realized that for me time had completely lost all point of reference, and an overnight driving trip (with the help of John Parr) killed any foundation that may have remained to understand time. it is nearly 5am where my week started, nearly 3am in the location where i got on the first plane and nearly 11am  here in the netherlands. i managed to get on the wrong train the first time simply because time had lost some meaning, and i stepped on a train that stopped in platform 3, 4 minutes too early.

desubicado

interplaced with other entries, slowly some entries will emerge highlighting photos that (at least for me) evoke a sense of the word mentioned above. the first in this series is a photo that happened upon me as i was driving home from the clifton area in cincinnati about a year ago, just after my premature return from madrid. coming back from madrid to the u.s., especially to cincinnati where i hadn't spent more than a few random days since moving in 2006, had its own sense of dislocation, a certain postmodern fragmentation. looking across from central parkway towards western hills, there was something that seemed hopefully out-of-place.

cincinnati had been the queen city, a river port frequented by riverboats, but it was the commuter rail system that allowed the city to expand, as is the case in the history of many cities. aside from the rail system for commuters, there was also a massive rail system to support cincinnati industry, raw material in and product out. proctor and gamble (among other multi-nationals) have their origins in the mill creek valley leading towards the ohio. in that same valley, an immense intertwining of rail occupies plots and plots of land that reach from the hills of clifton -just to the east of the tracks- to the western hills -aptly named considering its placement on the wrong side of the tracks- that undulate away from the city center. there, in the space between the east and the west, the valley separates the two worlds. in that valley, from one of the few, small patches of green in the concrete and iron mess that mangles the silence between the two hills, the magnolia extends silent and innocent hope. against isolation and sadness, the magnolia blooms with its bright and pungent flowers, strikingly different from the trailers, traincars, concrete and metal that surround it. and differing too, to the matted green of the hills found to the west, smoothered by the oppression of expired opportunity.

even though the tree is surrounded by color, that color is something of the product of modernity, not natural, but rather an industrial transformation of resources that have displaced life from the region where the resource was extracted. the same displacement can be noticed in the area surrounding the lone magnolia; the hills on each side are covered in the green trees while in the valley, almost all of the plant life is absent. behind the rail yard there is a line of vacant buildings, another residue of previous life. most of these buildings are deserted factory buildings that no longer offer a path to middle class for labor workers, other buildings are abandoned residences, with apartments above small, independent shops. 

the dark pipe that occupies the left half of the photo also carries something away from the view of the observer, or simply away from the observer. what it removes from one side, it brings to the other, and with the menacing presence of the pipeline, whatever it brings cannot be something possitive.

all the horizons -the industrial and the natural: the line of the massive pipe, the rail cars, the industrial buildings, the fog-covered green hills, and the clouded sky- appear to come to a point toward the left edge of the photograph, somewhere in the working class neighborhood that lays to the west of the rail yard. all of these seem to either find their origin or rest in the neighborhood previously of the employees of the surrounding industry. the employees, a working middle class, seem to have been displaced by the fall of local manufacturing. the only object in the photo that mantains its place, is the only that seems to be out of place, desubicado: the magnolia. its beauty and life is the only that remains in a declining area of the city that was once vibrant and the center of an energy that fed the growth of a city. the magnolia is out of place, but in its displacement offers a sense of hope: to bloom in a place and a time all its own.