eikona powiedział(a): What was it. Is it? Regards, Garth.
The last photograph was taken at the entrance to an underground passage next to devastated, yet still alive railway station. This is the same place that was depicted not too long ago in ‘Lucid’. I got a big fancy for ‘almost abandoned’ railway stations, and this one was somewhat special. Although the smell and primitive graffiti didn’t differ this place from any of its kind. There are plenty of forgotten platforms in Poland.
‘Filth’
Darkness under me, over me, behind me. Smell of crap and urine around. Filth of human body and mind.
When the light is gone, you are no longer bound by temporal rules. As the spotlight is broken, you’re no longer an actor in this constant theatre. Nobody expects you to be better, to try harder than before. You’re alone with yourself. No expectations, no true example to look up to. It was so easy to give up years ago, in soviet age of mediocrity. And it still is. When wisdom sleeps, simple instincts take over. That’s exactly what happened here. Will you go down? It’s so easy. Go!
‘Necropolis’
This place was calling me for a very long time. Guess I belong here. When I complete all three gates, we will enter this cemetery where Officers of Red Army lie. I could see them there.
Painful death occurs, when you lived life that didn’t belong to you in first place, even if for a moment. The demons from the gravestones whisper in the ear, hiding their temptations in melody of icy wind. I’m going with them, I’m sorry.
‘Coffin’
Abandoned bird lost wise steel shine. Stained glass forgot its sparkle, resembling dulled eyes of a goner.
I took this photograph when I was a kid. That wasn’t long ago, really. Desecrating a graveyard was my initiation.
After all, it’s not about how much time has passed, but how long the journey was.
‘Ribcage pt.2’
Skeletal construction formed by vertebral column, sternum and ribs. Contains heart and pair of lungs inside, protecting those most vital organs placed in thoracic cavity.
It was interesting experience to shoot in local Market Hall, juxtaposition of vivacity and cold stilness under one roof. Not too many people seem to rememeber about it’s over 100-years long history when running their errands there. It’s utilitarian role completely overshadowed crude beauty of concrete skeleton above our heads. It was very noticeable, as I was treaten as local curiosity when trying to find the right composition. Some folks were making fun, some others came to chat and joke with me. But there were also some very few people who rised their heads high enough to finally see and feel. I was pleased.
‘Ribcage pt.I’
Do you know where we are? It doesn’t really matter, just take a look around. You’re not alone, yet you know that only for you, only for a brief moment this impressive space is empty as if it was for a whole century. Magic happens only inside one’s head. How many times have you missed a silent beauty and unspoken wisdom, keeping your eyes down not to fall when living your life in wanton hurry?
Keep your head up sometimes. You won’t find happiness you’re looking for, but you still might get something of an equal worth.
‘Lucid’
I open my eyes. Oily puddles under my feet. I’m here again, in my dreams. Why out of all possible places is it always railway station? I’m utterly alone. No… it’s rather just a feeling. Loneliness, a chill piercing to the bone.
My coat flutters as trains sail through the trackway. They are all empty. I don’t want to travel by any of them, containing nothing but obscurity inside. I’m waiting for the one and only, so indefinite. When it finally arrives, why won’t stop at my platform? My open hand won’t reach it’s bright surface. Are the doors locked?
I close my eyes again. Darkness wraps around me. I’m home.
‘It’
It doesn’t serve any purpose. It just lies in woods nobody cares about. It’s just a scrap. Worthless. Useless. Decaying in a place it doesn’t belong to. Electricity won’t reach it anymore. Never. Still, why is it working? Why does it emit the radiation that pierces more than just flesh?
Under it’s shadow I read a book.
‘Caution! Danger zone’
My definition of hazard and fear are irreparable. Taking risk will always be important to make any step forward. Even if it might be a step taken on an old minefield. Harm needs to be taken into account if you truly desire to feel the life rushing through your veins.
The act of opening oneself up may be far more thrilling than any kind of jeopardy you can put yourself in.
‘Iron Cage’
Be cautious, the Big Bear is always watching!
Looking through the bars at this harmless creature takes me back in time, when such ‘Bear’ was a very significant symbol and personification of USSR’s domination over my Motherland. This place gives me goosebumps.
spectre-magic asked: I love your photography, and I was curious about the penalties for trespassing in Poland. I assume you have to do quite a bit of that to take your pictures, and I was wondering just how risky it is. Do they treat it as a serious crime, or just write it off?
That’s an interesting question!
The risk depends on the place I break into. Usually it’s a completely safe work. Until now I never had to meet with any police officer during any exploration. But that’s definitely not the biggest risk. Watchdogs are.
There is nothing more instructive how wrong trespassing is than jumping through barbed wire fence, while escaping from two sets of 42 fangs filled with anger.
My actions might only be treaten as a ‘serious’ crime when I enter military property, or facilities owned by ‘influential people’. When those are protected by a guard a little chat or a bribe will be enough. But it will never work with the police!
‘Playground’
I fell in love with this place at first sight. This primary school caught my eye with it’s concrete skin fully covered in extraordinary ‘tottoos’. Colorful murals hide insides unchanged for decades. It’s just like a soviet heritage park where children are trapped into a timeloop filled with grey.
There are no tickets to enter this museum. Just a jump over the rusty fence.
‘Journal’
I somehow adore french. Probably because I don’t understand a damn thing in this language. Well, my fault is I love only something or someone I can’t fully understand. That’s how I subconsciously judge the world around me when I wander with my head down. French made this old rag lying on the dump beneath long left hotel worthy.
This photography once disappeared from this site. Is guess this is a good time…?
