The North Tower by Chipka
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Description
Spring’s assertions are not yet prominent, and so what remains of winter’s chill blows in from the lake. There is a smell in the air: rust and something protean. It is a water smell, a mold smell, the smell of metal and creosote. There are railroad tracks nearby, and an unexpected dry dock crammed with sailboats, their naked masts thrusting skyward.
Sunset is a peach and salmon flourish to the west: and the colors—you know—are the product of industry and smog, car farts and exhalations from power plants that stand along the borders of one highway or another. There are two that you know of: ancient and grimy things, their chimneys like enormous, smoking cigars. You’ve always known of the power plants and have always wondered where the output of their generators goes. What stretches of urban neon and grimy incandescents take their electricity from the enormous block buildings with cigars on top?
Now, in some strange cul-de-sac, you wander in search of the towers that have haunted you for longer than you can remember. You’ve seen the towers from afar, or from the foreign banks of a familiar river. You aren’t far from Chinatown, from Communist-throwback cafeterias where locals eat—safe from the cameras and leering gawks of tourists. You aren’t hungry and so Communist-influenced cuisine is remote in its appeal.
There are bridges here: and the guillotine-towers bordering your favorite span greet you in the flagrant sunset. The bridge towers are as you remember them: dark, rusty, silent. Now, you see them from their narrowed aspect, as the engineers of one train or another might see them, just before crossing the slow, turgid river. You are aware of other bridges as well. All of them stand in the colors of rust and grime, with scrawls of graffiti marking an undying love that has invariably died, or simple declarations that Markus-Antonio walked this way, or that Tommy T. sucks unmentionable parts of the male anatomy for cryptic and perverse reasons. The city, you realize, is rife with such spray-can notations, and though you’ll never meet Markus-Antonio, Tommy T., Antoine, or Julio…you know where they’ve walked, what they’ve sucked, or that women named Anna stole their hearts, then shacked up with some other guy in New Jersey. It’s life in the city: the same old story, and you are immersed in it as you stare—rapt—at the rusty, angled tower of your favorite, ugly bridge.
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As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting.
Comments (24)
jocko500
looking super cool work. love these bridges
Sepiasiren
of your series I do believe I love the industrial stuff the best--this image in particular--gives one almost a feel of vertigo (or at least me) as if looking up at it--great vantage point...
KatesFriend
In some ways this brings to mind the shed exo-skeleton of an arthropod. The city sheds its skin of an old era and leaves it behind to desiccate. But for a time they old shells perch like statues, almost graceful monuments to the animal that once wore it.
danapommet
That is one enormous counter weight up there Chip. Your narrative is outstanding. I can feel the rust and taste all the smells that you are describing. Dana
romanceworks
An interesting monolith and monologue. CC
MrsLubner
Another job of stunning postwork!
zulaan
With you it is always the discovery ! Thank you for sharing this beautiful image
minos_6
There's a wonderful contrast here. The deep blue of the sky belies the mellower sunset colours of the tower and at ground level. Your post work is always subtle, and gratifying. Compelling narrative account too, which helps bring the image and the viewer together.
EBSPhotographic
Dude, your post work is awesome. It really brings a sort of post apocalyptic look and feel; especially on shots like these where it's just a factory of some sort but the lack of visible people makes one feel it's desolate. Very cool stuff.
helanker
WOW! That is a "Loud" Tower. I say Loud, because I feel it is shouting all over the city. This postwork suits it beautifully and makes it shout even louder :-) I love, when you call the chimneys of power plants for gigantic cigars. LOL ! Your way of thinking is still amazing to me.
durleybeachbum
Brilliant writing which made me feel a bit depressed! The same goes for the picture..I think I'm in a green and growing mood today!
Meisiekind
Yet another excellent piece of art and your writing as always hits home! Although I am not in a green and growing mood like Andrea, I do feel that I can face the day today. I agree with Dana - I read your narrative and I smell what you smell, I feel the cold breeze over the lake carrying the strange scent... I'm there! Bravo dear Chip!
flavia49
Love it!!! great image and wonderful grungy colors /mood! your text is magnificent!!
MrsRatbag
Yes, what everyone else said, underlined and capitalized! You are such a brilliant writer...
jac204
Great POV and lighting. Thanks for sharing.
wild_child
Fantastic image!
auntietk
I will never look at graffiti again in the same way. In the past, I've seen it as something shallow, but you make me realize it's like Cliff notes for life. Okay ... perspective changed ... off I go! :) Aside from that little brain slip (which is always a good thing) this picture rocks! Brilliant postwork, my dear, showing off your deft touch.
sandra46
another great industrial landscape, the contrast between the metal tower and the sky is very effective! superb POV!
watapki66
There is something alien about industrial areas and so many of the photos of them, you live in a perfect city to explore such delightful havens of alien places, this is a great example, Wonderfully done!
kgb224
Wonderful capture my friend.
MagikUnicorn
Alway interesting shot with story ;-)
faroutsider
Even these ugly structures have their beauty - or maybe it's just the way we get to see them through your eyes... Excellent!
myrrhluz
I knew when I first saw this image, sitting on my sisters couch, aching feet elevated and eyes slightly bleary, that I would be back to this location. Your images and words of these majestic yet jaded structures are so rich and many layered. They stand tall and unashamedly utilitarian. The rust is an adornment as are the names and lewd suggestions. Graffiti is subjective and dependent on it's location. But the thought of someone else standing where you stand, distant only by time, is mesmerizing. Sometimes, after I read the words left, I feel great gratitude for the distance and may even edge away from the words to make it greater. Other times, if the surface is not too grimy, there is the urge to touch it and form a stronger bond with the writer. I love books that have been written in by previoius readers, allowing me to share a moment with a stranger. Major digression. Your words and image have sent my mind off on a tangent again! This picture and your words form a wonderful experience together. I love your postwork! It adds such drama and sends my eyes on a detail feast. There is a shadow and detail of the shed that looks like a fork. I love the lighting around the tower as if it is emitting an energy field, the tall masts of the ships, the crossing of the railroad sign against that of the towers, and the accent of yellow, the bold yellow of the guardrail,the duller golden yellow of the stripes and curbs, and the softer yellow of the bars in the distance. I really love this image and narrative!
njb2000
This must be the bridge I was looking at on Google Earth!