I began noticing water towers a lot after I discovered the work of Bernd and Hilla Becher, masters of photographing typologies and industrial forms. Water towers are one of the most ubiquitous structures one sees in a city. They are not toxic, or dangerous, or even ugly. They primarily serve as temporary water storage tanks for water suppliers and departments during specific times of the day and help to address peak demand needs at hours when residents bath, flush, and use water. I noticed these towers on a bike ride through Northeast Portland this month (October). Many communities choose to paint them and brand them with the names of the city or a local football team, and it is almost always football teams. (Click on each photo to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
Photography
Met some wet-nosed friends this weekend
I attended the Vancouver Kennel Club dog show on Oct. 25, 2014, and I had a great time. The show was held at the Clark County Fairgrounds, which meant a lot of space and a lot of laid back dogs. The owners were super accommodating for me taking candid photos. Here are a few shots. Hopefully I can publish a few more. You cannot go wrong seeing a dog show. Period. (Click on each photograph to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
A day at the bridges, Portland style
Portland, Ore., has been dubbed many things, including bridge town. Here are two of the most distinct ones: St John’s Bridge (1931) and the Fremont Bridge (1973). The former dates from the Depression, when public works projects had a sense of artistry. The latter was built to serve one purpose–carry cars over Willamette River on Interstate 405 as efficiently as possible. More bridges are to come. (Click on each photograph to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
Barrel yard, near the Willamette River
I passed by this storage yard several times on my bike, along Highway 30, which is the main arterial serving the many industries that line the Willamette River in north Portland. Barrels are normally used for storing and transporting chemicals, but I had no idea what these were used for. I found similar barrel yards in Seattle along the industrial Duwamish waterway, in Seattle. (Click on the photograph to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
Development along Portland’s Willamette waterfront
Downtown Portland, Ore., has seen a boom in high-density development turning industrial land into high-rise apartments and condos. This has taken place in large areas along the Willamette River, including near the Fremont Bridge, in what Portland calls Chinatown. I took these photos on Oct. 19, and was struck by the prevalance of homeless camps very close to these projects, including the one that is seen in the photograph of campers and vehicles that double as people’s shelters. The Portland area is expecting nearly 725,000 new residents in the next 20 years, which pales in comparison to what African cities like Lagos and Chinese cities like Shenzen have seen and will see. (Click on each photograph to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
Cement kiln, southeast Portland
The Lehigh Northwest Cement Co. is located near the large railroad yard in the industrial area of southeast Portland. I always have liked living near railroad yards. They are reminders of what keeps our country’s economic engine moving, and cement producers are always likely neighbors. To me they are strong icons of our industrial economy and fall into the category of photography I embrace focussing on industrial typologies. (Click on the photograph to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
The Montgomery Ward Building, a Portland landmark
When it opened in 1920, the Montgomery Ward Building was the largest commercial structure in Portland, Ore. It was sold in 1984 and then upgraded with a new glass atrium. The box-like structure sits atop a high plateau overlooking the city’s still industrial properties in northwest Portland, at the base of the affluent mansions that dot the hillside to the west. It is a prominent landmark that can be seen for miles in many directions, and for me is a beacon to the “old Portland” I fell in love with when I first moved here in 1983. This was before the city became a microbeer-brewing, bike-friendly, hipster, green-energy, whatever-you-want-to-call-it kind of city that absolutely fascinates sometimes naive out-of-town reporters, who are oblivious to thousands of homeless residents living on the streets or in makeshift and transitional housing. Meanwhile, the giant white box still stands proud, weathering the changes just fine. (Click on each photo to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
St. Mary’s Cathedral in Portland
Within about five blocks of each other, one can find three of the most exquisitely designed and built religious structures in Portland: the Catholic St. Mary’s Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Temple Beth Israel, and Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. St. Mary’s is designed in Romanesque Revival style, similar to churches I have seen in Italy, but also in the United States duplicating those in the Old World. The complex has a large courtyard and ancillary facilities attached. If you are in Northwest Portland, take a stroll to 17th and NW Davis, and you’ll find a beautiful complex taking over a city block.
I shot this photograph with a GoPro camera. To see a larger photograph, click on the picture to open a separate picture page.
Portland’s Holy Trinity Orthodox Church
Last weekend I did a photo tour of neighborhoods in Portland, with an eye for finding aesthetically interesting homes, buildings, and churches. I stumbled on Holy Trinity Orthodox Church, serving the Greek Orthodox community. I of course stopped immediately when I saw it and took a few portraits. During my visit, I met Sofia, a native of Athens, and we had a lively discussion of the Hagia Sofia chruch in Istanbul and life in America. It is very fun to get to know who lives in your community, and churches can be a great place to meet people on their “home turf.” (Click on the photograph to see a larger picture on a separate picture page.)
Grave of Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce
The story behind this photograph is a long one. It involves ownership and secrets, legacies and histories. Who has the right to tell this story? Who has the right to publish this photograph? Is Chief Joseph‘s legacy only safeguarded by his people, or a larger circle who care about his people’s story of leadership, exile, pain, loss, and conquest? I do not have the answer.
Chief Joseph was born in what today is the Wallowa Valley of Oregon. He and other Nez Perce warriors led his band of just 700 men, women, and children on a 1,400-mile march that even received taciturn praise from their military pursuers seeking to place them in reservations. The group held off more than 2,000 U.S. soldiers and Indian auxiliaries in four battles and numerous skirmishes, before surrendering in 1877. His speech at his band’s surrender is among the most famous of all made by Native American leaders in response to their subjugation by the young United States and its people:
I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead. Toohoolhoolzote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say, “Yes” or “No.” He who led the young men [Olikut] is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are — perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever.
The Nez Perce were relocated and broken. Half, including Joseph, were taken to a non-Nez Perce reservation in central Washington, becoming one of the bands of the Confederated Colville Tribes. Today the area is known as the Colville Reservation, where I shot this photograph in August 2014 when passing through. I found his final resting grounds to be a serene place.