Georgian Court

Welcome to Georgian Court.

Last week, while photographing a enigmatic stone house, I noticed a "For Rent" sign parked on the lawn of a 50s mod building. Stylin'! Prominently displayed on the brick front is a gorgeous, cheerful script of a logo, emblematic of the kind of "can-do" energy that sparked the post-war Baby Boom, fueled by an economy pumped full of spoils and profits from a war won well. 

Seems very quiet and quite safe.

In an effort to regain some of the normality that was lost during war time, conformity was key. A soldier in enemy territory stands out much more by not blending in, and it was a lesson learned well. After looking at the grounds, I walked up the small hill to a surreal picture of similarity: each and every apartment was exactly the same, and I mean, down to the very last detail. 

It's well-manicured. Each bush is the same.

There are no anomalies of any kind in the small, handkerchief-sized lawns; no wild, weird decorations, no decor at all, actually. Everything had a comforting, bland sameness to it, and that's exactly the point: to be the same, to have the same things, to live the same day over and over again, without any traumas, shocks, or surprises, as a relief to a post-traumatic life. In it's own way, it's a lot scarier than the dark, mysterious house next door, for the sheer effort it makes to present a unified front, like a artificially fake neighborhood in Disneyland, unmarked by any sort of identifying characteristics whatsoever. 

I bet nothing ever really changes around here.

There's a desperate quality in maintaining that kind of approach, which stands out in stark contrast to say, an overblown, badly decorated kitschy style. A slight, warm wind swirled through the leaves that day, as I left the apartment grounds exactly the way it has always been, and will always be, for here on out, until it crumbles to the ground. How's that for a good scare?

Creepy. Nothing moves but the leaves. Where the people at?

Benign Neglect

Diversification and preservation often accompany a purposeful, deliberate kind of neglect. Witness the relatively intact architecture and perfectly preserved cars of Cuba, a nation that was in extreme isolation from us. What would new wealth have done to its iconic architecture? Probably given us one badly done renovation after another. How many beautiful brownstones would we have lost in New York City, if Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant were rich white neighborhoods? 

And so it follows in nature. The front lawn of a certain old house in the historic Hudson Valley has an intact lawn; not the artificial one made with an abundance of pesticides and aggressive weed-pulling, but an incredibly rich and diverse tapestry that holds hundreds of plants, weeds, and wildflowers one doesn't typically see untouched in the suburbs, simply because the current owner does not tend to it with the same kind of care he would to his own lawn. It is often through this kind of neglect that the most beautiful wildflower flourishes. 

Welcome to September, dear readers.