 |
| 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? |
