Looked at one way Site B is shrinking, but, if you were the property developer who owns it, and having cleared away a factory and built a hundred houses on it over the last two years, it's growing. People have already moved in to many of those homes, made their lives there. So I'm being slowly squeezed either into a deep excavation (by its nature out of sight) or staying close to the fence. So far I haven't found a Site C which fits the pre-requisite profile - former factory making way for new homes.
As for taking pictures of vegetation, I did this a couple of times before as part of this thing that I do. Once at A recording the details of a temporary man-made hill of earth and rubble which was wildly reverting to some kind of 'natural' state, before being bulldozed away. And two years later, again at A, photos of the brand new houses viewed obliquely through the trees on the outside.
Both A and B are brownfield sites, where factories disappeared and residential development took their place, the tail end of de-industrialisation, and synonymous, for me, with a kind of de-masculisation. Some structures that once would have felt like they would last forever, are gone, like they never even existed.
We exist within various kinds of constructed spaces, both physical and psychological. They largely define who we are, phenomenologically speaking (thanks, Richard Ansett).
Around one side of site B is a long over-grown embankment, a legacy from the foundry days, presumably there to contain industrial noise I imagine. It is now sandwiched between the old outer metal security fence and a long inner line of black weatherproof fabric nailed to low wooden posts. While everything around it has been subject to demolition or re-construction it has been over-looked, so far. At the moment, for me anyway, it seems to embody an indeterminate state, of temporary no-thingness.
As for taking pictures of vegetation, I did this a couple of times before as part of this thing that I do. Once at A recording the details of a temporary man-made hill of earth and rubble which was wildly reverting to some kind of 'natural' state, before being bulldozed away. And two years later, again at A, photos of the brand new houses viewed obliquely through the trees on the outside.
Both A and B are brownfield sites, where factories disappeared and residential development took their place, the tail end of de-industrialisation, and synonymous, for me, with a kind of de-masculisation. Some structures that once would have felt like they would last forever, are gone, like they never even existed.
We exist within various kinds of constructed spaces, both physical and psychological. They largely define who we are, phenomenologically speaking (thanks, Richard Ansett).
Around one side of site B is a long over-grown embankment, a legacy from the foundry days, presumably there to contain industrial noise I imagine. It is now sandwiched between the old outer metal security fence and a long inner line of black weatherproof fabric nailed to low wooden posts. While everything around it has been subject to demolition or re-construction it has been over-looked, so far. At the moment, for me anyway, it seems to embody an indeterminate state, of temporary no-thingness.