Last year I spent some time in neighborhoods in Rio de Janeiro that could be described as depressed. Because of government incentives to clean up the criminal activity in these neighborhood (favelas in Brazilian Portuguese), their internal landscape is slowly changing. Will the change be good or bad for the people of the favelas? Personally I don't know. Getting rid of the criminal gangs here is obviously a step in the right direction, but there is a social vacuum created by the elimination of the current power structure there. It is clearly a social experiment work in progress.

The slide show below is a compilation of images I took over a month last year when working on a project in the favela and a neighborhood just outside of one. The music is Tom Waits' Talking at the Same Time. The full size image slides can be found here: http://www.borrowedlightphotography.com/Art-and-Photo-Stories/The-Neighborhood/21178945_SqQdSq

Tropical Heat

Tropical climates have weird and wonderful light. That weirdness, combined with a relentless heat, tends to translate

into the wonderfully vibrant colors typically used on everything from shirts to signs. On a recent trip to Mexico, I was impressed by the use of color on buildings,

especially the small workaday ones like corner bars and restaurants. The strong colors and light inspired me to create this series of photographs celebrating color and heat.

Or maybe it was just the tequila.

Arcosanti

In 2007 I made what was, for me, a pilgrimage to place I had studied years ago in architecture school: Arcosanti. One of my professors had been spent a few months working there in the late '60's



and he had told us about the rise of a theoretical city in and of the desert; a place that was a mind meld of architecture and ecology.

Paolo Soleri first envisioned Arcosanti in the late 40's or early 50's. The idea of arcology (architecture+ecology) was born in the heyday of mid 20th century urban sprawl. If you are not familiar with Paolo Soleri's ideas, a good source of information is arcology.com. My overly simplified short version (at least as I understand it) is that Soleri's idea of the city is based in creating extremely dense urban environments, called arcologies, through a complex miniaturization of



infrastructure that would necessarily include both passive and active systems. This results in a city that, theoretically, requires only about 2% of the land area of traditional cities of similar population. This frees vast amounts of land to either remain in its natural state or be cultivated to feed the urban population.

A great theory, but difficult to apply in a practical way given our then and now technologies. Even though there have been tremendous technological advancements in the past 50 years, advances that would seem to help move arcologies from theory to practice, not all apply. For example, advances in wind power generation may not be what Soleri had in mind because of the sizable land area required to generate meaningful amounts of power. However many of the advances in solar energy technology have been in the miniaturization and increased efficiencies of collection devices that would seen to align with the theories of arcologies.

Even more important than the technology, however, is the need for the urban form to be organic, sensitive to nature and in tune with the cycle of the sun and seasons



to afford maximum efficiencies that such densities require. Without the proper orientation to nature and artful manipulation of form and space an arcology would be all but impossible.



At any rate, it's better to read what Soleri himself says at arcology.com.

The photographs here represent what I saw in December of 2007 at Arcosanti. I was impressed by the theory and that people could actually pull off a practical demonstration of such a complex theory. Arcosanti is a real place where people live, make things, build, socialize and they have done so for decades. It seems sustainable, but clearly there is much work to do. I'm looking forward to visiting again to see how both theory and place continue to evolve.

Panis Angelicus: The Bread of Angels

Driving slowly down the one lane road, trees towering all round and dappled light filtering through my windshield, I can just see the clearing ahead. Buried deep in the hardwood forest we find the place, not a hermit’s tattered house, but a cheery sunlit little place with an “open” sign. Park the car in the tree bark and stroll out of the dark woods into the light by the bell tower. Through the front door we are welcomed by Jan and Anna into an unexpectedly quiet world of musical form.
There’s not so much of a sound in here, just the sensual curves
and rich dark wood colors of stringed instruments hanging from above, suspended in rows like notes from a little etude.

We walk into the workshop where these artisans create and repair their instruments.
Tools are scattered all around, an orderly clutter necessary for their craft. Luthiers are special people; they feel the wood and string and they carve. They mold and shape the everyday things we can touch and smell into instruments of unparalleled joy. They practice an art that allows art.


Outside, leaves are blown by the breeze and the light filters softly through dusty workshop windows creating gentle rhythms within. We wander, we touch and we listen. Jan will only let us try those instruments
he has played recently. According to him, the others have a sound that is too lonely and neglected; there is not enough time to pay proper attention to each in a day, or even a week. One child is drawn to an instrument and reaches for it. The selection is made and the music prepared.
The first sweet notes rise from the strings and we are rewarded by an innocent, joyful and satisfied smile.

The Bells of Cosanti

Paolo Soleri’s bells are part of a design theory that runs the scale from art object to megastructure. I have a half dozen of these beautifully crafted objects
that bring joy not only from their sound, but also from their place in a scheme of urbanism that foretold the value of density and conservation during the mid 20th century, a time when just the opposite was in vogue.
The bells, like the city of Arcosanti are organic in design, each seemingly dwelling within the other.

Visiting Cosanti is very much like tripping back to a desert commune of the ‘60’s.

It’s an intriguing place caught in time. The bells are cast each morning and the sand molds are broken in the afternoon.
If you are in the Phoneix, Arizona area, it’s worth a trip to both Cosanti the foundry, and Arcosanti the urban experiment.

Urban Fragments

URBAN FRAGMENTS and the CYCLE OF CITIES





Fragments of decay of the urban environment are intriguing bits of evidence of city life. Sometimes it’s a wall; skin peeling like a swimmer’s the day after a bad burn.

Sometimes it’s an orphaned element of space or structure,
lonely, abandoned, and lacking a functional purpose.


Often artful and seldom boring, these fragments of decay tell, if we pay attention, stories of long vanished places and events,

those things that make up the soul of a city. They are pieces within pieces within pieces that spiral inward and outward, telling the tales of a dynamic city life.

We live in cities and they dwell within us.

All too often we use them up leaving behind the fragments of a society outdated.


But, as fast as we use them up, we create new trends, new spaces, new structures, new stories and ultimately, new places. We resurrect the urbs from the places we only recently laid to waste,

accepting and rejecting their history as it suits our purpose. We build them, fragment by fragment, incomprehensible and incoherent pieces joined one to another until, suddenly, they begin to make some sort of intuitive sense. We delight in their creation, play with them and in them a while until we become bored and leave them to decay and fragment again until, one day, the urge to create strikes hot and bright once again.

This is the cycle of the living city.

Boats of Brazil

Boats seem to have a special relationship with their owners, their partners. Their reality reflects the lives of their people. I love boats. Not so much the big, sleek cruisers harbored in marinas that live bloated and pampered in a protected and unreal world apart. I love the blue collar, the scarred and leaky working boats that are held together with nail, rope, glue and hope. I love the boats looking for a better day.





I've been interested in the boats of Brazil for a long time, especially the utilitarian working boats that take on the character of their owners and partners. These boats become characters unto themselves. Their skin is cracked and lumpy, a few bones are bent and creaky, and they aren't quite as fast as they once may have been, but they have a grace and dignity that is difficult to precisely define. They seem wiser in the ways of the waters, or at least the survivors do.

The boats of Brazil I’ve paid the most attention to in the past were the small quick boats of the Amazon. Mostly handmade, but some a little larger and made to navigate the long distance runs of an ever changing and dangerously beautiful river world. They made their lives darting from shadow to light, moving people, catching food and living off the great surreal environment of the Amazon. To survive they must be ever vigilant and at peace with their world. But when I was in Brazil recently, mostly near the Atlantic coast city of Porto Seguro, I met a subtley different boat. Working boats yes, but these more lighthearted. These are boats that enjoy the sun and watch the ocean when they’re not at work. They sway gently at their tethers rocking to a sweet samba rhythm, waiting for the sunset.




Brazil is, for me, the perfect place to see how boats are inextricably tied to the lives of their people. These boats say a lot about their partners, especially when their owners live in a place where boats are their home, their living, their life. These are a few of the boats made for living that life.

To see more of the boats of coastal Brazil and the Amazon River, click on either of the photos here.