Farewell to Admiral's Row

The demolition of Admiral's Row, which was looming for years, has finally begun. Construction walls have been built around the fence.

Totally off topic; the light on that manhole cover was really pretty.

There are portholes in the wall to watch the progress, but of course the weeds have grown right up against them.

Some of the plexiglass has broken and the weeds have grown out, spreading up the wall.

Others have climbed over the top.

Through one of the broken portholes, I could catch a glimpse of the old ruins.

I have resigned myself to the disappearance of my favorite example of nature taking the city. I just hope that when the developer's are building their big new shopping center, that they leave a few trees in the parking lot, to provide a little shade and a faint memory of the weed jungle that was there before.

Admiral's Row Is Still Standing

Things have been a little crazy which is why I haven't been posting. There has been a slew of dentists, the computers have been in rebellion. I do not know if there is a relation beyond the fact that  both obstacles to my artwork. After a recent skirmish with the new printer, I went out to see if the demolition of Admiral's Row had begun.

The buildings are still there, but the weeds have moved in creating a small forest.

If they wait long enough, the weeds will do the demolition for them. I have almost finished with the dentists, soon I hope to have the computers mollified and I can get back to work.

A Last Look at Admiral's Row?

Back in February, I heard the announced demolition of the Admiral's Row. It was not unexpected, people had been speaking of it for years. Life was hectic and I did not pay attention. The other day, I passed the Navy Yard and realized that the buildings had not yet been torn down. Apparently, the two buildings that will be saved are being shored up.

I went back to photograph the buildings for what might be the last time.
 

There were some daffodils.
 

Some of the walls had been torn away, exposing hints of the interiors.

What is left of the roofs is totally collapsing.
 

With my beloved weeds dormant for the winter, the emptiness becomes apparent.
 

For once I could appreciate the old buildings that were quietly disintegrating.

The End for Admiral's Row

About two weeks ago the city made an deal to build a ShopRite on the site of Admiral's Row.  All the buildings will be demolished except for two, and one of those might be impossible to save.

It came as no surprise, there has been talk of building a supermarket for years.  The houses have been collapsing.

I am sad all the same, not for the buildings. Well, I am a little sad that the buildings were allowed to decay.

Still I enjoy their ruin, entropy is one of my favorite things.

I am grieving the soon to be lost wildness.

One need only to look at the plans to see that there will be no weeds overrunning the parking lot.

So much of the city is being tamed.  Soon I may have to head for the suburbs to find my beloved weeds and ruin.

If a Building Falls in a Forest...

The past two months have been rainy, especially June. One of the buildings on Admiral's Row collapsed last week, now doubt saturated by the near daily onslaught of precipitation. I had made some pictures of Admiral's Row two years ago, so I wanted to see how it changed.


The weeds have benefited from the rains even if the buildings haven't (another building collapsed on Myrtle Avenue that was not as decrepit).

They wrapped around the fence creating an impenetrable wall.

They were thinner near the ruins.


But in other places they were so thick, I could barely make out the roof tops of the other buildings.

The damp air smelled like green and dirt. I realized that I didn't care if the buildings crumbled into dust. But should the powers that be succeed in building a supermarket here, I will miss the weed forest a great deal.

Nature takes back the city

Officers Row, Brooklyn Navy Yard

When I ride my bicycle out to the Manhattan Bridge, I like to slow down by the part of the Navy Yard where the Officers Row falls in ruins. I marvel at how quickly the trees and vines obscured the buildings which are rapidly crumbling.



I confess that I have a soft spot for entropy. Things fall apart, rust never sleeps, everything turns to dust, and I love to observe the process. Part of my grumpiness about the current wave of new buildings in New York is that everything is so clean and shiny. There is no discovery of beauty in the decay.




While I contemplate the overgrowth, my imagination is sparked. If some apocalyptic event emptied New York of the majority of its inhabitants, how long would it take nature to reclaim the terrain? The Officers Row is just a half dozen Victorian houses, still there are spots where it is difficult to perceive the buildings through the green.



As I ride past, the green plant smells wafting over the diesel fumes of the truck route, I imagine midtown Manhattan after a twenty-five year absence of humans. I see the office plants run wild, covering the sky scrapers. The streets littered with the glass of broken windows, the Chrysler building overrun with vines. How long before Central Park would move south? The asphalt would be broken by tree roots and weather. I can imagine Fifth Avenue looking like a bleached country road, with weeds sprouting up through the cracks right next to where Tiffany's should be.

I felt a mixture of sadness and desire as I took the pictures. Limited by the fence, I longed to go past the greenery and explore the disintegrating structures. Through some windows I could see the sky, but I couldn't get the angle to photograph it. I really wanted to get closer to this


The black vines against the white wall, the arched doorway, if only I could get closer.

The sadness overwhelmed me. It was not just for the faded buildings. Soon this wonderful mayhem will be razed and replaced by something fresh and new. The anarchy will be restrained and turned into luxury housing or a box store, who knows what. I accept that development must happen, but I will miss this place once it is gone. And I fear it will not last for much longer.