Netspace Lookout: Lost America
20th May 2000 - 20th March 2003
Review: Lost America
Lost America: Night Photography of Mohave Desert ghost towns.
Lost America is a collection of some of the most hauntingly beautiful night photography you will see for a long time.
The personal project of American Designer, Troy Paiva, Lost America is perhaps one of the most comprehensive, and awe inspiring photographic projects around. It has developed an enormous world-wide audience, just by word of mouth, which is easy to see as they are images that inspire. Most photographers will readily admit to having shot a number of night exposures, and even to having particular subjects that draw their eye. Few have dedicated themselves to one subject matter, one shooting environment, with such dedication.
A long term cataloguing of ghost towns and cul de sacs abandoned since the fifties and beyond, these remote desert locations are brought back to life by Troy's astounding use of coloured lights, fine grain film, and enduring patience. So vivid are Troy's images that you can almost hear the clatter of the wild west bars, the schmaltz of the casinos, or the squeal of hotrods dragging on the abandoned roadways. It is a history lesson in images.
Densely saturated and utterly compelling in their composition, I found a curious similarity to the brooding imagery of “Paris, Texas”, and the tumbleweed backwater towns that pockmark the Mojave desert.
Troy's work isn't simply limited to night photography either. If you've had children (of both the junior and senior variety) in the past decade or more, there's a fair chance you will have come into contact with his work, via the Micro-machines toy line. His love and obsession for both digital and analogous creative outlets is evident in both the rich images of Lost America, and the complex 3D landscapes produced in his companion site, the Design Shed.
Interview with Troy Paiva
creator of Lost America
Your background is primarily in a non-web environment, what was it that prompted you to begin working with digital media?
It was the next logical progression from traditional media. Doing computer art in the late 90's was like picking up photography in 1870. It's exciting to be a part of that new and uncharted territory. Everyone is on an equal footing again. I've always been the kind of guy that is very methodical and organized and those traits are very useful in digital art, so that eased the transition for me too. Also after years of painting with an airbrush in the paint booth everyday, breathing fumes and dribbling lacquer paint on every shirt and pair of shoes I own it was sure nice to be able to stay clean and healthy. You can't “Undo” with an air brush either! For good or bad, I haven't picked up a paintbrush in 5 years.
In relation to being able to undo mistakes/re-compose an image, do you think that is a positive or negative thing, in the sense that it can lead to a situation where digital artists become obsessive about realising a perfect vision, without taking into account the more organic nature of self expression?
Yeah, good point. This organic sensibility is missing in most digital art. When working in a painterly program like Photoshop or Painter, don't be so quick to undo stuff that you might see as mistakes. Instead absorb the mistake into the next set of brush strokes like you would in a real painting. The instructor I had in painter never used undo and reprimanded us if she caught us using it. In many other programs, like in 3D modelling or web design, mistakes are of a more technical and numerical or code type, and need to be corrected for the finished piece to function. Get this organicness in your preliminary design work when you're still sketching and roughing things out.
How did you find the transition from the offline world of design to online—in terms of the generation gap? Do you think coming to the digital design field with a degree of life experience behind you gave you a unique perspective/approach over those who have yet to really cut their teeth in design?
Can't teach an old dog new tricks, eh? That's probably true for many designers and artists older than me (I'm 40), but if you keep an open mind (which is what artists should be doing about everything anyway) you should be able to embrace any new way to express yourself. For me, I don't really see a generation gap. I was glad to make the transition because the computer plays into my strengths, not my weaknesses as an artist.
There is no substitute for real world experience. Knowing how to write code does not make you a designer. A quality designer has to know what's good and appropriate instinctively. The onlyway to develop this instinct is to practice and study. At the same time, in this business, it really doesn't matter how good you are or how stylish your work is. It's about making the deadlines and knowing how to please the client when THEY don't even know what will please them.
Your personal sites aside, do you find particular types of design or creative work more satisfying? Are these online or offline?
I love doing all kinds of creative work. Ideally, on more blue sky types of projects. I have the most fun when a client gives me carte blanche to just make something cool. I wish it happened more often. I also am always trying to do personal projects whether it's night photography or 3D modelling.
A large component of your 3D modelling looks forward in subject matter, to rendering fantasised landscapes, characters and environments. Why is it, do you think, that most 3D modelling dwells in the abstract/futuristic realm, rather than attempting to blur the lines between images of say, contemporary society and virtual reality—what are your motives for pursuing this line?
Most hardcore computer users are sci-fi-geek-fans that are obsessed with technology and futurism. The two go hand in hand. It seems logical that these fans are going to create work that is close to their hearts. Most artists that like flowers and trees are going to paint them in traditional media on an easel in a field rather than sit in front of a buzzing monitor in a dark room drinking Cokes and eating pizza. This isn't 100% true, but I bet it's pretty close.
For me personally, it's partly the above and also that when I was a kid in the early 60's, there was a whole future promised to us that didn't happen for a whole myriad of reasons. We're supposed to be honeymooning on Mars and having robot servants by now, aren't we? I've always been obsessed by this innocent atomic age optimism. It's fairly common among my generation. The resurgence of this whole design ethic today only proves this theory out.
What was it that attracted you to photography, and night photography in particular?
Back in 1989 when I started doing night photography I was working in a large design department drawing and painting 8 hours a day. The large amount of arbitrary art direction and small amount of personal creative input was crushing my spirit. I had always done artwork as a way to do creative stuff before that time and doing it for a living took all the energy out of me to do it at home for fun too. I was desperate for some new way of making art that was totally separate from my job.
My brother was going to art school at the time, studying photography. He took a class in night photography and when I saw his work I found it fascinating. He snuck me into a few lectures and a few of the outdoor night shooting labs. The instructor touched briefly on the painting with light idea and I was just totally blown away. My mind exploded with the possibilities. I immediately bought some inexpensive photo gear (my first 35mm SLR camera) and started experimenting at night with the camera and various light sources. It quickly became my way of making art where I had total control and didn't have to answer to anyone.
It's interesting that you mention creative control—why is it, do you think, that so many designers/artists/photographers etc crave a personal space when they are working in a creative department? Why is it that they don't find the same sense of fulfilment in commercial work, as they are, after all, still contributing large elements of themselves and their personality to that work?
Most artists don't get total fulfilment from commercial work because, even if the client says “Do whatever you want”, you still have a set of parameters that you have to work with. In product design you still have to make the object able to be manufactured at an affordable cost. In logo design you still have to take into consideration the name and function of the company. The commercial artist will always have parameters that he has to work in.
Doing your personal work is much more rewarding, especially if it's the kind of stuff where you have no idea of what the finished piece is going to be before you begin. The most rewarding art experiences for me have always been the ones where you shut the mind down and it just flows from your hands. If you ask a piano player to analyse where each note lies, they can't play, but if you just let them play without thinking about it, the music just flows naturally and that's when the magic happens. Same thing applies to visual artists.
Your photographic subject matter revolves almost entirely around themes of past eras in America's history—what is it about these subjects that attracts your eye?
Ever since I was in my early teens, I've been going on road trips with my friends out into the desert. We would drive 24 hours a day in shifts all over the desert west. I used to love the late night driving stints. We'd blow into these little dusty desert towns, sometimes completely abandoned and just park and explore for a while. As I got older, my friends stopped going on these trips and I continued on alone, obsessed with the majesty and mystery of the American desert. Over time it became clear to me that these places I was stopping at were disappearing very fast. Sometimes whole towns would just disappear between trips! I began to do research in the mid 80's and was surprised to find that there was really no record being kept of the demise of these 20th century ghosts. Sure, plenty on the wild west mining ghost towns, but nothing on the abandoned drive ins, motels and gas stations peppering the desert. Since the 80's there have been hundreds of books on the subject, but nothing even remotely like what I'm doing. I took recording this stuff on film as a personal mission.
When I learned night photography, I became obsessed with the idea of chronicling these places using these photographic techniques. It just seemed perfect to me. Like I'm bringing these places back to life or I'm summoning ghosts. There is just no way to describe the way your soul stirs when you're sitting in an abandoned drive in theatre or junkyard for several hours in the middle of the night, not a soul around for miles. I feel like I'm the last man on earth. It makes you feel truly alive.
Much has been made about the images of Lost America being something of an epitaph to an era of excess—would you agree with this interpretation?
It depends on where you're coming from. Some younger people have that reaction. Others though, feel that it's like a love letter to a dear old friend that has passed away. A tribute to the glory days rather than an epitaph of excess.
America is still a land of excess. It always will be. It's part of the American psyche.
A favourite element in your photographic work is the use of filtered spot lighting, is there a specific reason for your regular use of this over say, other colours/unfiltered light/ no light at all?
Actually, I use many different types of light and many of the images use no added light other than moonlight. In most cases, the shadows of the image would be too deep to see any detail. It would just be a mostly black frame so I use the lighting as a way of filling in these shadows. It's evolved from that into controlling the atmosphere of the location. I love being able to control the mood of the scene purely by the light I use. Foreground red light conveys a completely different emotion than blue back lighting does.
The lighting brings something different for everyone. Some say it brings the places back to life, others say it's a juxtaposition of the dead world with a carnival circus atmosphere, like we're thumbing our noses at the inevitable death and decay. I love that everyone has a different opinion and the last thing I would do is to say it's one specific thing when it's really anything the viewer wants it to be. For me, it's all those things rolled into a big shiny ball! That's why I love doing it so much.