The city’s backstage

Cities are inherently complex weavings, sponges for swarms of energetic routines. Ticking, sparking in the reassuring dissonance of mechanic rhythm. To some, it is an alienating cluster of social degeneration and to others a providential and handy distraction from life. But in the unpredictable glint of headlights, any citizen is blinded as to the intricate mechanics, the buried organs that orchestrate this frenetic spectacle. Indeed a keen observer should easily devise that such fantastical, grandiose, psychedelic theater can’t be sustained without an equally impressive backstage. Full of ropes and pulleys, catwalks, and shops working hard but waiting peacefully. For some time now I’ve strived for a deeper understanding of what is hidden beyond the concrete, beyond the light, where space is but people are not. And there is so much more to see than what is seen. Finding ignored passages, shining my torch where dust has settled, I am endlessly amazed by how blind I am. Underneath the crust of bleached life, I slowly uncover jungles of pipes, cables, tunnels, and canals in an overlay of forgotten networks. As I sought to explore and document these unseen layers I come across life, some endemic and some seeking quiet peace. I come across lost souls and legends, artworks, and dead ends. As my hours are spent searching and my steps take me deeper I can’t help myself from speculating on the very construction of the ground I stand upon and what lies further and deeper in the darkness.