Took an unsuccessful trip out to the Dells earlier this week as part of my long-term project, Strange Landscapes. I drove around for a long while and the photo above ended up being the only shot I took during the hour or so I was there. The sky was that steely, early Wisconsin spring grey; I kept looking at it through my office window all day thinking it was going to make a perfect backdrop for my photo excursion. But when I got there I drove around without inspiration, and the light faded, and I left.
I think a cloud was hanging over me while I was there. I kept thinking about the body that was pulled from the river a couple weeks ago. I'm sure it was not the first and unfortunately not the last. The body had yet to be identified and as I was driving around, I kept wondering how long it must have been in the water for it to have become so hard to recognize. A gloom settled over me, and it made it difficult to be receptive to inspiration, no matter how hard I thought I was looking.
Structural things in the Dells don't really change. I still knew my way around even though it had been a year or so since I'd spent any time there. Most of the time the roads won't move on you. What struck me was how different things on either side of the road looked wherever I went. Several scenes I photographed just last year were no longer there, such as Storybook Gardens (the no trespassing signs are still there but the rest is just a scorched piece of earth) and Riverview Park (surrounded by a fake castle wall, I have heard this is set to become some kind of zoo). The Dells is constantly changing, resetting the stage for the next show, and who can say whether this is a good or bad thing.
I've never eaten at Paul Bunyan's though I've heard a lot about it and known several people who've worked there at one time or another. I turned onto Highway 13 from Cty H and was immediately assailed by several signs encouraging me to "Turn Here! Turn Here! Turn Here!" so I did. To the left was a lot for tour buses; directly ahead was an overgrown mini-golf course and to the right was Paul Bunyan himself, accompanied by a sign that urged me to fill out a job application. The acres of parking lot were completely empty except for me and Paul. I snapped a few quick photos and left.
There are a little more than two months now before the tourist season starts. With daylight saving, I will soon have more daylight to work with so we'll see what happens.
Showing posts with label Strange Landscapes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Strange Landscapes. Show all posts
3.09.2012
5.28.2011
Storybook Burn
Taken at Storybook Gardens, Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin, May 2011.
This may be one of the last photos ever taken of this place. I read last week that it was not going to reopen this summer after nearly 60 years in business. I read today that the owners actually plan to burn it down as part of a practice exercise for the Delton Fire Department.
I visited last Monday after a short meeting. I figured I had about 20 minutes or so between getting gas, driving to the Dells, and sunset. I consider myself lucky to have gotten one good shot in that short time of this doomed place, boat boarded up, grass overgrown. There were several of these signs in front of the former entrance, warning rubberneckers to "keep out." The parking lot was deserted when I pulled up, not a soul in sight.
In the article I linked to above, Jason Fields explains that kids don't know about the storybook characters anymore, and I can understand that point of view. Storybook Gardens is part of the old Dells, the rollercoasterless Dells absent of waterparks and upside-down White Houses. I know we visited Storybook Gardens when I was little, although I only have vague memories of the place. I was more saddened to hear that Riverview Park was being torn down to make way for the Timbavati wildlife park. The phrase "aging waterpark" reminds me of the "litter of our times" Steinbeck was talking about, all that cheap and forgotten plastic.
However, when I read that the owners and the DFD planned to burn down the ship at Storybook Gardens, something didn't sit right with me. The mental image of flames licking the blue sky from that faded fake boat, boarded up and overgrown, making way for more cheap and plastic "zorbing," whatever that is. The comments in the article above rue the demise of the place, but they must know that in the whole history of the Dells, nothing has been sacred there for over 150 years. Attractions are burned down, people are shipped in and out, and the city sprawls and sprawls, those strange and artificial landscapes leeching into newer territories.
This may be one of the last photos ever taken of this place. I read last week that it was not going to reopen this summer after nearly 60 years in business. I read today that the owners actually plan to burn it down as part of a practice exercise for the Delton Fire Department.
I visited last Monday after a short meeting. I figured I had about 20 minutes or so between getting gas, driving to the Dells, and sunset. I consider myself lucky to have gotten one good shot in that short time of this doomed place, boat boarded up, grass overgrown. There were several of these signs in front of the former entrance, warning rubberneckers to "keep out." The parking lot was deserted when I pulled up, not a soul in sight.
In the article I linked to above, Jason Fields explains that kids don't know about the storybook characters anymore, and I can understand that point of view. Storybook Gardens is part of the old Dells, the rollercoasterless Dells absent of waterparks and upside-down White Houses. I know we visited Storybook Gardens when I was little, although I only have vague memories of the place. I was more saddened to hear that Riverview Park was being torn down to make way for the Timbavati wildlife park. The phrase "aging waterpark" reminds me of the "litter of our times" Steinbeck was talking about, all that cheap and forgotten plastic.
However, when I read that the owners and the DFD planned to burn down the ship at Storybook Gardens, something didn't sit right with me. The mental image of flames licking the blue sky from that faded fake boat, boarded up and overgrown, making way for more cheap and plastic "zorbing," whatever that is. The comments in the article above rue the demise of the place, but they must know that in the whole history of the Dells, nothing has been sacred there for over 150 years. Attractions are burned down, people are shipped in and out, and the city sprawls and sprawls, those strange and artificial landscapes leeching into newer territories.
5.06.2011
Playland
Taken at Riverview Park and Waterworld, Wisconsin Dells, May 2011. Part of my Strange Landscapes series.
Excerpt from my thesis:
"The Dells in the winter is much less exciting. There is no longer a buzz about the heavy coats, scarves and gloves. Wisconsin winter set in early this October, making the Dells that much less inviting. The sky is that dirty snowy grey and all the leaves are almost gone. The city has absurdly tied dead corn stalks to all the lightposts and, in a gesture of efficiency, decorated all the spindly sidewalked trees in blue Christmas lights. There is no holiday here, only two seasons – tourist and the off-season. Most businesses are dark, most doors are closed. I’m spending my time off from school sitting at Ripley’s for hours. I’ve memorized every well-placed crack and erosion on the faux ancient wall next to me. The Dells itself is packed because of the indoor waterparks. Everything else on the strip is closed but us. People come into Ripley’s complaining, inquiring. Pissed off that they’ve planned a ski vacation and there’s no snow. Made a week’s reservation at the Wilderness only to tire of their five indoor waterparks by day two. What’s open? they demand, blaming me. I can only shrug. Hey, we don’t know what you’re doing here either."
Excerpt from my thesis:
"The Dells in the winter is much less exciting. There is no longer a buzz about the heavy coats, scarves and gloves. Wisconsin winter set in early this October, making the Dells that much less inviting. The sky is that dirty snowy grey and all the leaves are almost gone. The city has absurdly tied dead corn stalks to all the lightposts and, in a gesture of efficiency, decorated all the spindly sidewalked trees in blue Christmas lights. There is no holiday here, only two seasons – tourist and the off-season. Most businesses are dark, most doors are closed. I’m spending my time off from school sitting at Ripley’s for hours. I’ve memorized every well-placed crack and erosion on the faux ancient wall next to me. The Dells itself is packed because of the indoor waterparks. Everything else on the strip is closed but us. People come into Ripley’s complaining, inquiring. Pissed off that they’ve planned a ski vacation and there’s no snow. Made a week’s reservation at the Wilderness only to tire of their five indoor waterparks by day two. What’s open? they demand, blaming me. I can only shrug. Hey, we don’t know what you’re doing here either."
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