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 Wisconsin Dells. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wisconsin Dells. 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."
5.05.2011
View the Boats
Taken at the Dells Boat Docks, Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin, May 2011. Part of my Strange Landscapes series.
Excerpt from my thesis:
"I can’t get over the fact that every time I return to this life, it’s exactly the same. Exactly. I anticipate a difference and I am always disappointed. I walk out of his back door above the candy shop on the strip to see roller coasters looming out of that cold Sunday morning. Driving home hungover amid the early Masses, I am surprised by the number of people awake when I haven’t yet slept. I’m still trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to tell this story later when I’m startled by the colors on the trees. With a long-time preference for staying up until the early morning and sleeping until mid-afternoon, I have a hard time differentiating between seasons – it’s always cold at night and pretty much everything looks the same in the moonlight. It’s fall, and finally, it’s cold. Roller coasters have stopped running, water ceases from the slides and wavepools, and the ferris wheel on the parkway stands with its cars removed. Every Tuesday after Labor Day weekend, the Dells becomes a ghost town. It is now possible to get: a parking spot, a table in a restaurant, a seat at the movies, and anywhere on time. It’s depressing, in a way, but we need this – we need this so that in seven more months, we can welcome tourists, invite them again with open arms. This city is not a machine that hums and buzzes because it too has a culling song that softly lulls us all into a cold and eventual sleep."
Excerpt from my thesis:
"I can’t get over the fact that every time I return to this life, it’s exactly the same. Exactly. I anticipate a difference and I am always disappointed. I walk out of his back door above the candy shop on the strip to see roller coasters looming out of that cold Sunday morning. Driving home hungover amid the early Masses, I am surprised by the number of people awake when I haven’t yet slept. I’m still trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to tell this story later when I’m startled by the colors on the trees. With a long-time preference for staying up until the early morning and sleeping until mid-afternoon, I have a hard time differentiating between seasons – it’s always cold at night and pretty much everything looks the same in the moonlight. It’s fall, and finally, it’s cold. Roller coasters have stopped running, water ceases from the slides and wavepools, and the ferris wheel on the parkway stands with its cars removed. Every Tuesday after Labor Day weekend, the Dells becomes a ghost town. It is now possible to get: a parking spot, a table in a restaurant, a seat at the movies, and anywhere on time. It’s depressing, in a way, but we need this – we need this so that in seven more months, we can welcome tourists, invite them again with open arms. This city is not a machine that hums and buzzes because it too has a culling song that softly lulls us all into a cold and eventual sleep."
5.04.2011
Scenic Dells
The photo above was taken from the Wisconsin River bridge in Wisconsin Dells, May 2011. Part of my Strange Landscapes series.
I went on the first shoot for my personal project on Monday. I had a bad day at work and really didn't feel like going, but I'd been planning it for about a week. I'm a sucker for excuses - it was cold, I was tired and I only had an hour or so to take photos. But I bribed myself with Starbucks and a reality check - if I was going to attempt to capture the Dells in the off-season, I only have a few weeks to get started before the tourists flood in on Memorial Day. I forced myself to go through with it, and I'm glad I did. Once I got started it was hard to put the camera down and pull myself away. I had a fantastic first day and it gives me a ton of motivation to continue the project. I wound up with a dozen or so photos that I'm very proud of, with more to come on my Flickr in the next few days.
I used to pass the sign above every single day in the two years that I worked on the strip in the Wisconsin Dells. I always thought it was interesting but I had never gotten out of the car to take a real look at it. I parked in the public lot and for the first time realized how inaccessible the Dells is by foot - the strip is fine but sequestered from the rest of the city, which consists of spread out and sprawling water parks and tourist traps. You really have to drive from one place to another, which is pretty ridiculous. Getting to this spot I felt like a little kid on monkey bars, jaunting from one spot to another.
Anyway, it wasn't until I got in front of the sign that I realized what was behind it - a huge electrical complex thing situated between the river, dam, and railroad tracks. I had passed that sign a million times before, driven on that road twice a day for two years, and had never seen what I was seeing from the sidewalk. I guffawed and got to work.
The rest of my short time there was exactly the same way. Maybe it sounds cliched, but it wasn't until I really stopped and looked at the Dells that I started to see things, to really see them. I expect this project to operate in much of the same way, not only a process of technical discovery with my camera but hopefully a process of personal discovery, teaching myself to look at things and really see them.
I'll leave you with a quote I used in my thesis:
"I had heard of the Wisconsin Dells but was not prepared for the weird country sculptured by the Ice Age, a strange, gleaming country of water and carved rock, black and green. To awaken here might make one believe it a dream of some other planet, for it has a non-earthly quality, or else the engraved record of a time when the world was much younger and much different. Clinging to the sides of the dreamlike waterways was the litter of our times, the motels, the hot-dog stands, the merchants of the cheap and mediocre and tawdry so loved by summer tourist, but these incrustations were closed and boarded against the winter and, even open, I doubt they could dispel the enchantment of the Wisconsin Dells." - John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley in Search of America, 1962
I went on the first shoot for my personal project on Monday. I had a bad day at work and really didn't feel like going, but I'd been planning it for about a week. I'm a sucker for excuses - it was cold, I was tired and I only had an hour or so to take photos. But I bribed myself with Starbucks and a reality check - if I was going to attempt to capture the Dells in the off-season, I only have a few weeks to get started before the tourists flood in on Memorial Day. I forced myself to go through with it, and I'm glad I did. Once I got started it was hard to put the camera down and pull myself away. I had a fantastic first day and it gives me a ton of motivation to continue the project. I wound up with a dozen or so photos that I'm very proud of, with more to come on my Flickr in the next few days.
I used to pass the sign above every single day in the two years that I worked on the strip in the Wisconsin Dells. I always thought it was interesting but I had never gotten out of the car to take a real look at it. I parked in the public lot and for the first time realized how inaccessible the Dells is by foot - the strip is fine but sequestered from the rest of the city, which consists of spread out and sprawling water parks and tourist traps. You really have to drive from one place to another, which is pretty ridiculous. Getting to this spot I felt like a little kid on monkey bars, jaunting from one spot to another.
Anyway, it wasn't until I got in front of the sign that I realized what was behind it - a huge electrical complex thing situated between the river, dam, and railroad tracks. I had passed that sign a million times before, driven on that road twice a day for two years, and had never seen what I was seeing from the sidewalk. I guffawed and got to work.
The rest of my short time there was exactly the same way. Maybe it sounds cliched, but it wasn't until I really stopped and looked at the Dells that I started to see things, to really see them. I expect this project to operate in much of the same way, not only a process of technical discovery with my camera but hopefully a process of personal discovery, teaching myself to look at things and really see them.
I'll leave you with a quote I used in my thesis:
"I had heard of the Wisconsin Dells but was not prepared for the weird country sculptured by the Ice Age, a strange, gleaming country of water and carved rock, black and green. To awaken here might make one believe it a dream of some other planet, for it has a non-earthly quality, or else the engraved record of a time when the world was much younger and much different. Clinging to the sides of the dreamlike waterways was the litter of our times, the motels, the hot-dog stands, the merchants of the cheap and mediocre and tawdry so loved by summer tourist, but these incrustations were closed and boarded against the winter and, even open, I doubt they could dispel the enchantment of the Wisconsin Dells." - John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley in Search of America, 1962
5.03.2011
Strange Landscapes
The photo above is part of a long-term project to capture the Wisconsin Dells in the off-season. I started planning last week and went out on my first shoot on Monday.
The Dells for most people exists between the months of June and August. The Waterpark Capital of the World attracts hundreds of thousands of people in those few months. I'm fascinated by what goes on the other nine months of the year, when the colorful and slightly run-down rides stand out stark against grey Wisconsin skies and landscapes. The Dells doesn't disappear when the tourists go home. It stays. My project is going to be to capture what that looks like.
I was totally inspired by Ted Forbes and Wade Griffith's podcast, The Photography Show, which I listen to on long drives to and from Reedsburg. Their conversations typically run the gamut from banter to inspiration to hardcore information, and I appreciate that. Teaching isn't all about straight-up learning, and we all learn in different ways. I have no interest in "going pro," just taking cool images that make me happy and sometimes sharing that with people, and I feel like that podcast speaks to a multitude of photography audiences. I enjoy it. Anyway, they were talking the other day about having a long-term personal project to work on that might take a year, ten years, whatever it takes - just something on the back burner that you do just because you enjoy it. They said to think of what you like to shoot and go shoot it - if it's portraits, go take portraits, if it's band photos, go shoot band photos. That got me thinking - what do I really like to take pictures of? Which of my photos do I really like looking at? What subject matter makes me happiest?
Besides my cats (lol), only one photo really came to mind. I took this photo at Butterfest last year, and along with this one and this one, they are among some of my favorite images I've ever captured. I've taken photos at Butterfest for the Reedsburg Independent for the past couple years, and from the parade to the demo derby, it's one of my favorite times of year. The colors, the looks on people's faces, the scenes, the rides, everything. And they are photos I love to revisit again and again. But Butterfest only comes once per year.
John suggested that this summer, we follow carnivals around the state and take photos, and while I kind of like the idea of being nomadic carnie-stalkers, those images could get old really fast. Why not go somewhere the carnival never leaves? The Dells.
I grew up in Reedsburg, 15 minutes from the Dells, and I wrote my senior thesis on how that affected my psyche, and the minds and imaginations of my friends and neighbors. We spent three months of the year working in the cartoonishness that is the summer-Dells and another nine months of the year working in an empty city, waterslides devoid of water. What is a tourist attraction like when the tourists are gone?
I did a decent job of writing about it in the year and a half I spent on my senior thesis. I've decided to revisit the subject matter with a new tool - my camera. We'll see what happens. Expect more rambling on my childhood, tourism theory, and hopefully a few decent images.
The Dells for most people exists between the months of June and August. The Waterpark Capital of the World attracts hundreds of thousands of people in those few months. I'm fascinated by what goes on the other nine months of the year, when the colorful and slightly run-down rides stand out stark against grey Wisconsin skies and landscapes. The Dells doesn't disappear when the tourists go home. It stays. My project is going to be to capture what that looks like.
I was totally inspired by Ted Forbes and Wade Griffith's podcast, The Photography Show, which I listen to on long drives to and from Reedsburg. Their conversations typically run the gamut from banter to inspiration to hardcore information, and I appreciate that. Teaching isn't all about straight-up learning, and we all learn in different ways. I have no interest in "going pro," just taking cool images that make me happy and sometimes sharing that with people, and I feel like that podcast speaks to a multitude of photography audiences. I enjoy it. Anyway, they were talking the other day about having a long-term personal project to work on that might take a year, ten years, whatever it takes - just something on the back burner that you do just because you enjoy it. They said to think of what you like to shoot and go shoot it - if it's portraits, go take portraits, if it's band photos, go shoot band photos. That got me thinking - what do I really like to take pictures of? Which of my photos do I really like looking at? What subject matter makes me happiest?
Besides my cats (lol), only one photo really came to mind. I took this photo at Butterfest last year, and along with this one and this one, they are among some of my favorite images I've ever captured. I've taken photos at Butterfest for the Reedsburg Independent for the past couple years, and from the parade to the demo derby, it's one of my favorite times of year. The colors, the looks on people's faces, the scenes, the rides, everything. And they are photos I love to revisit again and again. But Butterfest only comes once per year.
John suggested that this summer, we follow carnivals around the state and take photos, and while I kind of like the idea of being nomadic carnie-stalkers, those images could get old really fast. Why not go somewhere the carnival never leaves? The Dells.
I grew up in Reedsburg, 15 minutes from the Dells, and I wrote my senior thesis on how that affected my psyche, and the minds and imaginations of my friends and neighbors. We spent three months of the year working in the cartoonishness that is the summer-Dells and another nine months of the year working in an empty city, waterslides devoid of water. What is a tourist attraction like when the tourists are gone?
I did a decent job of writing about it in the year and a half I spent on my senior thesis. I've decided to revisit the subject matter with a new tool - my camera. We'll see what happens. Expect more rambling on my childhood, tourism theory, and hopefully a few decent images.
3.26.2011
Downtown Dells
Taken in Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin, 2010.
I have always been fascinated with the view from the lookout point on the Wisconsin River, just off the strip in the Wisconsin Dells. It's a Riverwalk the city obviously spent a lot of money to build. It runs between the Wisconsin River and a public parking lot.
I think that few people appreciate the significance of the view from that point. From one single point, you see so many facets of the Dells' past, present and future. You see the river itself, the foundation of the entire Dells itself, the natural area and what made it so appealing to early settlers. Then you see the railroad bridge and beyond that, the dam, the modern technologies of the 1800s that allowed the Dells to grow and flourish. They brought industry, people, electricity to the Dells. To the lower left you can see the Dells' boat docks where scenery tour ships launch to bring people closer to the natural beauty of the Wisconsin Dells. Then from the same point you can see rollercoasters jutting out over the treeline, the symbol of the Dells in the last 30 years and the prosperity that has come from them. If you turn slightly to the left, you can see the downtown strip lined with tacky souvenir shops and tourist traps, what John Steinbeck called "the litter of our times."
And the future? Who knows.
The above photo was shot directly into the setting sun to maximize the silhouette of the "Riverwalk" sign.
I have always been fascinated with the view from the lookout point on the Wisconsin River, just off the strip in the Wisconsin Dells. It's a Riverwalk the city obviously spent a lot of money to build. It runs between the Wisconsin River and a public parking lot.
I think that few people appreciate the significance of the view from that point. From one single point, you see so many facets of the Dells' past, present and future. You see the river itself, the foundation of the entire Dells itself, the natural area and what made it so appealing to early settlers. Then you see the railroad bridge and beyond that, the dam, the modern technologies of the 1800s that allowed the Dells to grow and flourish. They brought industry, people, electricity to the Dells. To the lower left you can see the Dells' boat docks where scenery tour ships launch to bring people closer to the natural beauty of the Wisconsin Dells. Then from the same point you can see rollercoasters jutting out over the treeline, the symbol of the Dells in the last 30 years and the prosperity that has come from them. If you turn slightly to the left, you can see the downtown strip lined with tacky souvenir shops and tourist traps, what John Steinbeck called "the litter of our times."
And the future? Who knows.
The above photo was shot directly into the setting sun to maximize the silhouette of the "Riverwalk" sign.
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