Published in Photo District News, July 2008, this article is a great summary of my project, Bunkers: Ruins of War in a New American Landscape and my background as an architect turned photographer.  An online portfolio and description of the project can be seen (here).

A Bunker Mentality

Leaving behind a successful career in architecture, California photographer Alex Fradkin finds beauty in the abandoned war bunkers of Northern California.

July 2, 2008

-Anthony LaSala

 

Lost in a tangle of overgrown brushwood and wildflowers, weathered by the relentless push and pull of voracious seawater, the war bunkers along the coast of the San Francisco Bay have lain in wait for decades for an epic conflict that never materialized. Fossilized beasts of another era, their skins teem with modern-day hieroglyphics, their luster and original purpose having vanished long ago.

 Since 1998, California photographer Alex Fradkin has been scouring the shoreline for the crumbling remnants of these stone defensive structures. Using a 4 x 5 Horseman HD Field Camera, he has captured the hulking bunkers that line the seashore, each of them created by a long list of settlers wary of foreign invasions—including the Spanish, the Mexicans and finally the Americans. In 2009, Chronicle Books will publish the photographs in Bunkers: Ruins of War in a New American Landscape. Many of the images will surely resonate with viewers because of current international events. However, it wasn't the bunkers' military history that originally drew Fradkin's interest.

 "Initially, it was their strange alien appearance in this particular landscape. These structures are extremely brutal and cold in appearance and their purpose, so completely at odds with the peacefulness and tranquility of the coastal landscape," says Fradkin, who first noticed the bunkers while visiting his parents in the Bay Area. "The tragic events of September 11th and the tragic response to those events, the pervasive mood shift of the country, all of a sudden made photographing ruins of war and bunkers strangely relevant where it hadn't been before."

 

 Fradkin, 41, was born in Los Angeles and moved to the Bay Area when he was three. From the age of five, he wanted to be an architect, and he eventually realized that goal when he graduated from the University of Oregon in 1993 and joined an architecture firm the following year in Seattle. An interest in photography led him to be the unofficial shooter in the office; he would often photograph building projects in their various stages of completion. Eventually his work with the camera became an obsession, directing him toward the very tough choice of leaving behind his childhood dream.

 "This was a difficult decision since architecture was a goal and passion that gave me a sense of purpose, drive and identity for over 25 years," says Fradkin. "Within the space of a couple of years, the passion began to wither under the creative restrictions of the realities of the architectural profession. I was designing and working on Nordstrom department stores, moving further and further away from what it was that excited me about being an architect. It was at a time when there were not many jobs available in other firms and the viability of my making a living with my camera was becoming more of a possibility."

 Fradkin moved to Chicago where he attended Columbia College, graduating in 2000 with an MFA. For his thesis he photographed the destruction of the Chicago Housing Authority high-rises, particularly the Robert Taylor Homes. "My interest in these structures was a direct result of my architectural training, where we had studied the disasters of early housing policies and their results on the social and urban fabric. This was my first real engagement on the nature and metaphoric potential of ruins, which would influence much of my later work, especially the bunker project," he explains.

 After returning to California, Fradkin sought out the bunkers that had caught his eye years earlier. Located within a few miles of the Golden Gate Bridge, many of the structures are located on National Park land in the Marin Headlands. Park rangers would often place blockades around the openings of the bunkers, but vandals and other probing visitors would repeatedly remove them. Some of the bunkers were refurbished and included in tours. Many, however, were simply left to corrode into the surrounding landscape.

 Fradkin traversed various terrains (some dangerous enough to accidentally kill visitors) and scrupulously scouted each structure—some for many years—to find the best time of day or the perfect season to capture.

 "One bunker in particular, I first saw perched on a bluff, one hundred feet up. When I began to seriously photograph the project, it had slid all the way down the bluff and appeared as if it had nose-dived into the sand of the beach below," says Fradkin. "It stayed in this 45-degree angle for over five years before a large storm produced swells large and strong enough to lift several tons of concrete, turn it 90 degrees and deposit it flat on the beach."

 In 2001 Fradkin met Alan Rapp, senior editor at Chronicle Books, at a PhotoAlliance book-publishing symposium. After the talk, Fradkin showed him some bunker prints he had hidden at the bottom of his portfolio. Rapp told Fradkin that he was on to something. That meeting began a correspondence that lasted through 2008 and resulted in the plans for Bunkers.

 "I've been watching this body of work develop over a few years now, and I think it's exemplary of the strengths of contemporary landscape photography," says Rapp. "It's both historical and conceptual; in this military architecture we can see the past, present and future of the San Francisco Bay Area all in one. Plus, I just love good photos of derelict spaces."

 

Fradkin also gathered together a group of supporters—from fellow photographers to writers to gallery owners—to help him complete the project. One of those supporters was fellow Berkeley neighbor and photographer Richard Misrach, whom Fradkin had met at a lecture. Fradkin met with Misrach a number of times for advice and support at Misrach's studio. "Richard's generosity of time, warmth and enthusiasm was greatly appreciated and an early affirmation that I might have something worth pursuing," says Fradkin. "Showing Richard the work as it developed most definitely helped to keep my spirits up when I would inevitably start questioning my strange obsession with bunkers." Photographer Mark Klett, who will be writing the introductory essay to the book (writer Tom Vanderbilt will contribute the foreword), was another backer.

 Besides the bunker project, Fradkin works as an editorial photographer, shooting for the New York Times Magazine, Geo and Crain's. He is also working on another book, this one titled The Left Coast: California in Extremis. It is a study of the people and landscape of the California coastline that will be accompanied by text from Fradkin's father—the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Philip Fradkin. The University of California Press will publish the book in 2010.

 "It took me eight years to cover ten linear miles along the coast to photograph the bunker project. I have two years to cover 1,100 miles of coastline with extreme variations. It should be interesting."

 

 

A Different School of Thought

 Alex Fradkin attended Columbia College in Chicago to hone his skills as a shooter, but says he actually began his visual studies while studying architecture at the University of Oregon.

 "I often joke that architecture school was the most expensive and best photography school that I could have gone to," says Fradkin. "The intersection of light, form, texture and space are critical elements that, when skillfully combined, help to make effective architecture. In many ways the same can be said for photography."

 Of course, this is not to suggest that a B.A. from an architecture school is needed before you can photograph a building. But a class in your local university, especially for an aspiring architecture photographer, might not be a bad idea.

 "The better architectural programs intensively teach you to be acutely aware of place," says Fradkin. "Each region is defined in part by its light, forms, textures, scale, and its specific history and environment. These are core elements in my photography that are also an early inspiration in my architectural design. Additionally, anything to better inform the photographer about architectural history, theory and core principles of building design can only be helpful when planning a photo shoot."

 —AL

VENICE BEACH CHARACTER SKETCHES

I suppose if one where to go looking for characters to photograph, Venice Beach California would certainly not disappoint for lack of variation, eccentricity and “interesting” personalities.  The only danger apart from pissing off the locals is to fall prey to the normal photographic cliché traps that such a location often yields so easily.  Then again, if the cliché is the target, then such a location is a photographers dream!  It was my self appointed assignment to explore the visual chaos for my upcoming photographic book “The Left Coast: California in Extremis” (working title) to be published by the University of California Press in 2010 (project link).  Cliché, myth, fictions, facts, history, landscape, politics and dreams, all collide in a spectacular way on this side of the continent.  My task is to weave a visual narrative out of the wreckage.  In regard to extremes, Venice Beach is both emblematic and potentially problematic in its iconic stature as the stereotypical California beach town.  Such contradictions are in many ways reflect this state as a whole and make it a challenging and enticing place to photograph.

Early each morning, coffee and camera in each hand I went wandering.  After a few days the rhythm of the place and people became more familiar.  A few of their pictures and stories are shown and described below.

Anaya: Venice Beach, CA

I am always a little suspicious of cheery people before 8am in the morning.  When I met Anaya on the beach near the wreckage of a boat, one morning, my coffee had not yet taken effect and her exuberance was at first unnerving.  Clad in pink jogging pants and tee shirt with "Virtuous Woman" emblazoned across the front Anaya, unprompted, explained to me that her name meant, "pathway to God".  Wary of a conversion attempt before I had armored myself with at least one cup of coffee, I gently moved the conversation to another topic.  I spent a couple of days trying to make the image work and having made many trips to this location at various times to the day, I was having a difficult time making it work until Anaya was so cheerfully willing to help me out.  Juxtaposed with a graffiti painted shipwreck, Anaya's presence fit perfectly in my mind with the opportunity that the boat provided as an impromptu art installation.  At first glance, both seemed unique in this environment, and after a few seconds, made sense in their respective ways.  

Amir and Me: Venice Beach, CA  

Amir: Venice Beach, CA

I saw Amir the first day I arrived in Venice Beach.  For the rest of the day I obsessed about how I was going to overcome my self inflicted intimidation and ask him to allow me to take his photo.  When I finally got over myself, he was gone!  The following evening I did not make the same mistake when again, I saw him.  Amir was a completely enjoyable person who was very approachable and intrigued with my view camera.  He started with the usual pumping iron poses which, while entertaining, weren't visually working for me.  I just waited and talked with Amir until something caught his attention, providing an opportunity to make this image. Amir lives in Venice Beach with his girlfriend, a Taro Card reader, and accepts tips from tourists wanting to pose with him.  Mostly European women.  As we were talking, a Danish Woman shyly approached him.  Thinking that when she passed the camera to me to take their picture, she would just pose next to him, Amir startled her by picking her up in his large arms. Afterwards I handed her my digital SLR that I use for metering, forgetting to change the settings.  I politely declined Amir's offer to pick me up as well.  We talked for awhile longer after I had packed up my camera and enjoyed Amir's description of the local eccentrics passing by, noting to myself his shaman necklace of giant fanged teeth and red, white and blue Speedo.  

Tattoo Parlor: Venice Beach, CA

This scene was way too enticing to pass up!  Exhausted, tired and frustrated from a day from what had been an unsuccessful photographic shoot.  After talking my way in and getting permission from the young man in the chair and the tattoo artist, I set up my camera and waited.  Eventually they either forgot I was there or got bored and ignored me.  They young man, getting his first tattoo was straining not to show his discomfort while getting inked.  His eyes would roam across the walls looking at the artwork with seeming intense interest.  My impression was that he was taking very little of what he was looking at.  Every now and then a bead of sweat (it was not hot) would show on his forehead and work its way downward.  His girlfriend was sitting on a stool nearby looking bored.  Later his friends dropped in to see how the tattoo was progressing and after joking to him about my presence and what I was up to. Eventually I became invisible to them too and was able to return to taking images.  

Tom: Handball Courts, Venice Beach, CA

The handball courts were a particularly interesting place.  Very early in the morning the homeless would sleep in them.  Around 8am the retirees, of various eastern European descent would appear to take over the courts and play handball.  Latinos of every age would start showing up around early afternoon and play till evening.  Tom was in the first shift.  His actual place of refuge was a small encampment on the beach a few yards from the courts.  He would arrive with his guitar and small battery powered amp to play for a couple of hours each morning.  The morning we met, it was around 7:30 and the still grayness of the fog had not yet lifted.  My interaction with Tom was fascinating.  He accepted my presence as just another random sequence of events in his life.  Our initial conversation wandered non-sequentially, ranging from various musical topics as he played.  He would then drift back into consciousness, talking for a few minutes before the music in his head would start again, disappearing to wherever he goes when his fingers begin to move on the strings.  Clapton, Zeppelin, blues and rock, all intermingling with his own songs would spill out echoing through the handball courts on his small amp.  The presence of my large view camera was incidental to the more compelling aspects of how our conversation ebbed and flowed, often overtaken by the more powerful force that would take Tom away for a few minutes when the music would start in his head and work its way through his fingers, becoming amplified off the concrete walls breaking the gray stillness of a Venice Beach morning.