Untamed and Unruly
Just before the snow finally hit us here in Edmonton, I ventured out to find something a little different as a photography subject. For some time I’d been thinking of checking out a “graffiti tunnel” I’d heard about from other photographers and seen online.
I typically try to avoid the photography hot spots in town, because I like to appreciate the the work of other photographers from those spots. I also try to avoid imitation too much. James Popsys has this great video called The Photography Bug that rather humorously frames my thinking on how hommage and imitation in photography quickly becomes a cliché. That being said, there’s a pandemic, and with the bulk of my annual work being event photography and events are not happening right now, I’ve been craving for subjects to keep my creative juices flowing.
So, I did the research on where this tunnel was located, and my brother agreed to join me on a walk to find it. Yeah, while most parts of Edmonton are pretty safe, there are times as a photographer I don’t always feel safe going on photo walks alone (especially to some tunnel under the ring-road highway). “Photographer seeks out a graffiti tunnel on a gloomy fall evening” sounds too much like the start of a thriller novel — so I wasn’t going on my own.
The tunnel is built to facilitate the flow of a creek under the major ring highway around the city. Its walls are smooth concrete, painted white like big urban canvas’. I’m not surprised it has drawn Graffiti artists.
When we arrived I was struck by the contradictory feeling of the place. The space is far rougher than I imagined it would be. The clean lines of the relatively new design are juxtaposed with a messy, almost post-apocalyptic feeling. The work is untamed and unruly and the tunnel itself is littered with garbage. For a moment I was stunned. I’d driven over this spot dozens of times on my way home from the city.
My brother joking called it “a dump” (insert eye-roll), which I would not go so far as to say, but it definitely had a rough vibe. There was also an inspiring feeling to this space.
These artists have gone to great lengths to find and make use of this space, which is not anywhere near the downtown core of the city. As I look at the photos I captured in the fading light, I am struck by the chaotic colours, the blending and layering of ideas and yes, the beauty. I’m glad we went because I think I managed to capture the ambiance of the tunnel in my own way. I was also, upon leaving, able to find the missing verses for a poem I’ve been writing for some time, and never seemed quite finished. So I leave here the images and the poem.
Hanne
ROUND
When I was young enough to be oblivious of its value,
an old woman with blackcurrant stains on her hands,
told me it was round.
It? I asked. Round? I repeated, thinking I had misunderstood.
Round. She confirmed.
You think you are going straight.
You think you are headed away.
But life is an endless coming-back,
and what pushes you hence,
will bring you back this way.
In the light reflecting against the wall,
time stretches out in inches,
humming planes, and whirling cars.
I knew where I was going, of course,
straight ahead, into tomorrow.
but I worried to myself:
have I packed enough songs and socks?
panties and problems?
Despite all preparation,
there it was, I’d come back to it.
Exhilarating and exhausting, the years pass.
At first, every minute is an eternity.
Then somewhere, someone flips a switch,
and eternities pass in minutes.
Life bends and curves in contradiction.
The loving notes of a song,
the glowing orbs of the sky.
The stench of cigarettes and piss
and existential why.
Spray paint that is untamed and unruly,
when squinting
is shaped into unmatched beauty.
It doesn’t colour within the lines,
it doesn’t break itself into tidy chapters
like the arc of a novel.
you are born, take your breaths
and find yourself at the end
of a shovel.
And in this early winter darkness,
with a fire that glows and lingers.
I think to myself, I must still have some strength
in these legs? Still, words trapped within my fingers?
And despite all preparation,
there it was, I’d come back to it.
It becomes unfathomably messy,
the ties made and coming undone
being many and yet only one.
Mistakes, wishes, grief.
Victories, greed, regret, relief.
I come back to it every time.
And you know why? — because it is round.
H. Pearce 11.11.2020
Originally published at https://www.hannepearcephotography.ca on November 11, 2020.
