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BRIAN VANDEN BRINK High Street Gallery Please click images above for full view.
Brian Vanden Brink is often chosen as architectural photographer by those in the world of residential design. He has been photographing award-winning architecture for three decades. Brian's name is synonymous with a respect for design and passion for light. His work has been featured widely in a variety of design and consumer publications such as Architectural Digest, Architectural Record, Boston Globe Magazine, Coastal Living, Design New England, Down East, La Vie Claire, Maine Home & Design, Metropolitan Home, New England Home, New York Times Magazine, Photo District News, Residential Architect, and View Camera Magazine. His photographs grace many books including his own At Home by the Sea: Houses Designed for Living at the Water's Edge and At Home In Maine: Houses Designed to Fit the Land.
Brian's new book RUIN: Photographs of a Vanishing America is scheduled for release in the spring of 2009. RUIN is a photographic study of abandoned architecture throughout the United States. He can often been seen motoring in his 1947 Willys Jeep in Camden, Maine where he lives with his wife Kathleen. This exhibit is co-sponsored by Cross Jewelers, celebrating 100 years in Portland & DownEast Magazine.
Most of my photography is for architects or for publications about architecture and design. My professional environment consists of beautiful spaces carefully designed and meticulously prepared for the camera. I am, however, also drawn to photograph an entirely different kind of architecture. These buildings are not new, well maintained, or filled with life. They're empty, abandoned, and worn out. Life has passed them by, and for unknown reasons, they are no longer useful or needed. To me they are mysterious and melancholy, hauntingly beautiful in some strange way, and more fascinating than the new buildings I shoot professionally.
I found myself thinking about what draws me to these decaying structures. Why the attraction to these ruins? Have I been trying to tell myself something? Growing up in Nebraska, I've always appreciated wide-open spaces and a sense of isolation, but I don't think my interest comes from that. I love history and am attracted to significant sites, but this work is not an expression of that, particularly. I've been influenced by artists who create works of emptiness and melancholy, but I am not attempting to emulate those images, either.
Maybe these buildings fascinate me because they represent all of us; maybe they are symbols of our own impermanent status here on earth--metaphors for our transient lives and inability to stop the passing of time. The Bible says that in this world we have no enduring city, but we look forward to a city whose architect and builder is God. Jesus told us not to lay up treasures on earth, where moths and rust corrupt and thieves break in and steal, but to lay up treasures in heaven. Are these buildings reminders or allegories of something we are reluctant to acknowledge? A couple of weeks before my dad died last year, my brothers and I were helping him out of his bed to go to the bathroom. As he struggled down the hall, he said quietly, "Take a good look, boys, this is going to be you sooner than you think." He was right. Our lives go by so quickly and we leave behind the relics of our time here and of what we thought was important. Deep down I know this earth is not my home, that "I'm just a-passing through," as the old gospel song says.
When I'm around these buildings, I can't help thinking about the life that went on within their walls and wondering what happened to the folks who lived or worked there. Will someone stand in my house some day and wonder the same things? That makes me a bit uneasy, but it also helps me understand why I find old, worn-out paint, broken windows, and sagging floors in some ways more beautiful than brand new houses, where everything is perfect. I know that someday soon that broken down house is going to resemble me, or my loved ones. Deep down inside I wonder if I'll still be appreciated and valued when I'm no longer productive, have outlived my usefulness, and cost a lot just to maintain, like these buildings. They are relics of another time, of other lives, but they are of my time, too. They are statues, memorializing the transitory nature of life. Ironically, we are frequently moving too fast, erecting the next building and developing the next big thing, to notice these icons or consider what they can teach us about our values. These buildings help me realize the importance of contentment, of being satisfied with what I have.
The photographs were done over a period of thirty years. For the most part, I came across them on the road to or from an assignment somewhere, and I shot them simply because I found them interesting. As a photographer, traveling is almost always an adventure. I never know when something will capture my attention. Coming across an abandoned building always makes me stop, back up, and go out of my way to explore it. These places energize me and are a joy to photograph. They are an important part of my personal work and building this body of images has been a labor of love.
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