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Textbook Ebook Ruin Porn and The Obsession With Decay Siobhan Lyons All Chapter PDF
Textbook Ebook Ruin Porn and The Obsession With Decay Siobhan Lyons All Chapter PDF
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
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This work is the result of the time and efforts of a number of people,
without whom the book would not come to fruition. First, I would
like to acknowledge the contributors of this volume, whose work and
enthusiasm for the book has made the entire project worthwhile; I wish
to thank them for their generous time and efforts in contributing to
this volume. I also wish to acknowledge Shaun Vigil, whose continued
patience and guidance through the process have been incredibly helpful,
and whose support has been very much appreciated. My sincere thanks
also goes to Glenn Ramirez for his work on getting the book to publi-
cation, and his patience throughout the editing process. I would like to
offer my sincere gratitude to the team at Palgrave Macmillan for their
assistance and support with this book, from start to finish. And finally, as
always, a huge thank you to my parents Fran and Patrick, whose contin-
ued support makes this work possible.
v
Contents
vii
viii Contents
Index 235
Notes on Contributors
xi
xii Notes on Contributors
Sarasota Film Festival, Dallas VideoFest, the Virginia Film Festival, Indie
Grits, Athens Film and Video Festival, and the Insight Festival. He cur-
rently teaches Film Production at Bowling Green State University in Ohio.
Nancy Cushing is an Associate Professor based in the History dis-
cipline at University of Newcastle, Australia. She works in the areas of
heritage, regional, and environmental history having co-written or edited
Snake-bitten, Eric Worrell and the Australian Reptile Park (UNSW Press,
2010), Radical Newcastle (NewSouth Press, 2015), Smoky City (Hunter
Press, 2015), and Animals Count (Routledge, 2018). She is an active
member of the historical profession, convening the Australian and New
Zealand Environmental History Network and serving on the History
Council of New South Wales’ executive council.
Joseph Donica is an assistant professor of English at Bronx Community
College of the City University of New York. He teaches American lit-
erature, literary criticism and theory, and writing courses. He has pub-
lished articles and reviews on American architecture, 9/11 literature,
Edward P. Jones, Arab-American literature, Netflix and the digital future,
the politics of the Internet, Hurricane Katrina memoirs, and disabil-
ity studies. He is also a contributor to the Sage Encyclopaedia of War
as well as the Website American Muslims: History, Culture, and Politics.
His latest articles are “Rethinking Utopia for the Twenty-First Century:
The Good Life after Occupy and the Arab Spring,” “Negative Memory
after Katrina: The Persistence of Memoir,” “The Erosion of the Cultural
Commons and the Possibilities of Participatory Urbanism,” “Not
All Roads Lead to Rome: The State of the Humanities at Community
Colleges,” and “Is Computer Code Queer?” His article on every-
day life in Rabih Alameddine’s Koolaids: The Art of War is forthcom-
ing in College Literature. He is co-editing a collection of essays titled
Reflections on a Changing Profession: The Future of the English
Ph.D. and writing his first monograph titled Inequality’s Subjects:
Neoliberalism and American Literature after Occupy Wall Street and the
Arab Spring. He currently serves on the executive board of the Rocky
Mountain Modern Language Association, and he is the chair of the com-
mittee awarding the John Leo and Dana Heller Award in LGBTQ stud-
ies through the Popular Culture Association.
Amanda Firestone is Assistant Professor of Communication at The
University of Tampa. She teaches media studies and often includes
Notes on Contributors xiii
xvii
xviii List of Figures
Fig. 9.5 The rear of the new Walton’s store, later Frogys,
in October 1966 (Source Gostalgia: local history
from Gosford Library) 169
Fig. 9.6 Graffiti now largely obscure this bas relief sculpture in the
Brisbane Water County Council Building (Source http://
thenandtoday.com/australia/nsw/gosford-council/
gosford/bwcc-april-2017/) 171
Fig. 9.7 An everyday space transformed: plants colonise Frogy’s
interior (Source Michael Kilmister, June 2016) 174
Fig. 9.8 Interior shot of Frogy’s in 2016 showing the original
timber floors laid for Waltons, the roller skating rink
and the proliferation of street art (Source Michael
Kilmister, June 2016) 175
CHAPTER 1
Siobhan Lyons
‘It is easier to imagine the end of the world than it into imagine the end of
capitalism.’
Frederic Jameson
S. Lyons (*)
Department of Media, Music, Communication and Cultural Studies,
Macquarie University, Sydney, NSW, Australia
in some way with the threat of death, its alliance with the notion of ruin
porn is unsurprising and essential. Indeed, such images retain something
of a Freudian death-drive (Thanatos).
We have been able to imagine the endtimes before, as is marked by
the generous archives of art, music, and literature that approached how,
when, or why the end will occur. But the very real presence of modern
ruins—of buildings, houses, amusement parks and entire cities—goes
one step further in solidifying and manifesting the narrative that we have
imagined for hundreds of years. Death, and extinction, have become a
reality.
This is why the term ‘ruin porn’—dubious and insufficient though
it may be—is more accurate than, say, ‘ruin art’, because it is grounded
and warehoused in obsession. The term also helps to explain a partial but
wary acceptance of this ultimate fate, explaining why we don’t use the
term ‘ruin fear’, seemingly a more logical term for the phenomenon. As
sociologist Ernest Becker argues, death does not appear to be something
that immediately causes concern in the everyday: ‘We can understand
what seems like an impossible paradox: the ever-present fear of death
in the normal biological functioning of our instinct of self-preservation,
as well as our utter obliviousness to this fear in our conscious life’.1 We
don’t fear collective annihilation every day, even though we are con-
scious of the eventuality of our own demise. This curious predicament
seemingly defines the human condition, and helps to explain and fore-
ground the enduring captivation of decaying buildings and skyscrapers
crumbling to the ground. This image of finality exists within our reach,
but not completely. As I have previously argued,2 ruin porn is so compel-
ling precisely because it is a bewildering form of time travel to the future
within the present. It allows us to view, as if in a museum, something
uncompromisingly real and consequential, but without having to engage
completely with the dire consequences it realistically provokes. It offers
an image of our own death while we are still alive. In this sense, those
who take photographs of ruin and those that are bewitched by them
become voyeurs of their own lives within a fragile history. This helps to
explain the psychical resonance of contemporary ruins; in such settings
1 Ernest
Becker, The Denial of Death (New York: The Free Press, 1973), 17.
2 Siobhan
Lyons, “Debbie Does Decay: What Ruin Porn Tells Us About Ruins—
And Porn,” The Conversation, August 18, 2015, https://theconversation.com/
debbie-does-decay-what-ruin-porn-tells-us-about-ruins-and-porn-45776.
1 INTRODUCTION: RUIN PORN, CAPITALISM, AND THE ANTHROPOCENE 3
we see the fusion of time and space. As Walter Benjamin argues in The
Origin of the German Tragic Drama: ‘In the ruin, history has physically
merged into the setting. And in this guise history does not assume the
form of the process of eternal life so much as that of irresistible decay’3
Ruin porn is also, in this manner, an expression against the thor-
oughly anthropocentric discourse that pervades contemporary culture.
The term Anthropocene—one as insufficient and potentially ambigu-
ous as ruin porn—circulates around a new human-centeredness, a reas-
sertion of a humanist kind of thinking that once again fails to capture
the severity and complexity of existence. Said to follow the Holocene,
the Anthropocene is defined by humanity’s irreversible impact upon
the earth, an ironic development that has, in itself, threatened the sur-
vival of the human species. Climate change is at once driven by human-
ity and will cause humanity’s collective extinction. As Elizabeth Kolbert
observes, ‘The current extinction has its own novel cause: not an asteroid
or a massive volcanic eruption but “one weedy species”’4
At the same time, others have found this anthropocentric discourse
useful. As Joanna Zylinska argues: ‘it would be hard to deny that the
Anthropocene thesis is almost a perfect antidote to the politics of the
status quo: it is also the first science-based account of the death of the
postindustrial capitalism of the globalised world—as well as the death of
that world’5. Postcapitalism and posthumanism thus merge, with the col-
lapse of our buildings signalling the potential end of a humanist, capital-
istic driven manner of ‘life’. The images of overgrowth in capitalistic sites
thrust us into both a prehistoric and futuristic mentality simultaneously,
whereby humanity’s influence is bested, removed, and rendered obso-
lete in favour of organic, botanical life not beholden to human history or
culture.
These sites are disturbing not only because they threaten the illu-
sion of human invincibility, but because they also threaten the prevailing
reign of capitalism. As Frederic Jameson shrewdly noted, ‘it is far easier
to imagine the end of the world, rather than the end of capitalism’. But
ruin porn confronts both of these matters in a single gesture. The end of
3 Walter Benjamin, The Origin of German Tragic Drama (London and New York: Verso
5 Joanna Zylinska, Nonhuman Photography (Cambridge and London: The MIT Press,
2017), 94.
4 S. LYONS
capitalism thus evokes the end of the world. When we see our buildings
collapse—particularly prematurely—it signals the fragility of capitalism,
something which is inexorably intertwined with the demise of human
civilisation. Humanity thus becomes inseparable from the products it has
produced. Indeed, as scholar Jason McGrath reminds us: ‘The posthu-
man gaze at modernist ruins reminds us that, no matter how many new
objects we produce, consume, and discard, those objects will in many
cases far outlive us and the purposes to which we put them’.6 The pres-
ence of a decaying building, therefore, ushers in a terrifying but arresting
way of viewing our own demise as something imminent, rather than ulti-
mately imaginary.
But this is not to suggest, Zylinska says, ‘that we should all therefore
just sit back and wait for extinction to happen, or extinguish all hope
for material and political change in the near term, contemplating ruin
porn while wallowing in our own transience’.7 And there is certainly a
tendency to wallow in and succumb to complete despair. But Zylinska
argues that ‘extending the temporal scale beyond that of human history
by introducing the horizon of extinction can be an important first step
in visualising a post-neoliberal world here and now’,8 and this is precisely
what contemporary ruins engender. In this sense, ruin porn becomes a
useful method through which to approach the finality of humanity by
removing death somewhat from the terrain of the imaginary, and forcing
it into reality. No longer is the apocalypse reserved for the future, but
becomes part of the here and now. As Tong Lam asserts, ‘in a way, we
are already post-apocalyptic’.9
As a concept, ruin porn has been notably and deservedly criticised
for its tendency towards exploitation and the trivialisation of economic
struggle and decay. Detroit-based photographer and Sweet Juniper blog-
ger, James D. Griffioen, who is noted as having coined the term ruin
porn, notes that locals in Detroit dislike the arrival of ‘outsider’ pho-
tographers, who photograph the same sites over and over with their
6 Jason McGrath, “Apocalypse, or, the Logic of Late Anthropocene Ruins,” Cross-
Currents: East Asian History and Culture Review, no. 10 (March 2014), http://cross-
currents.berkeley.edu/e-journal/issue-10 117.
7 Zylinska, Nonhuman Photography, 94.
8 Ibid.
9 Tong Lam, Abandoned Futures: A Journey to the Posthuman World (Darlington: Carpet
1, 2009, https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/ppzb9z/something-something-something-
detroit-994-v16n8.
11 Richard B. Woodward, “Disaster Photography: When Is Documentary Exploitation?”
13 Dora Apel, Beautiful Terrible Ruins: Detroit and the Anxiety of Decline (New