When I saw the headline, I rushed down to the beach, knowing I'd missed this morning's low tide by a few hours. I was thinking that the concert hall would have been scooped up from the sand like a toy on a fairground grabber game that always grinds to a halt just before you win, that there would be nothing left to see.
They'd talked about it long enough. I knew it was a case of waiting for those lowest of low tides that I so love for the demolition team to speed into action, their plan being to remove the concert hall which was the wreckage closest to shore. The main "island" is apparently going to remain.
So, this was the scene as I arrived with a new view and the tangled remains dumped in a heap. Removal job complete. And piece after piece was being dumped in enormous skips. Very sad to see a full one being driven away.
So, there will be no more of those lovely inky shadowy shots like I posted here that were taken when I was standing underneath the arched girders for the last time, not knowing I should have been saying goodbye to one of the wildest parts of town.
15 comments:
Try as I might I just can't see the Australians!
Yes, I remember 'blacks turned into ink'. Now what a site with all that demolition, all broken apart...memories and photos to hold now.
Hi Gordon. Took me a while to get that one!
Hi Blue Sky Dreaming. Lots of lovely memories and pieces inspired by it. I think I'll feel better about it when all the fences and clanging machinery have gone.
mmmm, a bit of history being wiped clean and new history in the making - very complex actions - I use to tell my boys when they were growing up, "take a picture in your head of how this looks now because after it's gone you won't remember what it looked like." :)
Hi Jeane. Yes, thankfully, I 'took' many of those over the years, knowing that one day it would be gone. I thought a storm would wreck it, though and not a demolition crew.
Change can be so sad sometimes. But I bet you are glad you had a chance to be there at the end.
Hi Seth. Yes, I was glad that I saw the news and could run there with my camera.
Annie, I think you have found some grand ruins for your camera's eye--nice compositions. We, who find such beauty in the old, don't wish to see it go, but we don't have to be the caretakers of it either. Hope more dreams are made here.
What a sad post. Sometimes 'progress' is questionable. I'm glad you were there too.
So sad Annie. I feel like it's been a long long process of saying goodbye to this old beast. I fondly remember walking home along the seafront, from Brighton to Hove, and it being a marker, once you'd passed it you knew you were closer to home. I remember going down and seeing it after the fire, and the flood and other things that torn at it's heart. I'm still glad I left before it did. But thanks for immortalising the old friend in your words and pictures over the years.
Hi Maggie. Yes, the camera was enjoying new scenes and I know I will enjoy other times there.
Hi Lisa. It would have been too huge a job to save it, I know, so I will enjoy what I can remember.....
Hi Jem. I knew you would have fond memories from when you lived here. Yes, it's been a long goodbye, but I think the damage turned it into a sculpture that inspired much more work than it might have done if it was all done up and pristine.
:-( so sorry about the West Pier -- how many memories and stories went down with that demolition. But it's good that you did capture those images!
Hi Kelly. It's interesting to hear those stories and memories when you have a chat with the neighbours or someone in the paper shop or at the post office.
Wonderful, wonderful photographs... I love the haunting quality of these. And two wins at give-aways! You are the luckiest of lucky...
Hi Patrice. Thank you very much. Pleased you liked these and yes, I was so very lucky with the giveaways.
Post a Comment