Waiting for a train
Rusting mesh, decaying old factory wall, crowds passing. The posters appear and bloom like new mushrooms after a shower of rain. Always there and always changing.
What struck me in this moment, what caused me to pause and record this image is how somehow the entirety of our marketed lives is compressed into it. The message is always new. Pasted over accumulating layers of the not current. Again and again, the past accumulating forgotten beneath. Disappearing from your attention.
And the constant lure of the new. The powerful driving deliberate sexuality of the image that slides so easily into your subconscious. And how once there unnoticed it steers you. And all is to a sale. To a desired action by you.
And in a moment you have moved on. On to the next of thousands of marketing messages you will absorb each day. Messages that from birth are like rain and that colour your entire life.
Yet behind this newest the old wall continues in its inexorable decay. But this is of no matter for we do not see this silent backdrop to our lives.
What struck me in this moment, what caused me to pause and record this image is how somehow the entirety of our marketed lives is compressed into it. The message is always new. Pasted over accumulating layers of the not current. Again and again, the past accumulating forgotten beneath. Disappearing from your attention.
And the constant lure of the new. The powerful driving deliberate sexuality of the image that slides so easily into your subconscious. And how once there unnoticed it steers you. And all is to a sale. To a desired action by you.
And in a moment you have moved on. On to the next of thousands of marketing messages you will absorb each day. Messages that from birth are like rain and that colour your entire life.
Yet behind this newest the old wall continues in its inexorable decay. But this is of no matter for we do not see this silent backdrop to our lives.
Ref:
Date:
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Photographer:
Waiting for a train
Rusting mesh, decaying old factory wall, crowds passing. The posters appear and bloom like new mushrooms after a shower of rain. Always there and always changing.
What struck me in this moment, what caused me to pause and record this image is how somehow the entirety of our marketed lives is compressed into it. The message is always new. Pasted over accumulating layers of the not current. Again and again, the past accumulating forgotten beneath. Disappearing from your attention.
And the constant lure of the new. The powerful driving deliberate sexuality of the image that slides so easily into your subconscious. And how once there unnoticed it steers you. And all is to a sale. To a desired action by you.
And in a moment you have moved on. On to the next of thousands of marketing messages you will absorb each day. Messages that from birth are like rain and that colour your entire life.
Yet behind this newest the old wall continues in its inexorable decay. But this is of no matter for we do not see this silent backdrop to our lives.
What struck me in this moment, what caused me to pause and record this image is how somehow the entirety of our marketed lives is compressed into it. The message is always new. Pasted over accumulating layers of the not current. Again and again, the past accumulating forgotten beneath. Disappearing from your attention.
And the constant lure of the new. The powerful driving deliberate sexuality of the image that slides so easily into your subconscious. And how once there unnoticed it steers you. And all is to a sale. To a desired action by you.
And in a moment you have moved on. On to the next of thousands of marketing messages you will absorb each day. Messages that from birth are like rain and that colour your entire life.
Yet behind this newest the old wall continues in its inexorable decay. But this is of no matter for we do not see this silent backdrop to our lives.
Ref:
Date:
Location:
Photographer:
THOUGHT
Waiting for a train
Rusting mesh, decaying old factory wall, crowds passing. The posters appear and bloom like new mushrooms after a shower of rain. Always there and always changing.
What struck me in this moment, what caused me to pause and record this image is how somehow the entirety of our marketed lives is compressed into it. The message is always new. Pasted over accumulating layers of the not current. Again and again, the past accumulating forgotten beneath. Disappearing from your attention.
And the constant lure of the new. The powerful driving deliberate sexuality of the image that slides so easily into your subconscious. And how once there unnoticed it steers you. And all is to a sale. To a desired action by you.
And in a moment you have moved on. On to the next of thousands of marketing messages you will absorb each day. Messages that from birth are like rain and that colour your entire life.
Yet behind this newest the old wall continues in its inexorable decay. But this is of no matter for we do not see this silent backdrop to our lives.
What struck me in this moment, what caused me to pause and record this image is how somehow the entirety of our marketed lives is compressed into it. The message is always new. Pasted over accumulating layers of the not current. Again and again, the past accumulating forgotten beneath. Disappearing from your attention.
And the constant lure of the new. The powerful driving deliberate sexuality of the image that slides so easily into your subconscious. And how once there unnoticed it steers you. And all is to a sale. To a desired action by you.
And in a moment you have moved on. On to the next of thousands of marketing messages you will absorb each day. Messages that from birth are like rain and that colour your entire life.
Yet behind this newest the old wall continues in its inexorable decay. But this is of no matter for we do not see this silent backdrop to our lives.
