a decade documenting the death of buildings: a personal journey through 10 years of salvaging

going into 2016 marks an important milestone for urban remains, a milestone representing a sometimes arduous, surprising and notably transformative journey full of wonder, beauty and not a few dangerous exploits. i have now spent over a decade salvaging, archiving and compiling an enormous repository of data on a variety of artifacts from buildings. dying, decaying, often forgotten buildings, those with historic significance, and many that are tragically under-researched.

these buildings no longer exist complete, intact, in physical form. while reflecting on my decade of documenting, i realize it is because of a nearly fanatical devotion to salvaging these works of art, with an undying persistence, that today, the online store of this once humble business has surpassed 24,000 artifacts, cataloged in extensive detail, both in imagery and description. i rarely feel excessively proud of these accomplishments; this massive effort hasn’t been easy, and looking at the experience as a collective whole, there’s been perpetual toil and disappointments along with transformation, great discoveries coupled with extreme physical and mental costs. the price of love and passion.

ten years ago, i lived the life of a scientist, working on genetic mouse models at the university of chicago and calling the hyde park neighborhood of chicago home. i spent years on the science track, years conducting research, years with a colony of genetically altered mice, developing an arsenal of behavioral essays designed around quantifying their movements.

and then something quite inexplicable happened and my life as a scientist came to a screeching halt.

i realized I no longer wanted to do this.

the break in my career track was an anxious one, but i thought i would take a risk to give my undying passion for salvaging 19th century architecture a go, at least for a year or so. i distinctly remember being overly concerned that, should i return to that world more than a year later, my curriculum vitae would have accumulated too much dust, appear thin, to the point where my biomethods, laboratory skills and research would no longer be as relevant or up to date if i decided to ditch my dream and reenter academia.

thankfully, those concerns were fleeting, and once i was fully immersed in the world of "urban remains" i never looked back. not ever. not once. i knew i had found that inner-strength and the kind of certainty that people speak of when they say: “that guy has a calling.” it’s a powerful single-mindedness that can transform a passion into a lifelong quest -- for better or worse. for me, the big dream, the one i couldn’t shake? to thoroughly document and rescue ornament from buildings facing the wrecking ball.

unfortunately, my new occupation also entailed de-prioritizing my emotional and physical health. my body, mind, and lifestyle all changed as a result of this fork-in-the-road decision.  if i could go back and have a conversation with the younger me from ten years ago, i’m not altogether sure what advice i would give to my future self. perhaps i'd remind myself that there is a world outside of the business and to remember to breathe. i can easily imagine a hundred things i wish i'd done differently. whether i would have taken any of it seriously back then - well, i doubt that very much. because, when i am immersed in sequential, never-ending salvages, it becomes hard to see much outside of this work. since childhood, in fact, i’ve been told that i view life in black-and-white, and that i had trouble navigating the "gray area." but there are benefits of having a personality that can become consumed by a passion and completely engrossed: the ability to focus for long stretches and delve to investigate deeper, more exhaustively, at more levels of complexity. to sift, collect and sort through piles of information, ephemera and arcana which tell the story about these ghostly artifacts.

i would, though, be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that throughout the years of this business, this unwavering dedication has also meant making uncompromising commitments, devoting long days and nights to exacting work full of tedium, work that is draining, depleting precious energy reserves from mind and body. salvaging is beautiful, yes. satisfying? yes. and totally unforgiving.

the darkest chapters in this past decade have been when i lost steam from injury. without momentum, i felt uninspired, anxious, lost, depressed. on the other hand, the highlights of my work have been when i was soaring with unbridled motivation, and felt nothing could get in my way. in that state of mind, i would risk everything to capture a pivotal photograph, and go to extremes to salvage any and all ornament that might be important in representing the architectural merit of a given building or house. in this, i identify with people like richard nickel, whose drive to revisit demolition sites again and again, to save more and more material, trumped the danger or risk to one's life. sadly, nickel lost his while salvaging the chicago stock exchange.

i certainly have had scary "close calls" myself, and since i am still here, i am now gradually learning to accept a necessary, albeit alien, process of simply letting go or walking away if the risks are too great. even in this new-found pursuit of balance, i am wary of reducing my efforts too much. it might sound crazy, but i fear i will suffer guilt over not documenting or rescuing materials facing destruction. but again, just thinking over a decade of this inner turmoil reminds me of being terribly exhausted from chasing time...

now, more than ever, i realize how these persistent inner conflicts are fueled by a negative energy, for instance: witnessing the slow and painful death of a building. and of course, there’s excruciating physical pain -- especially during times when i've had to crawl out of bed with debilitating, screaming torment emanating from multiple damaged discs in my back. and yet, during my lengthy recoveries (and i’ve had many over the years) i'm always amazed at how my thoughts quickly transform and return to intensely positive and productive fantastical obsessions: i think about and visualize demolition sites, excavations, salvaging ornament, researching building materials.

it seems impossible to extinguish this inner-flame.

i realize more than ever that it is crucial not to work myself to death. though sometimes i've had to learn this lesson the hard way -- being forced to slow down -- this re-calibration may actually provide the necessary tools or insight to stay on this path and wend through another decade of urban remains. with a mindset and my approach to business now filled with more caution and patience, with less stress and greater clarity of mind, i can thoroughly document the death of a building, being more methodical than ever. i could elaborate on the lessons learned and wisdom gained in greater detail (perhaps in the form of a book) but i'd rather not trigger a great deal of stress through synthesizing regrets and disasters.

instead this "anniversary" is a time for me to relax and bask in what small contributions and triumphs i have managed to make to the field of historic building preservation. overall, i’ve recovered a massive amount of historic building remnants, photo-documenting each process and compiling narratives to help assign and articulate meaning to all that has been lost. i can only hope that i continue to save as much, until i can no longer carry the torch i imagine has been handed to me by richard nickel and tim samuelson.

if my body of work can show future generations the great sense of loss in terms of our architectural heritage, that these buildings still live within the artifacts salvaged, that great stories are told within these sometimes fragile pieces, then i feel i have done my part.