Out of the Woods

Birds in Flight over Bunker | Mark Lindsay

"We're not out of the woods!" screamed the local paper's headlines. We're in the middle of drought here in Northern California and the paper seems to be relishing that fact. Never mind that the rain is falling, it isn't enough. And if it were enough, then there'd be floods. LANDSLIDES. Then just wait until fire season. All that rain will mean bad news for firefighters. Lots of growth to burn. Or, if there isn't enough rain that will be bad news also. Lots of dead growth to burn. Any way you look at it we're screwed. All the reporters love to say, no matter the nature of perceived relief, "It's a drop in the bucket." And if they don't say it they unfailingly find someone to quote who will.

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Under the Surface

Subterranean Vents, Marin Headlands | Mark Lindsay

Up in the Marin Headlands, among the ruins of the bunkers and coastal fortifications, one can spot evidence of a subterranean world. There are mounds of dirt, domes of concrete, rusted hatches, and air vents to the underworld. It all seems so hellish, even in its dormancy and ruin. The world is sealed off now, the portals welded shut. One can only imagine the world down there—what it must have been like when solders performed their duty in the dank, concrete world, waiting for an invasion that might or might not ever come.

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Two-by-Two

#29 from the series, Desolation's Comfort | Mark Lindsay

Most of the work I do in photomontage is a mystery. I find photos of enigmatic and interesting characters, live with them, file them, bring them out again, digitize them and restore them. Then one day, one (or more) of the characters speak to me. Then I move them into a new world of my imagination. Years ago they'd probably have medicated me (or maybe worse). Today I'm just an eccentric artist.

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A Report from the Field

Self-Portrait at Bunker, Marin Headlands | Mark Lindsay

I get glued to this computer sometimes. My eyes stuck wide-open, frozen in a blinkless state, I feel like Alex from A Clockwork Orange in the scene where the reprogram him. Only, in my case, I don't have some creepy attendant putting tear solution in my eyes. "Blink!" I tell myself—always too late to do any good. By the time I actually do remember to blink, my eyelids feel like sandpaper.

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Somewhere Beyond the Postcard

Bunker Art, Marin Headlands | Mark Lindsay

I've been busy photographing the batteries and bunkers in the Marin Headlands, just north of San Francisco. Given that San Francisco Bay has been deemed strategic ever since the Spanish moved in, there are layers of military installations around the Golden Gate in order to protect it. The artillery bunkers were mostly established before World War II. By the end of that war it was deemed that the artillery would be useless in the event of an attack by missiles or advanced aircraft. So, the old bunkers were left to ruin.

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