All goes...

I drove through Bloomfield, New Mexico hundreds of times during the nineteen seventies, eighties and nineties and probably twenty of those times I stopped to poke around an abandoned auto junkyard.  I loved the lost and forgotten splendor of those classy behemoths parked on a patch of high desert scrub and spent many happy hours exploring this run down monument to steel, fins and chrome from America's 'post-war' plunge into gas guzzling and comfortable wanderlust.

I made some interesting images but somehow the light and conditions were never quite right to produce the photographs I wanted.  Then a barely visible piece of weathered plywood appeared.  'All Goes' was spray-painted crudely on it, as well as a phone number that I called countless times.  Finally I reached an old man's voice that could only shout back, "What?" and "I can't hear you… I can't hear you…" until the line went dead.  Sure I coveted hood ornaments and chrome script but even more I wanted to make a document worthy of something I found timelessly beautiful and about to disappear.

Good fortune came my way and my next journey through Bloomfield found a rare overcast and drizzly afternoon, perfect for Tri-X.  I parked behind a juniper and went to work, happy to find myself alone and without a pressing schedule.  By the time the light began to fade, my last frame of film was exposed.  These images were all made on that final visit.

The next time I passed by, anything of vintage or scrap value was gone.  The site had the look of a toothless mouth trying to remember a forgotten feast.  Ironically, earthmovers later leveled the trees and ground for some sort of new gas field support operation.

All goes... now gone.