South Bronx
1982 – 1984
Project Concept
In the mid-1970s, an economic downturn combined with complex social and political pressures caused the gradual decline of the South Bronx. By the 1980s, crime, middle-class exodus, fires, and the lack of public services had taken their toll—little was left standing.
The photographs were intended to present an objective, wide-ranging survey of the devastated urban landscape. Images of crumbling architectural facades and dark, fading interiors suggest both Classical and Romantic approaches to ruin and decline.
On a personal level, the landscape seemed not dissimilar to that of the Meadowlands, disserted, quiet, and visually compelling.
History
1982
Began photographing in the South Bronx using a 35mm camera.
1982 - 1984
Continued photographing with both a 35mm camera and a 4x5 view camera.
1984
Assembled and bound LEDGER and NARRATIVE handmade books from 8x10 work prints.
1985
Printed selected interiors in a large size, 50x60 inches, and assembled small handmade books.
1986
Exhibited large interior images at Janet Borden Gallery, New York, NY.
2009
Exhibited vintage prints and handmade books at the Museum of the City of New York, Broken Glass, curated by Sean Corcoran (catalogue with essay).
2009 - 2010
Worked on book maquettes for future publication.
Technical
Cameras
Olympus 35mm OM2 and Vista 4x5 field camera
Lenses
50 mm and 145 mm
Films
Kodak Tech Pan asa 25
Developer
AGFA Rodinal 1:100
Prints
AGFA Brovia
Catalogue Essay – Sean Corcoran
In 1982, when Ray Mortenson began photographing in the neighborhoods of Mott Haven, Morrisania, and Tremont, the South Bronx had hit rock bottom. Several decades of slow population decline were followed by waves of arson and “insurance fires,” leaving behind tough neighborhoods and acres of burned out and abandoned buildings. The neighborhood became the symbol of the urban economic crisis gripping the nation. Literally and figuratively, Mortenson’s photographs reflect the despair of the era through bleak views of deserted city streets and isolated houses with black holes for windows.
Made between 1982 and 1984, these ominous photographs reveal Mortenson’s fascination with the physical structures of the South Bronx, the textures and forms of decay, and their ability to affect mood. The interiors are tomb-like, dust-covered, and somber with the weight of time, resembling archeological sites. Nevertheless, the marks and accoutrements of their former inhabitants are recent. Seen through the prism of the imagination, these jarringly desolate landscapes are not of this world. They provoke anxiety, despite their reserved and almost scientific appearance.
It is the dual nature of photography as both art and documentation that makes Mortenson’s images so compelling. The act of framing and capturing an image from the world is inherently transformative, yet the pictures also provide an important record of a moment in time. This documentary quality is what makes it impossible to detach these images from their historical context. Questions of causation are inevitably raised by these images, challenging previously accepted notions of civil and social progress. How could things get to this point? What political, economic and cultural shifts could lead to such a collapse?
These questions are complex and a matter of contention to this day. Many point to New York City’s mid-20th century master builder, Robert Moses, and the construction of the Cross Bronx Expressway that cut through the heart of the Bronx, displacing thousands. However, broader forces, including suburbanization, white flight, the economic crisis of the 1970s, and the growth of urban poverty are equally to blame. In this regard, the images do not presume to give answers.
The photographs on view stand in stark contrast to today’s revitalized neighborhood. A successful resurrection of the South Bronx began in the mid-1980s, as grassroots organizations and community development corporations, along with financial reinvestment by the City, sparked its regeneration. Mortenson’s images serve as a reminder of the ruins that once dominated these now-vibrant streets, but above all, they stress how fragile the balance between prosperity and urban decline can be.
— Sean Corcoran
Curator of Prints and Photographs – Museum of the City of New York
The Message
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five
Written by: Clifton ‘’Jiggs’’ Chase, Sylvia Robinson, Duke Bootee & Grandmaster Melle Mel
Release Date: July 1, 1982
[Intro: Duke Bootee]
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
[Verse 1: Melle Mel]
Broken glass everywhere
People pissing on the stairs, you know they just don't care
I can’t take the smell, can’t take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away, but I couldn’t get far
’Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car
[Chorus: Melle Mel]
Don’t push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
Ah-huh-huh-huh-huh
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
[Verse 2: Melle Mel]
Standing on the front stoop, hanging out the window
Watching all the cars go by, roaring as the breezes blow
A crazy lady livin’ in a bag
Eating out of garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she’ll dance the tango, skip the light fandango
A zircon princess, seemed to lost her senses
Down at the peep show watching all the creeps
So she can tell her stories to the girls back home
She went to the city and got so, so saditty
She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own
[Chorus: Melle Mel]
Don't push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
Ah-huh-huh-huh-huh
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
[Verse 3: Duke Bootee]
My brother’s doing bad, stole my mother's TV
Says she watches too much, it’s just not healthy
All My Children in the daytime, Dallas at night
Can’t even see the game or the Sugar Ray fight
The bill collectors, they ring my phone
And scare my wife when I'm not home
Got a bum education, double-digit inflation
Can't take the train to the job, there's a strike at the station
Neon King Kong standing on my back
Can't stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think I’m going insane, I swear I might hijack a plane
[Chorus: Duke Bootee]
Don't push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
[Verse 4: Duke Bootee]
My son said, “Daddy, I don't wanna go to school
’Cause the teacher's a jerk, he must think I'm a fool
And all the kids smoke reefer, I think it’d be cheaper
If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper
Or dance to the beat, shuffle my feet
Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps
’Cause it's all about money, ain’t a damn thing funny
You got to have a con in this land of milk and honey
They pushed that girl in front of the train
Took her to the doctor, sewed her arm on again
Stabbed that man right in his heart
Gave him a transplant for a brand new start
I can't walk through the park ‘cause it’s crazy after dark
Keep my hand on my gun 'cause they got me on the run
I feel like a outlaw, broke my last glass jaw
Hear them say, ‘You want some more?’ Livin’ on a see-saw’
[Chorus: Duke Bootee]
Don't push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head (Say what?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
[Verse 5: Melle Mel]
A child is born with no state of mind
Blind to the ways of mankind
God is smiling on you, but he's frowning too
Because only God knows what you’ll go through
You'll grow in the ghetto living second-rate
And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alleyway
You'll admire all the number-book takers
Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers
Driving big cars, spending twenties and tens
And you wanna grow up to be just like them, huh
Smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers
Pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers
You say, “I’m cool, huh, I'm no fool”
But then you wind up droppin' out of high school
Now you're unemployed, all null and void
Walking ‘round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd
Turned stick-up kid, but look what you done did
Got sent up for a eight-year bid
Now your manhood is took and you're a maytag
Spend the next two years as a undercover fag
Being used and abused to serve like hell
’Til one day you was found hung dead in the cell
It was plain to see that your life was lost
You was cold and your body swung back and forth
But now your eyes sing the sad, sad song
Of how you lived so fast and died so young, so
[Chorus: Melle Mel]
Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head
Ah-huh-huh-huh-huh
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Huh, ah-huh-huh-huh-huh
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Huh, ah-huh-huh-huh-huh