Las Vegas
by Andreas Schmidt
Las Vegas is a city with a skyrocketing population, one defined by pavement, neon lights and a grandeur that often flirts between extravagant and gaudy. It is a city of paradoxes - a place where the homeless, churchgoers and environmentalists mingle at all hours with gamblers, drinkers and plastic surgeons.
But German-born photographer Andreas Schmidt strips away this sense of glamour and excitement by exposing a frighteningly perfect yet lonely side of this desert-sprung city. His work offers no apologies for this visual analysis but instead seeks to capture a more surreal interpretation.
This collection, therefore, offers no backstage pass to the more illicit side of Vegas. There are no scenes of an old man gambling, a scantily clad woman dancing on a brightly lit stage or a teenager wandering down one of Vegas' many dilapidated streets. Schmidt's work focuses purely on architecture and light.
The focus of his untitled photographs illuminates these quiet and simplistic moments. The idea that Vegas is a city where one's luck can change with the flip of a card, the roll of a dice, is deliberately ignored in his series of photographs. Instead, he highlights the empty spaces, the endless rows of bare hotel corridors - eerily perfect and equally indistinguishable.
There is a jarring, almost unsettling quality to this six-piece hallway series. The passageways appear to stretch forward - without an end insight. The images haunt and linger.
Similarly, a photograph of an empty street suddenly appears strange and unfamiliar without the sight of dozens of rushing cars and pedestrians. The steel panels of the window frame the stillness and highlight a moment of disquieting emptiness in a city that prides itself of never sleeping.
In a collection of endless images of bright lights, dashing cars and interchangeable hallways, a single photograph of a large willow tree becomes a compelling portrait. The neon light of a barely visible sign peeks through its numerous branches, giving it an almost unearthly glow.
Text by Christina Erb.