Through cultural osmosis it's become something we can all identify with - the 'badlands' of New Jersey. The poisonous brown swamp that flashes past in the opening credits of The Sopranos, reeds and factories, chimneys and motels. Fly-tipping and gangster hits. The footnote of the city, where the toxins of the metropolis bleed from its porous edge. We have our own badlands too, of course, in our Thames Estuary, and also in the gypsy-raddled wastes that stretch out past Uxbridge. I've been toying with buying a photobook, by Joshua Lutz, of the new jersey badlands (which apparently are actually called The Meadowlands) for my coffee table, I really enjoy these spooky, lonely photos.
(click on images for a bit higher res)