Thoughts drift to New Orleans photographer Clarence John Laughlin who seems largely forgotten despite his immense talent. I discovered his work maybe 3-4 years ago bur recognized in him a kindred soul. In the ether of New Orleans creatives I believe my work is in his lineage. His pictures were of a time when the city was transitioning into the most modern version of itself, leaving behind scraps of its former style but remnants decayed and beautiful enough to rebel against the homogeny of what was to come.

The heap that was Storyville and the grand architecture of ruins no longer existing framed his work in a way that arouses envy from me. I struggle to find these ruins, which is progress for a city slowly sinking into the mire that has kept it standing for over 300 years. But still I fawn over the French Quarter and its surrounding neighborhoods and the debris of driftwood that collects at the River’s bank where sometimes pieces of ancient homes from upriver mix into the broken flotsam of cypress trees and oak — all that remains of truly old Louisiana or at least that which is available to me.

I go out with my camera in search of these scraps of history and return mostly with failure. I occasionaly hit something truly special, which emerges. I hold these images dearly. I will never abandon these quests to uncover the past; its pursuit rewards me with exercise and a new lesson. Every time I go deeper because it’s still out there, waiting for fresh eyes to appreciate its glory.

I’ve included his images below. I hope you appreciate his work as I have, especially considering how relevant his photographs appear in this era.

Thoughts on Clarence John Laughlin

Books of New Orleans for Research and Pleasure (PART 2)