Not Ruin Porn: #fixerupperdetroit photos in the middle

For those of you who haven't heard the phrase "ruin porn," let me educate you:

The term is used to refer to photos taken, especially in Detroit and other Rust Belt cities, that emphasize the decay and decadence of formerly beautiful structures. Michigan Central Station is sort of the quintessential ruin porn subject because it was so, so grand to begin with - enormous, elegant, luxurious - and then became abandoned, scrapped, vacant (click the link to see a Google image search to prove my point).

The original intention of this post, from months ago when we were still in the #househuntersdetroit phase, was to show you how photographers create that haunting, tragic ruin porn feel. I don't know if there's still money in setting up these types of images. I hope that part of the Detroit story is played out - although if someone wants to do a series on the tragedy that is Detroit Public Schools and the non-vacant ruins children still learn in, in order to promote and finance improvements, have at it.

Overall, though, ruin porn doesn't tell the whole story of the city, isn't empowering to residents, and in some ways, appeals to the worst of human nature: the twisted satisfaction from seeing what was once beautiful now broken, corrupted, destroyed.

So I thought that I was going to have a photographer friend take a few examples of #fixerupperdetroit and set them to look like ruin porn to prove a point. I figured that after demolition and before renovation would be the best time. How hard could it be to get the bones of my house to look sad?

My friend Nick Fenton met me at the house recently to take a series of photographs. I explained what I was trying to do, and he's been following the story for a while. I told him about our plans for each room and our goal for the home overall.

I picked the wrong photographer for this project.

Not because the photos aren't amazing.

They are.

But because Nick got the story too well. He was able to see the potential, the resolution of the story. He, like me, doesn't see the house as ruined. And his art reflects the story that we see in this house.

Sure, she's in a rough spot right now, as you can see here:

Kitchen - only the bones left (and not even some of those) - she's down to the subfloor, the shiplap, the studs, and a little insulation.

A view of the kitchen from the dining room. The view through this cutout sets up a juxtaposition, since we're doing very little to the dining room right now even though the kitchen is a total rehab.

The flip side of that juxtaposition. You can see how little we've done to the dining room compared to the kitchen.

The stairs are likely getting new floor and a new banister, and you can maybe see in the very corner where a new lavatory will go, but again, look how much of the living room will stay as-is.

Here you can see the stairs, stripped down to the original hardwood (now cracked and splintered in a few spots), next to the demolition in the kitchen and the spot we've prepped for the new lavatory.

I love the perspective on this one. Here you're looking through the space we've demo'ed in preparation for the lavatory. The hallway is in rough shape right now, but you still catch a glimpse of our gorgeous bay window and high living room ceiling.

This is the boiler room in our basement. The boiler has been replaced, and new boilers are much more efficient and therefore smaller, so the room is awkward and a little creepy - but I defy you to find a basement utility room that isn't a little scary. We'll be fixing a lot of the hookups in here, and some parts of the heating system have been repaired since about a week after we purchased.

Even in the photos that show the worst conditions, I can't see anything but potential. I don't get that haunting, sad, frightened feeling that certain images of the train station or old theaters give. I can't imagine any amount of editing will evoke that. Maybe that's because I love #fixerupperdetroit so much and am still so deeply grateful to have been able to purchase a home this wonderful. Maybe I'm an eternal optimist.

And then there are the other photos. The ones that would never be ruin porn, because there's absolutely nothing ruined in them. Have a look:

This is a family room/study in the basement. We're pretty sure that fireplace is hooked up for gas, and the built-ins are in solid shape. A new valve on the ceiling radiator, and all this room needs is a deep clean, lamps, and lounge furniture.

This will be Rebecca's study when the home is finished. Some of the doors need a little work, and a few panes of glass must be replaced, but the room doesn't need a true rehab.

This is the upstairs full bath. It's been redone since the house was built, so it isn't original. Someday, I'd like to restore it to a more late 1920s feel. But it needs only minor cosmetic and plumbing work for the most part (except that a new sewer line will have to be run, since the sewer lines hadn't been replaced since 1928, and it's time).

This is the attic. It needs insulation and probably new windows, but again, it's a great space with only some minor work. When it's done, it will be a guest bedroom and small office area designed to hold a couple and a small child. My mother-in-law is taking the lead on decorating this space - stay tuned.

Remember how I said we're not doing anything major to the dining room? Or Rebecca's study? This gives you a sense of how much of the ground floor will be staying more or less as-is. (Photograph taken standing in the living room and looking through to Rebecca's bay window.)

This photograph is taken standing in Rebecca's office and looking through the dining room toward the living room bay window. Notice the pile of boards on the floor on the right side? That's trim that Rebecca managed to save during demolition, so that we can add back some of the original elements once we near the end of the renovation. Also, yes, a snow shovel! We had to buy one to clear the sidewalk. Since we've always rented before, we never needed one. Also great for picking up tiny chunks of plaster from the floor . . .

We're not in the beginning of this story, when the house was new and Detroit was booming. If this house could talk, I have a feeling she'd tell you that she belongs to the Club to Whom the Unimaginable is Now Imaginable - she's been through a lot.

But she's not done. She's not ruined. She was waiting for her story to pick up again. These photos prove that she's in the middle of the story and doesn't know her ending yet.

That reminds me: I'm not ruined either.