Punk Rock Art Photos: "Dead Malls Don't Talk Back (Take II)"

<Take I The Squawker>

"Once more, with feeling..." Depending on your age, you'll either associate this lyrical sentiment with Buffy The Vampire Slayer ("But I can't find my sweet release/Let me rest in peace") or Kris Kristofferson ("Let's try it once more with feeling, and we'll call it a day"). But either way, it seemed like an appropriate backdrop for our return to the dead mall that The Squawker and I last visited in September.

The resulting photo essay sparked one of our best-received posts, so here we are again, this time, starting with the fading JC Penney sign on the right side. Basically, this is the rear view, as you're driving around the property. Its closing last summer left this area without a JC Penney for the first time in nearly a century, locals told us.

<Take II: The Squawker>

As we continue our drive around the property, we stopped behind this rear entrance. Note the overgrown grass now sprouting through the cracks in the parking lot. Apparently, regular maintenance is no longer a consistent feature, or else, it's been scaled back -- either for budgetary reasons, or there aren't people to do it regularly.

<Take III: The Squawker>

Here's a closeup view of that rear entrance, as The Squawker shot it. We briefly debated going inside, and nosing around, but decided against it, because our afternoon to-do list still beckoned. As you see, though, the grass is growing thickest and longest near the entrance, but doesn't show any distinct signs of regular maintenance.

<Take IV: The Squawker>

Here's a longer view of the rear parking lot, so you can get a sense of how far the grass has grown, and how empty it looks. On this particular day, on this side of the mall, we didn't see a single car parked here. As we drove back towards the main road circling the mall, we counted roughly two to three dozen cars, most of them belonging to the people still working here. How long that will last, who knows?

<Take V: The Squawker>

Swinging back around the left side, we came across this bygone anchor store, Carson's, that shut down in spring 2018, according to the locals. Our camera lens was giving us fits -- hence, the black shapes in the corner -- but I liked the effect, so I didn't crop them out. But you can see plainly enough that the C in the store's name is gone, now long reclaimed by the elements.

<Take VI: The Squawker>

Here's the defunct entrance for the defunct Carson's. The name itself is the newer version of Carson, Pirie, Scott & Company, whose ads I remember well as a child growing up. They always closed with the original name, ooh--oohed and ahhed over a light jazz background ("Carson, Pirie, Scott..."), followed by the tagline, spoken largely by itself ("AND Com-pany!"). That was in the '70s, of course, long before the American Dream withered off the vine for most people.

<Take VII: The Squawker>

Here's the parking lot in front of the dead Carson's store, as overgrown as the rest of the property. As you see, there's plenty of cracks in the surface, and -- though not apparent in this shot -- there's lots of potholes, too. So many, in fact, you'll feel like you're driving over a lunar landscape. Needless to say, it pays to go slow here.

<Take VIII: The Squawker>

And so, we end as began our original photo essay, with the shuttered Sears, and the truck standing in front of the now-defunct loading dock, its battered door still dangling open, waiting in vain for someone to finally shut it, and send it on its way.

The dishwasher that stood nearby, forgotten and forlorn, is finally gone, its place now taken by a yawning pile of dead brush. When will anybody clear it? Who knows? All that's left, it seems, is the tumbleweed rolling down the street, while the wind whistles in the distance. This is the sound of America today, the opposite face of the recovery that's being touted in established news outlets. 

Yes, the economy is working, but for what, and for whom? That is the question that looms large over landscapes like this one. When this mall finally closes, they'll blame specters ranging from the e-commerce boom, to the toughest retail climate seen  in 30 years, or a withering local economy. 

The subtleties will undoubtedly feel lost on those having to find new jobs or locations for their businesses, as these words from Kris Kristofferson ringing in their ears: "'Cause somehow, darlin', something good/Got lost along the way/And our song ain't nothing/Special anymore."  The Reckoner