San Quentin Point, no. 1 Possibly 1982 - 1985

Lewis Baltz made this gelatin silver print, San Quentin Point, no. 1. The landscape spreads out before us, gray and still. I see a flat plane of dry earth that meets the horizon. A kind of bleak, industrial zone, an emptiness, where the sky presses down with a heavy hand. It’s like, what was he thinking? Was Baltz walking around with his camera, feeling alienated from the world, drawn to the mundane and overlooked corners of urban spaces? This image feels like a metaphor for something, maybe a commentary on the way progress and development can leave behind a trail of desolation. I’m struck by the way Baltz frames the scene. His focus on texture, the dirt, and the details is amazing. It is like a painting, but the textures are real, and the touch of the artist is transferred through the lens of the camera. Artists, like Baltz, have this knack for making us see the world in new ways. I can relate to his critical eye. He’s asking us to consider what is truly important, and what we value in the spaces we inhabit.