Sean Schumacher (b. 1986) retells stories through breadcrumbs, trailing hints about an ignored or forgotten past, the whispered half-truths of secrets and rumors, or fleeting narratives told through equally temporary means. Through copious research, unusual applications of everyday technologies, and added humor, he provides viewers a sense of the moments, places, and narratives that have been lost, or are simply going unnoticed around them.

Having grown up in Las Vegas before relocating to pursue a graduate degree, Schumacher’s most recent work explores these themes through his unique hometown—a place with a short history unpreserved, a built landscape repeatedly razed, and a population that has consisted for most of its history of long-term tourists shifting ever-further from any area with the slightest hint of age. Seeking an understanding of the city’s urban fabric as a whole through an investigation of maps, property surveys, and place names left displaced by the implosion of casinos and the abandonment of neighborhoods, he seeks an understanding of what being a local means when the person and the place are altered by distance and destruction, and what damage the ideals of the twentieth century’s disdain for the past had on its disposable locality.

Sean Schumacher

Huntridge

Spire
Lee's historic, neon-lit spire sits dark.

Designed by the Los Angeles' premiere theater designer, S. Charles Lee, the Huntridge Theater was meant to be a bright, shining monument to cinema in a town that, at the time, was almost exclusively flat. Years of neglect, poor planning, and several roof collapses have left the historic structure in an extreme state of disrepair, and without a definite future.

Huntridge, a photo essay collected in book form, attempted to catalog the state of that decay five years after the last active part of the building structure closed, and the CineVegas film festival that was partly borne from there had ended as well. The Huntridge remains one of the few pieces of truly classic architecture remaining in the city, and may soon suffer the fate of its similarly-historic cinematic bretheren in the city.

Lock on the main gates
The main gates are locked, separating the doors from the rest of the street.
Homeless encampment
Homeless Las Vegans have even abandoned the building, now that many of the items of value have been stolen. This site, which faces busy Charleston, hasn't been occupied in at least a year.
Roof rubble
Rubble from the last roof collapse bulges from every portion of the enclosed area.
Kentucky Trailers sign
Aborted construction projects similarly mar the site.
Wall
Sign
Underwear
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