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.
While Las Vegas' Maryland Parkway was once known both for its new university and thriving retail (a commercial that ran until the 1990s asked the hypothetical "What can compare to Maryland Square?", a now-defunct strip mall whose only remaining business is a drug treatment center), economic prosperity has now largely left the area in blight, marked largely by the preponderance of garbage and decay along its path.
A Walking Tour of Maryland Parkway mixes the facts and fictions of this area into a catalog of the degradation on the road that leads from McCarran Airport and—both literally and figuratively—goes downhill from there.