Today was the funeral of the Lloyd Center.

Historically, what was once Oregon’s largest mall had slipped into an era of decline first induced by the internet and mass shopping, and then double-tapped by the pandemic. And though the last few years had stores continually shutter, rents in the mall had plummeted too, enabling a bunch of indie stores and pop-up businesses to occupy about a third of the storefronts. The place was also used as a meeting point for many clubs, because sometimes the rent was just that cheap, free, or even not required: bridge, chess, zines, and many others made this moribund corpse their home.

It was the decaying essence of nineties capitalism, but it was also a good home to community and bootleg scrappy folks trying to get by. And it had a kickass ice skating rink right there in central Portland.

So today was Lloyd Center’s last day open. People as far as the eye can see, thousands and thousands. The food court was descended upon by anyone who could snatch a table and sell some art they brought with them. Adorable queers of all the stripes, as far as the eye can see. Concerts, dance parties, skateboarders, a stand-up comic shouting herself raw about how Dave Chapelle is a hack, lines for a hundred meters for the last caramel corn and the last burger joint, ice skating by anyone, tours of the mall, anyone with a sharpie had started marking up the place, and photographers everywhere, including yours truly.

For this one last day, with not a single anchor store affixed to the mall, and with the largest store in the mall being a local graphic novel shop, Lloyd Center was alive, pushed along to the anarchistic fray that it would have eventually become in the end.

The picture I present before you here is my attempt at bringing some futurism to the place, a carefully angled and composed shot that took me about a half hour of waiting until all the people were in the right position, while I stood there patiently. Here we have some sci-fi renaissance, envisioning this space as a sort of utopia that it will never become.

I hope you enjoy it.

This work means quite a lot to me.