Today we are very excited to be featuring one of our favorite Brooklyn-based (and native) photographers, Ray Ciborowski, who goes by earthmagnified on Flickr. He is known for capturing beautiful images of forgotten places and exotic lands and has an exceptional talent at doing both. Ray is blessed with not only a great eye, but also a keen sense of wanderlust that has driven him to travel the world and capture its not-often-seen beauty. Definitely take the time to go through his photostream after reading the interview; there are so many amazing images and we didn’t even begin to scratch the surface here. Enjoy!

For the Love of Brooklyn: How did you first get into photography and what is it about the art that drives you?

Ray Ciborowski: When I was a little boy, I had one of those long thin cameras with the film cartridge that’s rolled at both ends. I used to take it on school trips to the museum or the zoo so I could show my mom where I went. I loved the sound it made after you took a picture and you had to wind the film for the next shot. I remember I was always playing with little gadgets that made some sort of sound. When I was maybe 17, my grandmother gave me her old Olympus and I started shooting random things, trying different films. I had no idea what I was doing. Then, in my early 20′s, I bought my first Minolta a few weeks before my very first trip abroad. I basically learned as I went.

Photography can be so different based on the person behind the lens. For me it’s always been about documenting and reinterpreting what already exists. I don’t create much in my photographs. I prefer not to stage anything, but instead, I simply wish to preserve my scenes in silent moments, hopefully with a somewhat original perspective. Be it the elaborate or the most mundane of subjects, I try to give the subject the attention I feel it deserves, just as a portrait photographer might give to another person.

I love looking at other people’s pictures too. I find so much inspiration that way to continue shooting, realizing that there’s always more out there to see and capture.

LoB: You’ve traveled all over the world and captured a variety of places in such interesting ways; as a native Brooklynite, how has growing up in Brooklyn shaped the way you look at the world?

RC: Growing up in Brooklyn in the 70′s & 80′s, I, like most people, thought I was in the best place in the world. Of course, the fact that I was right! Brooklyn was, and is magnificent. It has always been exciting to me. My early version, filled with playing in open hydrants, stickball, and carrying excessively large radios down the street, is perhaps a bit different from the more recent developments in Williamsburg or Greenpoint.

The diversity here certainly added to a sense of wonderment about foreign peoples and places when I was young. I grew up in a large apartment complex and played with lots of kids from the building. Everyone had really different backgrounds that seemed to disappear while we played. Even more than that however, it was my grandmother’s World Book encyclopedias that piqued my interest the most. I used to visit her house frequently and I always found myself sitting on her porch with one of those books in my hand. I enjoyed reading about countries the most, and I remember particularly liking all of the different flags.

When I was in my very early 20’s, I began studying art history and going to lots of museums including the Brooklyn Museum. It all somehow fit together. I would start traveling to look at art, learn new places and meet new people. All with camera in hand.

LoB: You’ve mentioned that you tend to take photos everywhere but Brooklyn, and that when you do shoot in Brooklyn it’s a bit of a different experience. Can you elaborate on that?

RC: Well I love Brooklyn to the core. My whole life has been spent here. When I first got into photography I used to only shoot when I went somewhere. It was about documenting an unfamiliar place and bringing visual memories back. Nothing unique with that philosophy. When I started traveling frequently, I’d always look forward to the pictures I’d get and I’d dread the ones I’d miss. I just began associating photography with being somewhere else as opposed to being at home. To this day, I’ve stuck to that general premise with most of my stuff.

I know Brooklyn well. It is inherently part of who I am and for better or worse, my desire to photograph it has been strangely absent. The streets, the people, that intangible vibe that all NY natives have about this great borough and city…I think my emotional involvement with Brooklyn may not translate as well behind my lens. I guess I’d just rather FEEL it than shoot it. I hope that makes some semblance of sense. Maybe I’m thinking too much about the process. Maybe it’s just that I’m too busy exploring other places. Perhaps I’m not confident enough to capture it with the love it deserves. Realistically, there’s truth in all of those statements. Everyone has their quirks. This is just one of mine I guess.

I do have work from Brooklyn though. Some beach fragments from Coney Island, a graffiti segment from Red Hook, and of course some of Brooklyn’s abandoned places.

LoB: One of the major themes in your photography is the documentation of abandoned locations. What first drew you to that form of exploration and photography, and what guides your research when you look for these types of places?

RC: It came upon me all of a sudden, when I was certainly not looking for it. I was researching an overseas trip when I stumbled upon a picture from the old abandoned Airport in Flushing Queens. It was a magnificent shot… a bright red, graffiti-covered fuel truck half-submerged in water. It was captivating, but I thought, there’s no airport in Flushing. After doing some searching on the internet, I come to find that there was an airport there that now sits abandoned, fenced off where no one would ever know. I went exploring there the very next day. I felt like I had found something no one else knew about. Old hangers, a flooded runway, and the red fuel truck peering her headlights out above the water. (This location has since been razed). I was hooked.

There are so many types of abandonment out there, especially here in the Northeast. All easy striking distance from a Brooklyn base. Industrial, institutional and educational sites are the most common. Here in Brooklyn, the Grain Elevator down in Red Hook resonates pretty strongly with me. My dad & I used to drive past it when I was a little kid, and I always wondered what was inside. Coincidentally, it was abandoned just about the same time I was born. It’s been a few years now since I’ve shot the building from the inside. It was certainly worth the wait.

As far as research goes, there are dozens of ways to start finding places that have been abandoned, but for the most part, let’s just say you have to love looking at maps. Aerial view, bird’s eye, street view, all on Google maps, must become your best friends.

LoB: With your Urban Exploration photos, you manage to capture the beauty of decay within the spaces you visit. The viewer can see a strong consistency in the way you take these photos and they always show a great respect for the place and bring out their hidden greatness. What goes through your head as you take these photos and what kind of connection do you feel to the locations?

RC: I’ve always loved the solitary, places where I can hear the silence. I enjoy looking at things optimistically, seeing the possibilities in the empty rather than in the full. This ties into urban exploration quite nicely. Most people view decay as some form of death. I see it as rebirth. An organic transformation back to the beginning, before man was involved.

Being on site can be surreal, when you turn a corner and you’re blown away by a striking scene. You start to envision the time when people used to work and live in these spaces. You imagine their lives and what these places must’ve meant to them. History is a huge piece of the puzzle. It’s a respectful time, but in the end, you’re there to shoot photos so you must absorb it all and then get to work, never forgetting the explorer’s motto… Take only photographs, leave only footprints.

The changing textures, rusting steel, and peeling paint make these places interesting. Discovering a piece of history, frozen in time for years, even decades, makes them emotional, but it is the loneliness, the sadness, and quiet desolation that make them beautiful. In this stillness, the poetry of steel & concrete is written.

LoB: You recently took and incredible six month trip around the world where you visited 10 countries and 80 cities. What was that experience like, and what is the craziest story from the trip?

RC: We spent some time in Myanmar, and decided to trek around the northwestern section closest to Bangladesh. Myanmar currently gets less than 3,000 American visitors the entire year, and even less in that particular province. We were drawn by the lure of an ancient city of over 80 ruined temples hidden amongst rivers and islands. The city known as Mrauk-U. There is no airport there so we flew as close as we could, then needed to take a 7 hour ferry ride to get to our destination. Most tourists rent a private boat to get there. That’s a bit too easy for me. I’m interested in a more organic experience, so we took the local ferry with the local people. It was an unforgettable experience, chickens, cows, and goats all making the trip with us. The locals were packed in like sardines and seating was wherever you could find a spot on the floorboards. A medicine man was selling concoctions of local herbs on a megaphone, and food vendors at each stop bring on board fried fish, coconut patties and crickets on a stick. My girlfriend starts knitting and the local women gather round her like bees and honey, one elderly woman resting her arms right across my girlfriend’s lap. She knit little bracelets for many of the babies on board and the moms all smiled from ear to ear. They accepted us like family and told us stories in a language we couldn’t possibly understand. They literally talked to us for 7 hours, gave us food, and they loved to come over and touch us. Our white American faces so strange and unknown to them. They were such lovely people. There’s such a heated debate as to whether visitors should go to Myanmar in the sense that your monies may indirectly fuel a corrupt government to further oppress their people. But seeing how much it meant to them to interact with us gave us our answer and justified our visit. It was in such a remote area. It truly was the furthest I’d ever been from home. Perhaps not the ‘craziest’ story, but one I am particularly fond of.

The whole experience was liberating! Buying a one-way ticket. Quitting my job, one that I loved. Life is so different once you realize personal time is more valuable than any money you could ever earn. It’s the only thing that matters.