I’ve lived my entire life in the Chicago suburbs. I’m sure my teenage self would be appalled to know I’m still here. I don’t know where I ultimately want to end up, but for now, I am at peace with where I’m at.
Still, the suburbs are an oddity. For one, you absolutely need a car to get around. The existence of the suburbs relies on decent gas prices. If oil became scarce and gas prices shot up so that filling your tank cost a 100 dollars or more, everyday life here wouldn’t be sustainable for a lot of people. It seems like a fragile existence, one that we’ve taken for granted.
We’ve dedicated a lot of space here to accommodate our cars. My car has its own spot in the driveway and can always depend on having a spot at work, the grocery store, and the gym. During the workday, a corporate campus parking lot becomes a sea of cars. By five, the tide goes out. The parking lot stands empty, waiting.
All the parking lots and roads and dealerships—car culture runs deep in the suburbs. It’s so ingrained that it goes unnoticed most of the time.
To me, there is something eerie about the suburbs. Our suburban towns have increasingly lost their individuality. At times, it can be difficult to tell where you are. Chain stores repeat themselves from town to town, and subdivisions stamp the same three house plans over and over. That feeling of placelessness gnaws at me.
To counteract that, I turn to the suburbs’ natural spaces. The West Branch of the DuPage River only flows through certain towns. It wiggles through downtown Naperville and later merges with the East Branch at an acute angle. The streets aren’t as grid-like as the city because the roads concede to the rivers. Washington St rides alongside the West Branch, curving as it heads south.
This street takes me to the farm, my favorite place in the Chicago suburbs. If the momentum of suburban development had its way, the 60 acres of farmland would have been another subdivision. They were so sure it would be that the developers had planned a road going straight through the farm. Thanks to a conservation easement, the farm still stands and the road dead ends on both sides of it, never to be connected.
And so, a fragment of rural life still survives in the suburbs.
While the suburbs have a glut of uniform and blasé spaces, there are several gems—many of which I have still have to discover.
My 2021 resolution: Film photos. Every month for 12 months.
Film Stock: Kodak Porta 400