Statement: NEONOPOLIS

Work in Progress: Neonopolis, The Red Corporation & Other Chronicles.


I revisit my former home! Hong Kong. Twenty years after the handover from British to Chinese rule, 20 years after I left, the city again fascinates me. For as I witness people dashing through pouring rain along wet, congested Wan Chai streets, of pavements shimmering with iridescent hues, cinematic fantasies flash through my mind.

Things seem to have come full circle. Just as the notorious Walled City of Kowloon inspired the bleak, neon-soaked, perpetually dank and rain-soaked dystopia of Blade Runner, so its sequel now cedes to the alternate reality of neonopolis.

The more I wander with my camera, ideas formulate. I think about the world of Chinese cyber espionage in the era of Xi Jinping, and ruminate on how mainland intelligence agents are in the territory gathering information for the State! How coercion and meddling in local politics from China is sowing confusion and fear. Encouraging mistrust. I ponder equally about the engineering marvel that is Hong Kong. A labyrinth imbued with dynamic energy flow. Commerce, logistics! Public transport that efficiently whisks cramped commuters from their cubicle homes to their cubicle offices.

I witness legions of office workers oblivious to their predicament. Hypnotized by their smart phones. Commuters devouring social media piped into their brains via hand held devices!

I see around me towering skyscrapers, examples of extreme wealth. A realm strangely futuristic all the while rooted in the present. I consider the outlandish costs of rents and how buyers from China drive real estate prices into the stratosphere. Greed. Hong Kong, with its millions of people, thousands of tower blocks and a shortage of affordable homes. More thoughts of sci-fi/existential films such as Metropolis, Citizen Cane, 1984 crowd my mind. I see with clarity all around me a ‘film set’! A stage in which to try something I’ve not tried before.

Hence I begin neonopolis: The Red Corporation and Other Chronicles. The title of this street photography project is intentionally clunky. Alluding to humor. My intention is to tackle a variety of themes in a mildly amusing way. Topics such as the banality of commuting, our addiction to gadgets, social media, high rise living, big city life. The changing political landscape, and mainland China's meddling with Hong Kong politics and business.

I take the basic principle of street photography ie. capture reality as it happens, and then through captions that are misleading, warp that reality into a visual narrative more akin to a spoof of science fiction film. The buzzword here is fiction. I photography reality but choose locations and angles that allow me to concoct fantasy. Through a glass darkly, I hold up a mirror to the twisted skeins of stories being played out on the seething streets.

The titles are courtesy of my partner-in-crime, another Hong Kong handover refugee and feature writer, Jason Gagliardi. His words help guide the viewer into a world that is at once an exaggeration and a satire, a strangely beautiful vision of a parallel universe and a stark reminder of where we could find ourselves in a not too distant future.


RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Where the wired things are
2060

The vast sprawling leagues of crumbling dreams and connective tissue, the pulse and the impulse, the will to power that kept the consensual hallucination that was neonpolis humming, growing, agglomerating, accreting, coalescing ... no one was really sure but the rumours were strong. Somewhere high in the clouds of static and smog, betrayed by a vague and opalesent grey-green glow, a few putrescent shades off the stuff that passed for blood in a synth, the Other was pulling the strings, pushing our buttons, leading the dance.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
The Big Hang Up
2060

The information would come, mostly at night, from the handlers in the north, usually at an old coin payphone. The shrill blast of an old dial-up signal, and then the cochlear implant would take over. The information dump, and the pain, always the pain. Mostly operatives could survive an infodump. Mostly. It was like a dead letter drop from the old days of spycraft, except it was hundreds of thousands of gigabytes downloaded straight into your cranium, in a matter of nanoseconds, digital to analogue.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
The White Car
2060

The white car could often be seen in the city late at night, cruising slowly like a shark, or simply stopped, watching, waiting. It glowed softly through the neon soup. It had no number plate or ID. Did it even have a driver? It flowed along with the bright red corpuscles of the taxis through sclerotic lanes. Was it a white blood cell, fighting some unseen infection? Or was it a new virus?
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
All along the watchtower
2060

That was the thing about neonopolis. You were never truly alone. Someone was always watching, looking over your shoulder, following in your footsteps, peering inside your thoughts. They tried to camouflage the mental observation towers but a bit of creeping foliage couldn’t really disguise the creeping dread of complete state control of the populace. In the big smoke, big brother was all up in your business, 24-7. You deal, or you deal yourself out. End of story.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Pleasures of the not-flesh
2060

You could find anything you wanted in the pleasure zone. Mostly we wanted imperfection. The second sexual revolution, the coming of the synths, had sated our desires, made us bored with beauty. Perfection was a platitude, symmetry stifling. You might as well be fucking a Stepford Wife or a Barbie doll. Ho-hum. So the new servosynths strove for something else; the flaws, the flab, a whiff of decay, a blast of flatus. The ineffable desirability of broken, dirty things. Most of us had long since lost the ability to deal with actual humans. Why bother? And how would you know half the time anyway?
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
The medium is the message
2060

Beneath neonopolis flowed the medium; a kind of ectoplasm that superconducted digital signals and electromagnetic pulses. It was a liquid city beneath a city, clogged with the detritus of decommissioned synths and the odd human corpse that had been, well, liquidated. If this ur-city had a lifeblood, this was it, this thin, clear watery soup that connected the dots, made the synapses snap and the wires hum. It was the fuel, really, but we were putting out the fire with gasoline.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Off the grid?
2060

Eventually we were all reduced to shadows. Tune out, turn off? Oh no, you were on the grid, in the grid, of the grid, eternally, inexorably, inevitably and intractably. In the beginning was the grid, and the Other smiled and saw that the grid was good. Good god. Was this what the city had reduced us to? Scuttling shapes, shades, simalcra, human palimpsests, serried ranks of digital elipses; the obverse of the platonic ideal, folorn, forgotten figures flitting through digital twilight.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
The dream police
2060

Keep your electric eye on me babe. Put your ray gun to my head. But this ain’t no moonage daydream. This is neonopolis. The big chip. The circuit that never sleeps. Yes, you are under surveillance. The dream police exist. Step out of line, speak out of turn, think outside the stream and you will be terminated, liquidated, vaporised in the blink of an eye in the sky. You take your creature comforts where you can find them. Because life tends to be nasty, brutish and short, even though we have cracked the genome and can live forever. Eternal life? You can keep it. Give me a cold beer, a hot synth and some spuntini salad.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
See these eyes so blind
2060

They’ve been watching you for a thousand years. Which to the Other is a day. The trick is to see and yet not to see. And by doing so, lessen the chance of being seen. Scene: a train, total brain drain. Is she a synth that’s been thrashed within a nanoparticle of her life, plug pulled, dessicated and dejuiced; or just another sad sack of flesh, fluid and bone ground down by neonopolis and its unrelenting stresses and pressures. Only her handler, high up in the towers, knows for sure. But in the cracks, the crevices, the interstitial spaces and especially within the chemicals, respite can be found. In Xanadu did Kublai Khan a stately pleasure dome decree ...
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
I blink, therefore I am
2060

Life is a light emitting diode. In a neonopolis mired in untold millions of dark nights of the soul, at the last, we were left with the lights. The ceaseless wheedling reds, blues and greens, primary colours of persuasion, cybernetic cyanotypes. The massive bioluminous truetone 5D advertising screens, blasting and cajoling and importuning, personalised to within an inch of your life, dictating fashions, creating trends, ending fads and shifting paradigms, all in real time. Son et lumiere, sturm und drang, sound and vision … and eventually, sound and fury, signifying nothing, just an empty echo inside a synth’s dream of electric sheep.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Under neon loneliness, datacycle emptiness...
2060

Oh yeah, we’ll always be together in electric dreams. What a joke. The more connected we were, the more at one with the hive mind, integrated into the web, plugged in to the mainframe, the more we were truly alone. Who knew who was human and who was synth anymore? Your closest friends could turn out to be exotic alloys and fancy plastics and tissues grown in a laboratory. Won’t get fooled again, you’d say. But you would. And so the disconnection, the dislocation would begin. You wouldn’t even know if your own thoughts were real, or just another forcedownload as you slept. People who need people are the loneliest people in the world.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
The fading, the shading
2060

The chameleon changes its colours to assume the hues and textures of its environment. In the rainforest, there exists a lizard that thermoregulates, adjusting its temperature to the ambient surroundings, rendering it invisible to snakes and heat-seeking predators. In the city, it paid to blend in, to assimilate. Thermoregulate, even. It was an art. There were tricks, tools. You learned or got burned. We all fade to grey.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

Rachael waits to meet Deckard!
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
I blink, therefore I am
2060

Life is a light emitting diode. In a neonopolis mired in untold millions of dark nights of the soul, at the last, we were left with the lights. The ceaseless wheedling reds, blues and greens, primary colours of persuasion, cybernetic cyanotypes. The massive bioluminous truetone 5D advertising screens, blasting and cajoling and wheedling and persuading, personalised to within an inch of your life, dictating fashions, creating trends, ending fads and shifting paradigms, all in real time. Son et lumiere, sturm und drang, sound and vision ... and eventually, sound and fury, signifying nothing, just an empty echo inside a synth’s dream of electric sheep.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Where the wired things are
2060

The vast sprawling leagues of crumbling dreams and connective tissue, the pulse and the impulse, the will to power that kept the consensual hallucination that was neonpolis humming, growing, agglomerating, accreting, coalescing ... no one was really sure but the rumours were strong. Somewhere high in the clouds of static and smog, betrayed by a vague and opalesent grey-green glow, a few putrescent shades off the stuff that passed for blood in a synth, the Other was pulling the strings, pushing our buttons, leading the dance.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
I blink, therefore I am
2060

Life is a light emitting diode. In a neonopolis mired in untold millions of dark nights of the soul, at the last, we were left with the lights. The ceaseless wheedling reds, blues and greens, primary colours of persuasion, cybernetic cyanotypes. The massive bioluminous truetone 5D advertising screens, blasting and cajoling and wheedling and persuading, personalised to within an inch of your life, dictating fashions, creating trends, ending fads and shifting paradigms, all in real time. Son et lumiere, sturm und drang, sound and vision ... and eventually, sound and fury, signifying nothing, just an empty echo inside a synth’s dream of electric sheep.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Where the wired things are
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Where the wired things are
2060

The vast sprawling leagues of crumbling dreams and connective tissue, the pulse and the impulse, the will to power that kept the consensual hallucination that was neonpolis humming, growing, agglomerating, accreting, coalescing ... no one was really sure but the rumours were strong. Somewhere high in the clouds of static and smog, betrayed by a vague and opalesent grey-green glow, a few putrescent shades off the stuff that passed for blood in a synth, the Other was pulling the strings, pushing our buttons, leading the dance.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
The medium is the message
2060

Beneath neonopolis flowed the medium; a kind of ectoplasm that superconducted digital signals and electromagnetic pulses. It was a liquid city beneath a city, clogged with the detritus of decommissioned synths and the odd human corpse that had been, well, liquidated. If this ur-city had a lifeblood, this was it, this thin, clear watery soup that connected the dots, made the synapses snap and the wires hum. It was the fuel, really, but we were putting out the fire with gasoline.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

NEONOPOLIS. KZone/7.8751.7E. Habitat Sector 2049/S.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Off the grid?
2060

Eventually we were all reduced to shadows. Tune out, turn off? Oh no, you were on the grid, in the grid, of the grid, eternally, inexorably, inevitably and intractably. In the beginning was the grid, and the Other smiled and saw that the grid was good. Good god. Was this what the city had reduced us to? Scuttling shapes, shades, simalcra, human palimpsests, serried ranks of digital elipses; the obverse of the platonic ideal, folorn, forgotten figures flitting through digital twilight.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Pleasures of the not-flesh
2060

You could find anything you wanted in the pleasure zone. Mostly we wanted imperfection. The second sexual revolution, the coming of the synths, had sated our desires, made us bored with beauty. Perfection was a platitude, symmetry stifling. You might as well be fucking a Stepford Wife or a Barbie doll. Ho-hum. So the new servosynths strove for something else; the flaws, the flab, a whiff of decay, a blast of flatus. The ineffable desirability of broken, dirty things. Most of us had long since lost the ability to deal with actual humans. Why bother? And how would you know half the time anyway?
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2017
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

Minder Xi Red Corporation Blade Runner, monitor the commuter masses, via hand held devices, coupled to spectral chargers (brain scanners) strategically placed at choke points along the MRT (Mass Republibot Transfer) System.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

The white car could often be seen in the city late at night, cruising slowly like a shark, or simply stopped, watching, waiting. It glowed softly through the neon soup. It had no number plate or ID. Did it even have a driver? It flowed along with the bright red corpuscles of the taxis through sclerotic lanes. Was it a white blood cell, fighting some unseen infection? Or was it a new virus?
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

ZS, or Zombie Sydrome is a neurotic condition that affects a staggering 80% of ALL the social classes in Neonopolis. Causes the state believes are cramped living conditions, exaggerated use of smart devices, fixation on money and wealth, over consumption of endangered NON republibot species, contaminated O2, including sulfuric rain and by-products of plastic leaching into the food chain. Physical symptoms include slurred speech, a strange walking gait, a general disinterest in the world around them, and a bizarre reddening of the eyes.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060

Zootropolis. KZone/5.2543.8W. Habitat Sector 1456/H.
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
RICHARD MARK DOBSON Street Photography-Neo Noire-NEONOPOLIS
Neonopolis
2060
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