A week of stories about what we squander, discard, and fritter away: Welcome to the Wastelands.
It’s not the Big Dig or the Second Avenue Subway. America’s biggest infrastructure quagmires are much, much larger than that.
Whether they’ve been leveled by wars or earthquakes, cities don’t tend to stay wastelands forever.
An art installation celebrates the spirit of boarded-up blocks of Baltimore and Japan.
“An act of transforming the wasteland is seen as a redemptive activity that’s going to save the individual, the society, and the nation.”
Turning around abandoned urban spaces sometimes just takes a little imagination.
At Freshkills Park, where the city dumped 150 million tons of its garbage, human desires and nature’s needs are feeling their way to a new harmony.
A word that was originally about plant diseases became “infused with racial and ethnic prejudice” when it moved to the city.
Less ice and more shipping traffic has left the seafloor looking like the side of a New Jersey highway.
Researchers are digging into heaps of discarded food to uncover clues about why we throw so much of it away—and how cities can cut the waste.
Why are these Dallas suburbs funding the most expensive high school football stadiums ever built?
Tourists flock there to see “the most destructive force ever created by humankind.” But the Japanese city wants people to look beyond the bomb.
A photographer explores the emotional connections of mementos that change hands at Dallas estate sales.
One of the most historically resonant sites in Germany’s capital has been left in ruins.
As the Cambodian capital’s least-majestic waterway, the infamous “Shit Canal” is descended from greater architectural marvels intended to re-engineer the landscape.
Lake Erie is cleaner now that it was during the Rust Belt’s industrial heyday. But all is not well underwater.
Through large-scale demolition and clearance, American urban renewal waged a war on perceived waste—and created a new tide of it.