Looking at photographs of highways entirely eaten by vines and destroyed shops filled with trash and cobwebs, it’s easy to downplay their tragedy by comparing them to the set of a post-apocalyptic film. All of these images of Fukushima, Japan, taken four years after the earthquake and tsunami that caused the local nuclear power plant to melt down, almost seem too shocking to be real. But they are, and photographer Arkadiusz Podniesinski doesn’t want you to forget it. Within the exclusion zone, contaminated by radiation, lies a haunting ghost town with signs of its abrupt abandonment strewn everywhere you look.

If this all sounds reminiscent of another nuclear disaster, that’s part of the point of Podniesinski’s photo series. The photographer has visited Chernobyl a number of times over the past seven years, documenting its deterioration and subsequent reclamation by nature in the hopes that he could help remind the world that it’s human error that keeps causing these events to occur.

“It is not earthquakes or tsunami that are to blame for the disaster at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power station, but humans. The report produced by the Japanese parliamentary committee investigating the disaster leaves no doubt about this. The disaster could have been foreseen and prevented. As in the Chernobyl case, it was a human, not technology, that was mainly responsible for the disaster.”

“I came to Fukushima as a photographer and a filmmaker, trying above all to put together a story using pictures. I was convinced that seeing the effects of the disaster with my own eyes would mean I could assess the effects of the power station failure and understand the scale of the tragedy, especially the tragedy of the evacuated residents, in a better way. This was a way of drawing my own conclusions without being influenced by any media sensation, government propaganda, or nuclear lobbyists who are trying to play down the effects of the disaster, and pass on the information obtained to as wider a public as possible.”

See dozens more incredible images and read the accompanying story of Podniesinski’s journey through the Fukushima Exclusion Zone on the photographer’s website.

Some spots are such beautiful potential locations for a home, yet repeated natural disasters make them inhospitable for all but the strongest and most durable of dwellings. Architect Dionisio Gonzales imagines just how creative we could get in building disaster-proof structures with ‘Architecture for Resistance,’ a series of surrealist fantasies that often take their cues from natural shapes like shells.

Individual collections envision architecture for a particular location. ‘Dauphin Island’ is a series of hurricane-resistant designs for the island of the same name, located just south of Mobile, Alabama. The island has been hit by one hurricane after another. Gonzales believes that sustainable architecture could stop nature’s cycle of destruction with a dramatic change in the way our houses look.

The Dauphin Island creations are “real futuristic forts made of iron and concrete,” with shapes that call to mind sea shells, crustaceans and other marine organisms. It’s easy to imagine these structures closing up like forts to guard against high winds and flooding.

Gonzales also designed bizarro-world versions of Brazil’s favelas and the shabby settlements in the hills of Busan, South Korea, making a commentary on the coexistence of the wealthy and the very poor. The designs bring visually disjointed, futuristic structures into neighborhoods that are already chaotic in an attempt to legitimize the architectural vernacular of each location.

Call out “Abandon ship!” and what do you get? Abandoned ships. These 8 abandoned cruise ships and liners are all that’s left of what was left to Poseidon.

MS World Discoverer

(image via: Panoramio/Darcy O’Shea)

The German-built and Liberian-registered cruise ship MS World Discoverer enjoyed a 25-year-long, mainly trouble-free lifespan as a mid-sized (roughly 225 passengers and crew) passenger liner plying the South Pacific with occasional sorties into the frosty Arctic and Antarctic oceans.

(images via: Sometimes Interesting)

On April 30th of 2000, the World Discoverer was sailing through the Sandfly Passage in the Solomon Islands when she struck an uncharted rock or reef. Captain Oliver Kruess heroically nursed the listing liner into shallow Roderick Bay in the Florida Islands, where all aboard were safely evacuated. The World Discoverer, however, remains where it was beached in 2000, stripped of anything valuable by local islanders.

(images via: Sometimes Interesting and GCaptain)

Looking like an outtake from Life After People, the World Discoverer‘s exploring days are over for good and unlike most other coastal shipwrecks it will probably remain where it is, slowly rusting and moldering away in its sheltered cove, for some time to come. There’s only one thing that worries environmentalists: sometime in the future the World Discoverer’s metal fuel tanks will finally rust through, releasing unknown amounts of poisonous toxins into the sea and onto the beaches.

Queen Elizabeth 2

(images via: Seabreezes, Barcroft Media and Wikipedia/Dashers)

The jewel in the crown of Britain’s venerable Cunard Line, the ocean liner QE2 sailed the seven seas as both a transatlantic ocean liner and as a premium cruise ship from 1969 until her retirement on November 27th, 2008. Subsequently, the liner was purchased by Istithmar, the private equity arm of Dubai World, whose stated intention was to convert the vessel into a 500-room floating hotel to be moored at the Palm Jumeirah offshore resort in Dubai.

Due to the world financial crisis and its lingering effects on business in Dubai, virtually no work has been carried out on the ship and rumors have persisted the virtually abandoned QE2 would either be sent to Asia, either to be scrapped in China or converted into a floating luxury hotel, shopping mall and museum… and so it goes.

TSS Duke of Lancaster

(images via: HHV Ferry, Urban Montage and Associated Newspapers Ltd/Metro)

Launched in 1956, the TSS Duke of Lancaster was built at the Belfast shipyards of Harland & Wolff where the RMS Titanic was constructed almost a half-century earlier. The 4,450 ton, 1,800 passenger steamer operated as a passenger ferry on the Heysham-Belfast route and as a cruise ship calling at a variety of European ports from Spain to Norway for the better part of two decades. In November of 1978, the venerable Duke was retired from service on the seas… a new, landlocked career was about to begin.

(images via: Wirral and Daily Post)

In August of 1979, the ship was moved to Llanerch-y-Mor near Mostyn, Wales to become a static leisure center known as “The Fun Ship”. Legal issues and turf tussles with the local council crippled the ownership group’s business model, however, and the Duke’s slab sides were gradually covered by rust and unauthorized graffiti. The latter must have given somebody an idea because surprisingly, there’s life in the old Duke yet: as the largest open air art gallery in the UK.

(image via: Mike (pentlandpirate))

Beginning in August of 2012, a commission was offered to Latvian graffiti artist Kiwie who spray-painted a large-scale artwork on the ship’s side. Kiwie’s work was augmented and complemented by a wealth of “bright and surreal” graffiti by acclaimed artists including Dale Grimshaw, Dan Kitchener, Snub23, Spacehop, and Fin DAC. The latter’s eye-popping “Mauricamai” covers most the Duke’s stern and has been breathtakingly captured above by Flickr user Mike.

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The Unloved Boats 8 Abandoned Cruise Ships Liners

Though cyclones and their associated storm surges have been wreaking havoc on Bangladesh and other South Asian nations for thousands of years, an ongoing program of cyclone shelter construction has given hope to the region while saving lives with every storm.

Foul Weather Friends

(image via: UK CDS)

Cyclones and their associated storm surges have been the bane of Bangladesh and other South Asian nations for thousands of years, and thousands of accumulated cyclones have transformed the coastal plains into flat, low-lying death-traps for humans and animals.

(images via: BBC/WSBB, DFID/UK and Universal Aid Society)

Though the idea of cyclone shelters isn’t new, historically the resources and political institutions required to build sufficient cyclone shelters to serve all the people (and livestock) who need them simply haven’t been available. Things began to change after 1970’s devastating Bhola cyclone and the 1991 Bangladesh cyclone.

(images via: Uncultured, Ultimate World Disasters and Urban Emergencies)

It’s estimated that over 500,000 may have died due to the effects of the Bhola cyclone while the 1991 storm killed less people outright but left up to 10 million homeless. The 1991 cyclone was a much more powerful storm yet “only” 145,000 people died – better communications, a centralized government and hundreds of new cyclone shelters were contributing factors to the much-reduced death toll.

Building Up for a Disaster

(images via: BDix, GlobalEye, SuperStock and BBC)

The Bhola cyclone was the final straw leading to revolution in the former East Pakistan, as the devastated population felt ignored and neglected by the government situated in far-off Islamabad. Post-cyclone reconstruction commenced in conjunction with war recovery and nation-building – little if any resources were available to prepare for the next cyclone and existing structures were deprived of essential repairs and maintenance.

(images via: Weather Underground, Energy Systems BD and Audiophile)

Charitable contributions poured into Bangladesh, most famously via the Concert for Bangladesh conceived and organized by the late George Harrison. Some of these donations were used to construct cyclone shelters along Bangladesh’s most vulnerable area: the Bay of Bengal coastline. It’s estimated that in May of 1997 when a dangerous cyclone roared in from the Bay of Bengal, over one million people took refuge in cyclone shelters and the death toll was limited to roughly 100.

(images via: Geographic Alliance of Iowa)

The ramshackle, heavily-mildewed cyclone shelter above took in an amazing 3,000 refugees at the height of the 1997 cyclone.

(images via: Tahsin R Hossain and IH-IGCSE)

The new structures dispensed with decorative frills and their designs focused on functionality. Salient features of these cyclone shelters included concrete construction with a raised base on “stilts” to avoid flood damage and wide, flat roofs with access from below to facilitate egress via helicopter. The area beneath the building at ground level is often also raised to allow space for livestock to take cover. The performance of these modern cyclone shelters during and after the 1991 cyclone proved their worth and building continued post-storm in more isolated areas.

Lessons of the Storm

(images via: PMIndia)

Repeated cyclones and storm surges tend to sweep away lightly constructed buildings; thus the rigid concrete cyclone shelters take on extra value in areas hard hit by cyclones: with so few buildings left standing, it makes little sense to leave some unoccupied and unused. Many cyclone shelters become schools, especially larger shelters with multiple rooms.

(images via: UWEC, OneWorld and BDNews24)

The problem of multi-functionality is one that perhaps has bedeviled designers of cyclone shelters the most. Ideally, cyclone shelters are temporary structures to be used only for a day or two. They’re bare-bones buildings in the purest sense: no electrical wiring, no gas or water piping, no plumbing, no toilets and (often) no windows. Including these amenities would substantially raise building and maintenance costs when the overriding aim is to construct as many shelters as possible with a limited amount of resources.

(images via: UWEC)

Functional doesn’t necessarily have to mean plain, bland or even ugly. Some cyclone shelters display a distinct charm and a perceived lightness of form, a sense that contradicts their built-in strength and solidity.

Old & in the Way?

(images via: IH-IGCSE, Tandavakrishna Tunga and Adventist)

With no local owners, permanent residents or regular maintenance, cyclone shelters can fall into decay and disrepair. This is a sad fact in many parts of Bangladesh. It’s not that the authorities aren’t aware of the need to keep the shelters ready for the worst; the age-old lack of resources, funds and organization means even the strongest cyclone shelters ca age very badly.

(image via: The Hindu)

Residents of towns and villages where cyclone shelters have been neglected are noticing a host of associated issues. “The cyclone shelter has become a den for gamblers, drunkards and other anti-social elements in the village,” said an anonymous local woman in one village. “The building too is in a dilapidated condition, so we request the district officials to dismantle the structure immediately.” One hopes she won’t regret her wish someday.

(images via: Greenpeace Luxembourg and SERC Chennai)

Neglect isn’t always the fate of cyclone shelters between storms, however. In some villages, the locals take it upon themselves to provide regular upkeep and remind one and all that these oddly built buildings could save their lives some dark and stormy night. The image above is especially interesting – the lower cyclone shelter would look right at home in South Beach… minus the goat.

Helter Shelters

(images via: UWEC and Diviseema.info)

In some parts of Bangladesh, India and South Asia, cyclone shelters are the best looking buildings on the block – even if they aren’t the ONLY buildings on the block left standing. Take the plantation-style structure above left and, at above right, a curiously playful rooftop sculpture of dancing dolphins.

(images via: ArchSociety)

Maybe the field of cyclone shelter design is getting a bit too rarified, straying from its intended purpose and disregarding the practicalities of building severe-weather-ready structures in Bangladesh? The 2009 Fael Khair Cyclone Shelter Design Competition provided a window into the motivations of up & coming designers who might try weathering an actual cyclone before putting pen to paper. KISS, people!

(images via: Francois Poffet)

The cyclone shelters above were built by the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC) in 2010, and to say they look out of place is an understatement.

(images via: Francois Poffet)

It’ll be interesting to see how these “schools on stilts” handle the fury of a full-blown tropical cyclone and, knowing Bangladesh’s history of severe cyclones, we probably won;t have to wait too long.

(image via: Your BD News)

In Bangladesh, “any port in a storm” often means the local cyclone shelter. Ungainly in appearance, often impractical for other uses, occasional hangouts for undesirables… cyclone shelters certainly have their pros and cons but when the sky darkens and the waters rise, you can bet your life all the negatives will be forgotten.

If you believe there’s beauty in destruction and a special kind of hope in disaster, Steve McGhee‘s art will speak to you. The Canadian illustrator’s imagination gives birth to tragedy, calamity, and adversity. These misadventures would be shockingly tragic if they ever actually occurred…but luckily for all of us, they only take place in McGhee’s mind.

Born and raised in London, Ontario, McGhee knew from an early age that he was lucky enough to have natural artistic talent. After a rather disturbing phase of designing horrifying “torture houses” as a child, the artist turned to more benign forms of art, sketching superheroes and action figures.

In college, McGhee tried out animation, but decided it wasn’t for him. He moved his focus to studying design and advertising, and it was in college that he developed his now-superb Photoshop skills. But rather than following the school’s schedule for learning the program, Steve simply sneaked into higher-level classes to learn at a faster rate.

After college, McGhee found work in design and advertising, but he never lost his taste for the darker side of life. His professional work is high-quality, but he really shines in the art he creates just for fun. The personal work he posts on his website reflects the artist’s natural talent as well as the skills he’s acquired over his many years of working.

These personal pieces frequently focus on the darker side of life, on what can go wrong at any given moment. They are visions of the post-apocalyptic world, predictions for what might happen in our future, be it near or far. They’re the worst-case scenario, the things we hope will never actually happen.

Why focus on the seemingly negative? Why spend so much energy creating art that only brings to mind the unpleasant things that most of us would rather not think about? McGhee’s answer is rather simple: it all has to do with the innocence that such tragedy can inspire.

He brings up the days following the September 11 attacks: reporters ran out of words and were simply unable to say anything more than the pictures were already saying about the unspeakable tragedy unfolding before us. In the days surrounding the attacks, we all banded together in a sort of awed silence, letting our words be replaced with a strange fellowship most of us had never before experienced. We were returned to a primal state where all we wanted was comfort and reassurance.

As an artist, McGhee hopes to inspire the same kind of innocent silence. His images of destruction aren’t particularly macabre or shocking; they simply depict moments of extremes that most of us will, thankfully, never have to live through. The digital paintings weren’t meant to inspire terror or even sadness. They are neutral speculative histories of imaginary disasters, meant to bring the viewer back to a primal state of mind where all we can do is observe.

His inspiration, according to the artist, usually comes from simply imagining something awful. He composes a disaster in his mind and imagines how it would look on television news and in the newspapers. He strives to recapture that momentary sense of collective awe that, for better or worse, always seems to punctuate moments of tragedy.

Of course, not all of McGhee’s art depicts the moment that the unthinkable happens. He creates a fair amount of art that shows the aftermath of awful things, but in a gentle and curious way. These post-apocalyptic pieces are perhaps even more arresting than those which show explosions, crashes and giant whirlpools; their matter-of-fact imagery speaks of the calm and rebirth that often follows those moments of unfathomable disaster.