The Resorts That Came Down

In most cities, tearing down a beloved building is a quiet tragedy. In Las Vegas, it's a spectacle. Crowds gather, cameras roll, and a resort that hosted legends folds into a cloud of dust in a matter of seconds. Then the dust settles and something taller takes its place.

We don't fight the wrecking ball. This city has always traded its past for its future, and that restlessness is part of what makes it interesting. But somebody should remember what stood there first, what the lobby felt like, how the marquee looked from the highway at midnight.

So we document each resort before its time runs out. We shoot the entrances, the pools, the signs, the small details that no postcard ever bothered with. When the implosion comes, those photographs become the last proof that the place was ever real, and proof that it mattered to the people who passed through it.