There's a market nearby that I have been needing to check out for a few weeks now, I walk by it almost daily, just as the last few workers are packing up their goods and the stalls are mostly empty. Naturally, for a market, you have to get up early and attend them, something I've been struggling with this whole time. But this morning I finally had a chance to check it out, up relatively early today and prepared to capture it. I almost set up the rest of my camera gear to bring it with me, assuming I'd have the ability to video it and capture some of the atmosphere. It's a bit of a rainy day today, and at the last moment I decided against bringing gear that could easily get damaged and unlikely to be used. I threw on a large hoodie, a coat, and a scarf. Packed the camera into my coat pocket and that was that. So some surprise it seemed the market itself was quite dead as a result of the weather. Water dripping from above from the gaps in the tarp. Most stalls still empty from the night before, as if everyone hadn't even bothered to see if the weather would pick up or not.
With the sound of rainfall above, I walked through the main area, a small selection of fruit and greens remained. Nothing all that interesting. The most interesting aspect of it was the Lada that sat sheltered from the rain. From here there's a n indoor market just ahead, something I assumed would be thriving and full of interesting things to capture; walking up to it, it turned out this was dead for another reason. This market existed from the Soviet era, its old Russian and Armenian signs faded but still visible above, showcasing what would've been where, with plenty of space. All that remained was the signs of decay, three or four people inside attempting to sell various herbs and mostly types of cheese. The reason for this market's death was the franchised store that had appeared opposite. I realised I had been shopping there and felt a tremendous guilt. I looked into the faces of the tired and elderly, their isolation in this building. Their attempts at making a living clearly failing. Prices still incredibly cheap and affordable but incapable of gaining interest as a result of the nearby convenience.
It was a depressing feeling, to walk through the location and see its death. The decay of an environment that was once the pillar of a community in a quiet area. The dependence the people would've had on the market, and the fresh produce that could've been obtained; now replaced with plastic wrapping and tinned goods that come from who knows where. The realisation that I should start using this market came to be. That I could make a bit of a difference by ensuring I buy from the market if possible. In a way I'm glad I couldn't bring the rest of my camera gear, to roam through this market and see the tiredness. To capture it still felt essential. To portray that sense of depression that lingered in such a large, empty hall. Armenia is still riddled with markets and people that sell their goods from the roadside, many still depend on them; but that constrast of thriving globalism on one side of the street, and the death of community visible on the other, it gave a particularly strong pain.
I wish I could've seen this space in all its glory. To see the many faces coming and going, the life and discussions as a result of that community that was once here.