Today we highlight our second Click fellow, Bill Finan. Bill is working at the limits of art, exploration and photojournalism, becoming famous in the underground world of Urban Exploring or “URBEX”.

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I met Bill over a decade ago and he was one of the people who got me into photography. I was surprised that even after more than a decade, I met people from all over the world who have heard of Bill Finan.

Many have asked me if Bill Finan was a myth, a legend. “Wait, Bill Finan is actually a real person?” a phrase I heard more than once at Urbex meetups. When selecting Click Fellows, we wanted to focus on people that are pushing the limits of photography, even if it makes some people uncomfortable.

Introducing, the authenticated Bill Finan:

Bill, we are honored to have you as our second Click Photojournalism Fellow. While we were setting up the call, you mentioned that you had a pirate radio station years ago. Tell us about that.

One of the things my friends and I did in college was explore the old tunnels in parts of a sanitarium. We discovered that there was electricity, so we turned the space into a party and rave spot, setting up a couple of DJ tables and rooms. We also had an FM transmitter, which we used to promote our events. Back in the day, everyone had a phone with FM receivers, and no one had unlimited data plans yet. FM streaming made sense at that particular moment. Then the place was demolished.

It sounds like you enjoy capturing these ephemeral moments. Things that were there for only a moment.

Definitely. With technology, we often don’t realize how new or significant something is until it’s gone or replaced. I remember the internet in the 90s during its formative years.

It sounds like you love pushing the limits of technology and society. So tell me, why are you so controversial in the Urbex community?

The funny thing is, I don’t think I’m intentionally pushing limits. Evidently, I am, but that’s not my angle. Much of it comes down to trying to fit in but in new and different ways.

What got you into documenting the world around you? A big part of your life has always been urbex.

The first few times I explored, I didn’t even have a camera—this was before camera phones were common. This was back in 2006 when I was choosing which college to attend. I got to skip school and hang out at the University of Rochester (U of R) for a week, where students were really into urban exploring. Back then, there were some great tunnels at U of R.

A big part of urbex is the legends, these whispers of places that may or may not exist. I remember growing up hearing stories about WWII nuclear experiments in the U of R tunnels, and cold war tunnel networks stretching across the country.

Yes, as a subculture, urbex an online phenomenon really began in places like the Catacombs in Paris, and here in the US in Toronto and Rochester. By the time I started, these legends were well-known, even if they weren’t in other areas. Now, on TikTok, we see urbex has entered the mainstream. Memes and content are spilling over from urbex into online culture, where people recognize famous YouTubers or TikTokers even if they wouldn’t explore themselves.

Documenting abandoned places was controversial back then. I’d argue you were a catalyst for the mainstream urbex community entering the meme-sphere. You were one of the first people to bring documenting abandoned places publicly into the discussion space.

When I started, it felt very niche, like something only a few people were into. It wasn’t just secretive; it was something you wouldn’t share with your teacher or boss—it had that level of controversy. At U of R, we actually had a recognized club dedicated to it. Very few colleges have something like that even now.

We really grew up in this beautiful industrial decay, the remnants of Kodak.

Interesting fact: I’ve never explored Kodak because they were extremely diligent about securing and demolishing their properties. It would make for a great book, but they were so good at keeping people out that no one got to see what Kodak left behind.

Fighting misinformation in one Click!

Capture the world and sign your photos or videos in a digital trust network

https://clickapp.com

Perhaps the biggest debate that you were part of was tagging locations. Even talking to urbexers here in CA, they have heard your name. They thought you were a myth.

There have been people who believed I am a fictional character. Some people asked me to an event thinking I am a myth, thinking they knew my creator. They never took into consideration that I would actually show up.

A big part of what we do with Click is proving identity and proving location. Why was this so controversial at the time?

The controversy is that a lot of people believe that sharing locations leads to them being destroyed. On the one hand, there is some logic—over tourism exists. But it makes more sense to look at it from an ecological and symbiotic perspective. Explorers are not the apex predator in the abandoned ecosystem. Ultimately, the enemy is usually the property owner in one form or another.

The inevitable is that a place will, given enough time, be demolished, destroyed, or repurposed. Given long enough, one of those things will happen. It’s not just us in this process. There are scrappers, there are vandals, there are stray artists influencing this process.

The flaw explorers have, urbexers have, is a level of self-importance, thinking that we have the power to protect these buildings by gatekeeping. Of course we want to see the places preserved, but once enough others know where it is, all we're actually doing is keeping explorers out. There are subcultures who disagree with this. People who do graffiti have an entirely different subculture and set of motives. When you see a tag, you know there is or was a way in. The same goes for windows being broken or doors busted out. It’s not the explorers; it’s probably a kid with a bat or a scrapper. They have their own incentives. All of those forces are acting on the building. When you don’t tell another explorer where the building is, they believe they are keeping it secret.

I believe there is some trust that you don’t place a map to the location for your million TikTok followers. But I think it’s just wrong that explorers make people redo each other’s research. This attitude is antithetical to the spirit of exploration.

Some say that [making places hard to find] makes you more of an explorer because you have to discover these places yourself. I say that collectively it makes the community as a whole less effective, as we have to make so much effort in finding places.

You really have to ask the question why? Why did that become so ingrained in the culture?

When does it make sense in a broader sense to prove the location in an image?

An approximate location is almost always a good thing. For social media purposes, the approximate location is helpful and provides a clue without giving the answer. Exact location is more for people to recreate the shot when you are actually telling the history or when it’s not around anymore. Outside of urbex, exact pins are also very useful for news.

I would like to see the community more open to sharing. Stop hiding locations. If you are actually in it for the history, it’s important to record. I believe that where a place is located is an important part of its story.

You’ve been a photographer for years. Tell us about some of your favorite work to date.

I’ve taken so many photos it’s hard to pick favorites. This summer was exciting. I shared photos I took with my phone, not my camera. I wanted to make a statement with just a phone.

On the subject of constraining your tool to a phone, this made me think of an artistic movement about simplification in photography. Once concept of Lomography, where people use the most basic camera possible to shoot photos. It’s a movement or a genre connected to a manufacturer that makes intentionally minimal or obstructed cameras.

I see Click as a form of obstruction, a set of rules someone has to follow to take a photo. That is really interesting to me. You can’t zoom, you can’t filter, you can’t crop. It’s like you’ve put a roll of film inside your phone. It’s the exact opposite of what you would expect a photo app to do. You would think you’d be adding more bells and whistles, but with Click you have one feature and that’s what you use. And I love that; it’s an equalizer as it becomes about composition and subject matter. There is no post-processing; it’s not even an option. You have an app where the photos capture exactly what you see.

I know a lot of photographers who will go deep into Photoshop to scrub out every piece of graffiti in a shot. They will change words on signs to make it harder to find the spot. They will change the clues. That’s not a thing with Click, and to me that’s a big deal. Deep fakes are a big deal, but so are deep edits.

With Click, we want to highlight people at the boundaries of photography that impact the world. When does photojournalism or photo documentation become art and vice versa?

I would say that photography is inherently art, the same way that graphic design is art. Whether it’s meant to hang on a wall or meant to sell cereal, you are meant to tell a story and that’s what you are doing. Some stories are more eloquent and eye-catching. It’s all art, but some of it trends so much toward the mundane that you don’t notice it.

It happens to be that abandoned buildings trend closer to art than other documentary filmmaking. That’s because they tell a story with graffiti and decay. Architecture is the most static of the arts on its own. You build that piece and it stays for decades or centuries. The other end of that is the most ephemeral—music. Music is the capture of a moment, and photography is halfway between that. With photography, you are taking a moment that, if not in motion, is most certainly in transition. The art is in the transformation of the places, and abandoned buildings are especially prone to transforming.

A great example was this powerplant was demolished, and the turbine was too big to move, so it’s still just standing there.

2021 (plant is still there)

2022 (demolition under way)

2024 (no plant, just the turbine)

What advice would you give your younger self interested in urbex photojournalism?

Don’t follow the trends, like what people are doing on TikTok—the rooftops and climbers. Young explorers are doing more and more extreme climbs and stunts because that’s how they think they’ll get the views. While that can make you a celebrity, it’s also deadly. I would say you can look at those people as your inspiration if you want; it’s impressive, but completely not my style or aesthetic. My advice is, if you want to explore, decide from the start if you’re in it for the art, the sport, or the fame. That will decide what you want to do next.

Shiey is a great example of that. He does all three, combining the beauty, adventure, and decay in Eastern Europe.

Another thing is that explorers are interested in going into places with higher and higher security. That was not always the case. That wasn’t the main motivation. There is a fine line between people who try to get into the most places they can and those who try to tell the stories of the places they go. I am certainly part of the latter, and I’m perfectly fine going to a wide-open place and telling its story. The former group ultimately ends up going to high-security places that look like commercial real estate photos. You can get those on Zillow (laughs). I agree that’s part of exploring, but at some point, things get a bit too “real estate.”

The next step is people exploring before places close. They take the photos, the place closes, and suddenly they are the first. You wouldn’t believe it, but this happens.

Again, another reason for authenticity.

Incredible thank you, Bill, for doing the interview.

Thank you for including me in this.