Renowned photographer David Plowden, who spent decades documenting a rapidly changing America, died May 4 at age 93 at a retirement home in Evanston after a heart attack in his sleep. His work—of steel mills, steam trains and fading small-town life—rested on t
On a continent where old landmarks can vanish without warning, David Plowden built his life around arriving early—before the wrecking ball moved in.
For decades. the photographer sought out a fast-changing America that seemed to be disappearing: steam-powered locomotives that gave way to diesel. Great Lakes steamships replaced by newer systems. small-town mom-and-pop businesses pressured by the rise of big-box stores. and steel mills where the work itself was increasingly shutting down. He brought a Hasselblad camera—boxy. tripod-mounted—and returned again and again to the same kind of places where industry. routine. and community were about to be rewritten.
When he wanted to photograph a small town or a farm. Plowden would leaf through the Yellow Pages directory there. then go to a local bar and talk with people. If he could. he went to the town diner too. ordering the special and sitting with the people working and eating around him. “Building trust, getting to know and understand the perspectives of his subjects — these things were important to him.”.
That approach wasn’t just a method; it was personal. In a 2011 interview with the Chicago Sun-Times, he said the drive behind his work was simple: “It was the feeling that it was very, very important to make a record of this so people could see what we looked like.”
In the late 1970s, he trained the lens of his Hasselblad on steelworkers in northwest Indiana. After days of shooting and documenting their work. his wife. Sandra Plowden. said he would come home covered in soot—and she’d make him take off his clothes at the front door. Former assistant Glenn Hansen described him as someone who saw himself “as a historian as much as a photographer.”.
Plowden’s mantra was “Staying one step ahead of the wrecking ball.” Former assistant Stephen Serio said he experienced the landscape as a race against time, adding that Plowden saw it as “a race against the clock” and understood that “literally and figuratively, the American landscape was changing.”
Those instincts shaped his teaching as much as his art. In the 2011 interview. he emphasized the idea that the camera doesn’t do the seeing by itself: “The camera doesn’t make the photograph — you do.” He would spend days in the field with his students. pushing them to really look—walk around towns. talk with people long before they were allowed to lift a camera.
Plowden died May 4 at a retirement home in Evanston after he had a heart attack in his sleep, according to his family. He was 93.
Over the span of his career, he published more than 20 photography books. His prints were created in his basement darkroom, and they were exhibited at museums and galleries across the country. Some sold for several thousand dollars each at the Near North Side Catherine Edelman Gallery, which has since closed. For many years, Plowden stored his prints in large safe-deposit boxes in the basement vault of a bank in Winnetka.
His professional life also carried a long teaching thread. He moved from New York City to Chicago in 1978 to teach at the Institute of Design. a graduate school of the Illinois Institute of Technology. Later. he taught at Grand Valley State University and the University of Iowa. commuting from his home in the north suburbs.
Born Oct. 9, 1932, Plowden grew up in Boston and New York City. Steam trains captivated him early. As a child, he would later say he got a camera in adolescence and knew he wanted to photograph trains. His mother accompanied him on train trips before sending him on voyages alone, beginning when he was just 12. Over time, he befriended railroad workers and was often allowed to ride with train engineers. He also spent time in Putney. Vt. where his mother’s family had a farm; there. he grew to love watching trains and appreciating farm life.
After he got an economics degree at Yale University, his uncles set up interviews for Wall Street jobs. But Plowden sabotaged the interviews because he said his heart was in photography, and he pursued it. At a workshop led by Minor White at the Rochester Institute of Technology. White studied a few of Plowden’s train photos for several minutes without speaking. Then White told him, “You have the eye of a poet.” Plowden, largely self taught, did not complete the workshop. He left early to return to his train photos. He later recalled White telling him, “Go do your damned engines. Get them out of your system, or you’ll never do anything else.”.
In 1968, Plowden received a Guggenheim Fellowship. He later received a research grant from the Smithsonian Institution.
“ In all cases. Plowden sought to produce art that transcended the object. ” said former WBEZ journalist Steve Edwards. who wrote an introduction to Plowden’s 2008 book “Vanishing Point” and put together an obituary for the family. Edwards added that Plowden “was interested in highlighting the majestic in the mundane and in asking deeper questions about what we create. what we value and what we discard as a culture.”.
Even into his 80s, Plowden chased projects and published books. When long hours in the darkroom became too much for him to manage, he learned Adobe Photoshop.
His family remembers him with warmth and humor. His son Philip Plowden described road-trip moments that made the work feel like part of a larger life—where laughter was never far away. “We’d pull up to a toll booth on a family trip. and he’d put on these funny hats. like a raccoon or a moose. and my sister and I would be mortified. But he was having a great time,” Philip said. He also recalled a neighborhood boy’s ball bouncing into their yard and the doorbell ringing—only for Plowden to respond. “Sure. you can retrieve the ball. just give me a sec. I have to turn off our electric fence. We have a pet elephant back there.”.
In addition to his son Philip, Plowden is survived by his wife Sandra Plowden, daughter Karen Plowden, sons John Plowden and Daniel Plowden from a previous marriage, 10 grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. A celebration of his life is being planned.
David Plowden photographer vanishing America Evanston heart attack steelworkers steam trains Hasselblad Guggenheim Fellowship Smithsonian research grant Institute of Design Illinois Institute of Technology