In the small town where I grew up in there was an evangelical church that, at Christmas time, opened a quonset hut full of biblical scenes built out of surplus mannequins with glued-on beards and Party City wigs. For terminally ironic teenagers these thrift store-David LaChappelle scenes were a free entertainment godsend. One year, dressed in our punk and goth finest and stoned on weed, we posed with the figures, rearranging them in questionable tableaus when no one was looking. I think we even signed the guestbook with Manson girl names. Now that I’m far past my hokey teen transgressions I see that we were answering religious kitsch we found genuinely oppressive with our own brand of subcultural kitsch.
In the end, it’s probably a danger to not take everyone’s kitsch seriously.
That hut is long gone but over the years I’ve kept looking for these places while on road trips and tours and taking photos when I can. The following photos are of derelict Christian parks in Connecticut and California. In their own ways, both places sprang from American anxieties: Holy Land USA wanted to bring a mini-golf-sized holy land to a dying industrial town while Desert Christ Park’s creator built reinforced concrete icons in the Mojave Desert meant to survive a nuclear war. (Though of course they couldn’t even survive bored teenagers.)