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It would be interesting if this composition was contrasted with ground level imagery that takes the viewer into the everydayness of this structural toxicity and how it subsequently can orientate us to the point of not being aware of its scale and thus become accepting of (or resigned to?) it. A sort of hidden in plain site effect. Or, alternatively, overlaying of various periods of toxic emplacement at this site that evidence change but also the persistent reproduction of certain systems of power and concomitant arrangements of society - a toxic terriotriality. 

The image draws my attention to toxicity as territorial, persistent, and 'enlivening' and how such processes should be evidenced through archival research if we are to truly appreciate  structuring effects and emplacement. I also found myself thinking a lot about scale and time here. For instance, how the archival evidence of scale and time of toxicity generated for me a sadness that this is where we are at and have been for quite some period. Looking at the image I felt that any just transition to a non-toxic future is almost inconceivable.

This visualization situates the toxic place in context, first historically, and second spatially, depicting the proposed housing development as stuck between the past weapon development facilities and the enduring interstate highway system. As such, the visualization provides an important frame for the visualization that precedes it.

In general, I wonder if you might be able to provide more details relating to the toxicity of the site. One question I am left with is why the spaces previously dedicated to the facilities for munitions development represent a heightened danger. Were these building structures themselves contaminated? The pollution from the highway is more immediately imaginable, but I require more information to understand the implications of the munitions development program.

As an archival photograph taken by the Navy of its own facility, this image works well to provide a sense of the historical context. The grainy grayscale and in-set captions enhance this sense of temporality. 

I think this image works well on its own in combination with the caption. However, the historicizing aesthetic of the image might also lend itself well to being repurposed into a collage, for example juxtaposing this photograph with black and white newspaper clippings, or framing it with a map of the area that could further situate the site in a broader landscape of hills and highways. 

This visualization combination shines a light on debates over what differentiates a toxic space from a liveable space. At the intersection of the 20th-century military-industrial complex and 21st-century housing policies, 3202 East Foothill Boulevard exemplifies the invisible debilitating violence of unscrupulous city planning. 

This visualization shows how people are developing new habits and patterns of behavior in response to a contaminated landscape. Residents are rejecting the official recommendations of local authorities, feeling out for themselves how to cope with living in and near places with uncertain levels of toxicity. The image-text combination seems to suggest a spirit of curiosity, resilience, and playfulness in the face of these challenges.

The caption clearly spells out how the place in question is toxic and how people are responding to this toxicity. I would like to read a little bit more about how this has influenced these residents' understandings and orientations towards radioactivity and how it has impacted their relationship to their home. The caption seems to suggest a bit of brazenness but I'd like to know more! I'd also like to find out how the author's own experiences in this place have influenced their take on the dynamics of toxicity.

This image was created by the ethnographer. It is a photo of fern scrolls in the hands of a local farmer. What I find interesting about this photo is it doesn't strike you as toxic at all. The scale of focus is pretty tight. All we can see are a person's midriff and the delicate scrolls they are holding gently in their rough and textured hands. There is almost nothing to give away the location of the photo or its recent history of disaster. I think this plays into the authors point that there is no way to tell whether or not these scrolls are "toxic" by the look of them.