Between 2019 and 2025, I worked at a company located in the Belenzinho neighborhood, in the East Zone of São Paulo, Brazil. Along with the neighborhoods of Mooca and Brás, also in the same region, Belenzinho was part of one of the city’s largest industrial hubs in the early twentieth century, when it concentrated factories from a range of economic sectors.
I hold photography as an everyday practice. Between 2019 and 2025, I regularly photographed the path I walked between the Belenzinho metro station and my workplace, as well as walks around the neighborhood after lunch.
During this period, São Paulo went through an intense process of real estate speculation. After decades of economic decline brought on by deindustrialization, Belenzinho has been the stage for countless residential real estate developments.
As a consequence of this process, large factory complexes – their walls painted in somber colors and covered in graffiti – vanish without a trace. This opens up broad spaces, giving rise to an unusual perspective for São Paulo, a dense city where it is rare to see the horizon.
At the same time, one notices the relentless multiplication of the same – standardized buildings that suggest a way of life grounded in a private understanding of the city, with parking garages, gourmet balconies, leisure areas, and so on. The presence of these condominiums in the neighborhood strikes me as dubious; it reminds me of a collage – enormous, generic elements inserted into a neighborhood that, until recently, contained only small houses and abandoned factories.
This transformation follows well-defined stages. Everything begins with demolition. Next comes an improvised parking lot, exposing the backs of neighboring houses and buildings – walls and traces of former structures. This stage can last for years.
Just as we are about to grow used to the sales stand, it disappears without a trace – demolished even faster than the old building was. At this point, metal hoardings try to conceal the excavation and the drilling of the towers’ foundations. There is a sense that the building already begins in ruin: its finishes just a half-hearted attempt to hide that fact.
Little by little, still hesitant, the building takes in its residents. During the day, it remains impenetrable. At night, however, its windows turn into small illuminated holes. Inside, one can glimpse families having dinner, children playing video games.
About the author
André Leite Coelho is a visual artist, educator and researcher. His artistic work explores the relationship between technology, perception, memory, and the interplay of text and image. As a researcher, he focuses on the history of photography and contemporary visual culture. He is a professor in the Department of Visual Arts at ECA-USP (University of São Paulo’s School of Communications and Arts), specializing in Photography, Multimedia, and Intermedia.
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