Las Vegas is a lifelong project rooted in my childhood memories.
In the early 1960s, my parents regularly drove seven hours from San Diego through the Mojave Desert to spend weekends in the downtown casino district off Fremont Street, long before corporate redevelopment reshaped the area.
While they gambled for hours, my older brother and I were left at the swimming pool of Benny Binion’s Horseshoe Club, entrusted to hotel staff—an arrangement unimaginable today.
For years, the city’s spectacle barely registered with me. Even after my discharge from military service in 1973, Las Vegas was simply a familiar destination, and I was following a path much like my parents’. It wasn’t until I discovered photography that the city began to reveal itself differently.
By the mid-1980s, I returned with a camera, walking Fremont Street, its side streets, and later Las Vegas Boulevard, experiencing the city through observation rather than participation. Photography became a way to slow down, to look closely at the spaces between glamour and decay, permanence and disappearance.
After moving from the West Coast to the East Coast in the 1990s, I did not return to Las Vegas for over a decade. When I did, I was struck by the scale of change—the corporate transformation of downtown and Las Vegas Boulevard, and the disappearance of many iconic hotels that once defined the city.
On my returns to the desert city, I would spend four to five days staying in a modest hotel off the Strip. Rising before dawn, after having my cup of coffee, I would wander the length of Las Vegas Boulevard, photographing with my Leica M4 and M7 35mm cameras, documenting a city that is continuously being erased and rebuilt, while still haunted by its past.
After more than forty years and a dozen trips to the desert city, I have watched it change in ways I could never have imagined. What was once a glittering, chaotic playground ruled by the Mob has been reshaped into a polished world of corporate interests. Neon lights still flash, but the laughter, the risk, and the secret corners of my youth are fading. My goal now is to capture the last traces of that golden era before it disappears entirely beneath mega-themed resorts, gleaming boutiques, and kitchens commanded by celebrity chefs.
About Michael Ruggiero
Michael Ruggiero Jr. is an American photographer with a career spanning more than four decades, rooted in documentary and photojournalistic traditions. He began his professional work in the 1980s as a staff photographer for the San Diego Union-Tribune and later worked for publications such as The East Hampton Star and East Hampton Press. This background shaped a visual language grounded in long-term observation, clarity, and a deep respect for everyday life.
His personal projects focus on American communities, labor, and social spaces, often explored through black-and-white photography. Series such as Over the Road, The Last Baymen of Amagansett, Anonymous Citizens, and Quarrymen reflect a sustained commitment to immersive storytelling and human-centered narratives.
Ruggiero’s work has been widely exhibited and published internationally, with solo and group exhibitions at institutions including the Center for Fine Art Photography, All About Photography, Salmagundi Art Club, and the Heckscher Museum of Art. His photographs have received numerous awards and have appeared in publications such as Black & White Magazine, Shots Magazine, The Photo Review, and Street Photography Magazine. [Official Website]
