ABANDONED PLACES

Abandoned places yell my name to make sure I capture what's left of them. I could write a book about abandoned places. The pages would be filled with more questions than answers. Who lived there? Why was it abandoned? Why did the business fold? What did they talk about over dinner? What was their lifestyle like? What made them happy? What made them sad? The list goes on.

These are the philosophical and social questions, but I also need to combine them with the question, "What made me stop?" The answer to that question helps me decide how I want to photograph the subject before me. I'm looking for the best angles, lighting, composition, mood, and whatever else I can introduce that best translates my thoughts or feelings that made me stop in the first place. 

These Anasazi cliff houses always amaze me. We can't answer philosophical and social questions from our current-day perspective, and it's impossible to ask them the many questions we have. I chose late afternoon to get the best angle and quality of lighting on these dwellings in Mesa Verde National Park in southwestern Colorado.

I found more in north-central New Mexico, in Bandelier National Monument. These honeycomb-like homes begged questions too. For this image, I closed in tighter. To me, this image asks simply, "Where does that ladder lead to?" What questions do you ask?

Now we fast-forward to more modern times, several miles north of here to north Denver, Colorado.

One of my students alerted me to this old abandoned house north of Denver--Thornton. She said she thought she could get permission for us to go inside and photograph. Great, I thought, and I thanked her for it. We were not disappointed. Again, what questions do this dining room, adjoining living room, and collapsed floor beg of you? A wide-angle lens allowed me to translate my questions into a story-telling image. I converted it to black and white for historical emphasis. Quite honestly, I was afraid the floor might give in below our feet. I was prepared for a significant emotional event.  Unfortunately, that house is gone now. A victim of urban renewal. 

                                                        

I found this lone house in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they didn't like neighbors and preferred to live in solitude in the shadows of those big mountains in Colorado. If you squint, you can see the Great Sand Dunes in the distance. The jet contrails add to the mystery.

I wondered who lived here? Was it just a little neighborhood in the mountains? Were they miners' residences? When mining lost its luster, did the families just disappear, in search of new beginnings? I wanted to show the context in which these old shacks were situated. They were up against the mountains on one side, and a creek below on the other.  

Oh, if those walls could talk. I can see children running up those stairs as their mom screams a warning to be careful. 

Here is another abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. I added a lot of sky to add to the feeling of isolation. I say isolation, but perhaps to them, it was a comfortable and peaceful isolation. You can see the lone highway that runs by it. 

I'll finish with this beauty. It seems like such a small space. I can only assume a family lived there. But, they did the best they could with what they had. And I'm sure they made the best of it. As they say, you don't miss what you don't have. I photographed it around Christmas time and someone had placed a red Christmas ribbon on it, which led me to convert the image to black and white, except for the ribbon. 

So, take some day trips this year in your county or state and see what historic stories you can find. They're out there just waiting to aim your lens at them as they hide their stories in secret.