Wednesday, July 20, 2005


I promised to tell you stories of my summer journeys. I feel like starting near the end.

My husband's brother jokingly tells us that we need to buy a hotel. With two blended families, it's the only way we'll ever be able to live under the same roof. They have five kids between them, we have three between us. He tells us of an abandoned hotel on the North/South Carolina border.

I've always had a thing for abandoned structures. Don't tell me buildings don't "feel" because they do - or maybe I just feel something when I'm standing amongst the forgotten, unwanted, unsalvageable pieces.

This 50's motel almost made it. Someone evidently tried to fix her up, but ultimately gave up and let her go back to nature...or left her naked in the mountains to be raped by vandals.

My lens gobbled up shots in an attempt to appease the artist behind it. I will always love abandoned structures because I forget to guard my thoughts, and the walls come down. Only in those moments can I admit to myself that when I'm amongst the forgotten, unwanted, and unsalvageable, I'm at home.