Real photographers can probably find a million things wrong with the above picture. I, however, can’t. I really am proud of the color, the look, and the light. So sue me.
Why photograph abandoned things, like this “rust” from the side of a smokestack in Westover, West Virginia? Because it was once important; it once mattered. Even though it doesn’t anymore, some craftsman once spent considerable time working the word “rust” out of metal. These are things that ought to be remembered.
I’m very happy to say that I’m having a small photo show in August, where I will be displaying my favorite abandoned places. It’ll be on August 3 at Wild Zero Studios, in the evening time. Think of it as my little attempt to make those places slightly less forgotten.
I know that there is a good photo here. This place, taken from the same factory as the the photo below this post, is a huge factory floor. Its tin roof is rusted out, with tiny holes all over it. On a sunny day, it looks like a starry sky. It is impressive in person.
But photographed? Not so much, and I’m not entirely sure how to fix that.
Sorry for the lack of posting.
I’d like to believe that I don’t post regularly talking about shots that I particularly liked. Nothing is so cumbersome as somebody talking about their own alleged goodness. That said, I very much like the shot above.
First, I like its depth. Find the ladder in the middle and you’ll note that the photo was taken from probably 40 to 50 feet up in the air, high in an abandoned factory in Westover, West Virginia. My friend Evan was with me, and we scaled the ladder, and then the busted stairwell, until we made it to the roof of this particular structure. I took this shot coming back down.
Second, I like its depth. I was 40 or 50 feet up in the air, which is a lot if you’re me, because I’m terrified of heights. It is a problem which seems to be subsiding some recently. Obviously, I made it up as far as I did. Perhaps the desire to get the sort of shots that I liked outweighed my fear? Or, perhaps, I’m dumb.
I golf too. That’s worth considering. Pretty tough to get injured playing golf, except for the occaisonally sore back. But this other hobby of mine - exploring abandoned places - strikes me as being somewhat less than sensible. The above photo was taken by my friend Ageless Amy, a photographer herself who accompanies me to these farflung locations.
In this case, the target was an ammunition/munitions factory in Westover, West Virginia. It was beautiful, with two enormous warehouses, and the remains of the multistory building that the above picture was taken in. Somebody had left a ladder from the ground floor to the second - once the second floor was accessible, the other three or four or five stories were available. I didn’t go higher (a fear of heights takes over at some point), but the fact remains that this place, once so vitally important, now lays empty and lonely.
There is an appeal to such a thing.
I think that these buildings are slated for demolition. They’re located in downtown Charleston, South Carolina. If they’re not actually being demolished, they’re working their way toward the same end result.
I’ll be honest: I love the color here. Which isn’t to say that the picture itself is particularly good; that little blue UFO over the telephone wire is an irritation. But the colors in the picture are fantastic.
One of the things I like about taking pictures is that I only ever have to satisfy myself. I could not care less if this picture doesn’t appeal to you. Obviously, there are better photographers out there, and you should visit their sites to find the truly good stuff.
Soon, I’m putting some photographs on public display. At that point, I suppose I’m going to have to worry about the response of others to my work.
I drove around for a few hours taking pictures. Getting out into the air felt good. Somebody called me eccentric the other day for going around town, taking pictures. Perhaps this is true.
This barn was near Cassville, a town outside of Morgantown that is disappearing into the woods. I play golf with men who tell me that it was once a place with a grocery store, with a barber shop, with two bars, with a pool hall. Now? None of these businesses remain, and the population is aging away.
I was driving along a side road when I saw this barn up on a hill. I rolled down my window and took two or three pictures before a truck came up behind me. I couldn’t park anywhere, so I drove away. I have to go back to get more pictures, because that barn wasn’t the only crumbling structure. There were a few silos, and a farmhouse. These places were once important, but they’ll never be important again.
Still, they should be remembered.
Yesterday, I went driving with Ageless Amy, an experienced photographer. (For a better explanation of her, see my site’s character page.) We went west from Morgantown, to Blacksville, then north toward Waynesburg, PA, then doubled back through Greensboro, PA, and then through Bobtown, PA, before finally heading home.
We found two good places to take photographs - the old, and very abandoned, National School in National, near Booth, which is probably fifteen minutes from Morgantown. Then we explored an abandoned drilling company, where I have taken pictures before. We each took numerous shots.
But this grafitti above I found outside of Bobtown, at an old mining site, the Shannopin Coal Company. There were four or five brick buildings there, each with the windows busted out, each covered in ivy, each left to the weather. In compound’s General Office, I found the above, painted in blue ink. It isn’t as if the picture is particularly good - it wasn’t one of the ones that made me happiest - but what is to make of the message?
Whose mother is, in fact, Jewish? The painter’s? Somebody with the painter? Somebody who would never actually see the graffiti? It seems such a strange thing to take the time to paint.
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