For years now, our weekends have included road trips that have taken us to many cities, states, farms and out of the way eating destinations. Some of my favorite have been out to the countryside where we get to enjoy things that us city folk don’t get to enjoy during the work week. And with all the roadside attractions and calls to “Stop the car. I’m getting out.” It’s a near miracle we ever get to our final destination. With all the recent verbal onslaghts of “People live here, you know.” and “You’re on private property.” I have learned to choose the ground I tread on lithely. In this case, with a 50 mm lens. I was able to keep a safe distance. Though no one showed up or emerged from the collapsing structure. I definitely felt a presence and history as I walked among the ruins.
As we were on our way to breakfast this morning. We passed an old deserted diner just off the main road. Having packed the car for a show I never made it to just nights before. I was loaded for bear and fully prepared to indulge in one of my favorite past, present and future times. As much as the decaying outside facade of Mom’s Diner intrigued me. I knew the inside, if I could find my way inside, would be the real reward. After finding two easily accessible entrance ways. I managed to maneuver my way past a collection of debris, leading me to prize of crumbling brick and the wooden shel. One that originally framed what was once provided nourishment for travelers and truckers alike. One of the key elements of what draws me to these sites is that hint of risk and voice in the back of your head that tells you “You know, you really shouldn’t be here.” The rush, the buzz and the feeling that you’re alive. I hope it never leaves me.
Franklin St. East Windsor
As much as I love my wife, family and small circle of friends. I find that when it comes to certain things. It’s best to go it alone. And as much as my wife inspires and supports my love of all of the different aspects of what I shoot. She is without a doubt “The worst case scenario’s” most vocal advocate. So much so that I’d sometimes leave certain excursions as well as elements of my work to my own special me time. For, after an hour or so of “What if we’re trespassing?” “Are you sure we can go here?” “What if we get a ticket?” or the best one of all “What if he kills one of us?” I’m ready to trade in my camera for a book on bird watching. While it’s often a good thing to have a second set of eyes. Sometimes the additional voice in you ear is enough to make you want to go it alone.