I work in road construction and often find myself in some of the most rural districts in South Carolina. As such, I spend a lot of time in my work truck driving between job sites on back country roads. On one such road, on which I was working during a particular difficult period of my marriage, I kept driving past this same old barn. Over and over, I would pass it as I drove from one end of the job site to the other going about my work and each time I did, something about it would call out to me. Grab my attention. Try to speak to me in a way. It would give me a little bit of a haunted feeling. Not overwhelming, but rather very subtle, like an image that you end up dreaming about because youve seen it during the day, but didnt have time to stop and think about.
I stopped and took a picture of it with my phone.
Now, I dont fancy myself an artist. I dont know much about photography. It was never really about trying to be a photographer or an artist. It was about needing to stop and consider these old barns. I pass dozens of these type old abandon barns each day while driving down this road or that road. Some of them would speak to me and some of them would not. I started taking pictures of the ones which called out to me during my down times on the job.
After collecting more than a few, I started putting them on my Facebook. Filed in a folder titled I dont know why I take these pictures, but the truth is that I knew exactly why I took them. I just didnt think that anyone else would understand. The reason is simply this; they exist. Furthermore, they exist despite their obvious mistreatment. Forgotten, abused, neglected, no longer valued, still they exist. Its likely that not a person in the world would care if any of these structures crashed down into a pile of kindle sticks during the next big storm save the inconvenience of having to clean up the mess. Theyre probably viewed as nuncences, eyesores, unusable blemishes simply wasting space. Their owners would most likely rather that they not be there and regret that they were ever put there to begin with. Still, they exist. Perhaps more accurately; they refuse not to exist. Despite being unwanted, there they remain. Despite the end of their maintenance and repair, they stand. Despite absence of respect shown to them, they respect themselves enough to not yield to this world. To not listen to those who would say that they are worthless, without purpose or without value. They exist, and each day that they do is a testament to their creator. A faith in the skill and love and intent with which they were built. As if each straight line that remains is saying I was built with purpose. I do have value and regardless of what this world tells me or how I may weather because of it, it cannot take that away.
To me there is a grace about them and I think each one is beautiful, but its not the reason I photograph them. They're actually self-portraits, or what I wish a self-portrait would be. I see myself in each one. These barns understood me during that very difficult period of my life. They understood how I felt in a way that I hadn't been able to convey to anyone else. They understood what it felt like to be forgotten, beat down by this world, broken. They understand me, because they are me. I'm one of them!
In a way I think we all are abandoned barns. Put up in this world with purpose, by a skillful, loving hand. Our fragile bodies weathering away from the continued exposure to the worldly elements and are often feel devalued or even forgotten by this world because of it. But still with purpose, still with grace, still with pride in the love with which we were created, we still stand. We still exist, and because we do, we bring glory to our Creator.