Old, abandoned buildings catch the attention of my photographic eye. I’m unsure if that’s part of my pathology or if I just like thinking about the history of these old spaces. I took this image in December of 2005. I haven’t been to this area since I took this photograph, so I’m unsure what’s there now. However, I’m certain that some hipster developer snapped up the decayed building and the land who replaced history a coffee shop or a yoga studio. This area of Fort Worth has seen a great rejuvenation these past years, so I could almost guarantee that this building is no longer there.
I understand the need to tear down the old and build the new, as change can be good. But I’m drawn to what was. I look at these old spaces, and I wonder who had been there, what their lives were like, what kinds of positive relationships did they build with their families or the community. I wonder about the people who laid the foundation and who painted the walls. I question the type of font the owners/builders used for the store sign. I like imagining what was.
One thing I like about this photo is the mixed use of building materials: bricks, wood, cement, and at one point, glass for the windows. The weathered plywood tells me that someone abandoned the building a decade or more ago. What I love about the image, though, is that this hardware store is at the end of a street “T” street. (I took this image from my car as I faced the building). I had to stop at a stop sign, then I could turn left or right. The street sign shows me which way I can turn. However, I don’t know that I needed a sign to tell me that I couldn’t keep driving straight into the building. But that’s just me.
But back to photographing and appreciating abandoned spaces: yes, I love them, but I see a need to shift my focus away from the past. It is time, I believe, to think about the future.
I’m in the third and final stage of life. There’s more time behind me than what’s in front of me. My point is that I need to look forward for a while to what’s left, to what I can build or create or document. I can appreciate the old, abandoned buildings, but at this point, “old” doesn’t teach me much. I’m wondering what I can teach the generations that follow me by what I build or create today. When they look at my “old and abandoned” creations, what will they know? What questions will they have? Will they remember me?