It happens often. I am supposed to do something mundane like go to the supermarket, but rather I throw my camera in the car looking for a photo adventure. The freezer is designed just for days like this when food is low priority. Yesterday I came upon this barn on Rte 17. What drew me into the scene was the hay that looks like the sea leading up to grand Newport mansion. Typically on stormy looking days, I like to emphasize the clouds in a photo opportunity. This leads me to wanting to create an HDR style shot. HDR is achieved by stacking photos taken in the same spot at different exposures so you end up with interesting lighting effects. I cursed myself as I realized I left my tripod in the closet. Photographers never stop trying to make the photo that perfectly defines life. Since I have started writing this blog, what has become equally as important as taking the clean shot is telling its story. As I see it, this barn has a distinct sadness to it. The clouds seem to add to the melancholy feeling and I have blued them up to help express this feeling. As I entered the field a sign stood hammered to a fence telling of the barn's numbered days. The sign mentioned a public hearing from a couple of years back that was planning for the development of 25 homes in the barn's place. The beautiful field wrapped it's golden arms around this senior member of the community that would someday be gone. As I walked around the barn the view completely changed. Someone had thought enough to provide its front with a facelift, while the back simply crumpled into the past. Its aging body was showing signs of wear even though it kept a fresh layer of make-up applied for everyone to see. For some reason, the people around her have forgotten her usefulness. Now they would rather have many dwellings of 3000 square feet with radiant heat and internet access throughout. Yet she still sits with her story kept to herself as everyone zooms by. Like a senior citizen living in a eldercare, I felt guilty knowing that the world spun round her and she was lonely. In my head I vowed to call my 97 year old grandmother when I got home. Upon departing, the reality was clear that her time was short. I felt better in seeing her and saying thank you. Her beauty is forever etched in my mind and this image will help keep a memory of her as she becomes a thing of the past.
1 Comment
5/29/2011 01:15:36 pm
All entities have a beginning and an end. Hopefully, this old barn served its purpose while it was strong and beautiful and served it well. Then it has the right to fade away. The question really is, what do we do with our lives to make it worthwhile?
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