January 15, 2010

Tonight’s subject is a house that, at one time was probably part of Cannon Electric Company, which owned much of the surrounding area. Sitting empty and scarred, a for sale sign stands in front, waiting for a buyer that will probably never come. Paint, slowly tearing itself from peeling paint, it’s timber rotting, only a miracle could save it from the wrecking ball.

Old houses, cars, tools, I’m drawn to objects with history. Tonight I finally understand why. As a young boy I loved being with my Great Grandfather in his work shed. I yearned to go inside and explore, but it wasn’t a place I could visit on my own. The door was locked, and we would only enter when tools were needed for something, or to get our fishing poles for a day at the lake. Inside was to be in magical place, full of mystery and treasures. Rusting metal boxes, jars filled with nuts and bolts, and dark ancient tools. There were shelves out of reach, and things rounded and worn hanging from this or that. Wrenches used so often, my Grandfathers hands had worn them smooth. Like so many who lived through the great depression, he knew how to fix things. Along with my Grandmother, even late in life when they were financially sound, they simply worked with what they had.

I visited their old house last year, and I could almost see them standing at the front door. Tonight I am smiling. Yes, I like things that are new, but I also fix things that are old. One day my boxes will rust. My tools will become dark, rounded, and worn. One day I’ll be a ghost in the timber.

Ghost in the Timber – Ave 33 – Los Angeles
ISO 1250, 24-70 @ 24mm, f/2.8 @ 1/2 sec – tripod – street lighting

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