Tag Archives: Farm houses
Every photograph is a remembrance: of a person, a place, sometimes just a feeling. The instant an exposure is made we begin to move away from that moment at speed. The photograph is made and we have magic in our hands. The photograph is longing made real, no matter the initial intent, for the moment is lost. Out on the road the dead houses stand, a reminder that time is ephemeral. Temporary. Our strength is in knowing that this moment is here and gone faster then we can imagine.
I stood south of Interstate 57, still further south of Chicago. The farm was deserted in the morning sun, a ghost along the highway. I made several images, bringing the farm along with me, tucking it away for another Sunday morning.