Back again at Fort Worden. I thought the stair railings were exceptional. There has to be a reason for the curving rather than straight handrails. I'm not sure why they were formed in that manner. I wanted to make this image part of the Labyrinth series, but there was nothing to connect to on either edge.
Ah, now here's what I was writing about a few days ago. If you were standing in this space, which way would you go? Which is the way out and which are the false escape routes? The visual clues are there, but the light seems to be bending around corners and through doorways.
I made this photograph so long ago, I can't remember just where it is located on the Oregon Coast. I would like to think it's somewhere around Depoe Bay, but I'm not sure. We have photographs as visual reminders of events and experiences and the images transcend the actual facts and remembrances of the event. Either that, or it's just another sign of my aging.
A "single" image from Fort Worden (or maybe Fort Casey on Whidbey Island). The original project concept was to present the viewer with two ways out from their viewpoint. One exit was always to be dark, or in the shadows, the other was filled with light. A second version of the project expanded the concept to present the viewer with multiple exits with conflicting or confusing visual clues as to which exit was "correct."
The walls of Fort Worden take a real beating from graffiti. This is not graffiti art, but the usual name, date, vulgar language and other tagging that is purely destructive to the site. The Park service continually paints over the offending words and images with whatever color paint they can find and it is done without a whole of care or neatness. This painting without care turns out to be incredibly artistic in terms of design. The great part about this is the art show continually changes with whatever color is in stock and the layering of all the previous work. It's quite charming.
Pioneer Village was a treasure trove of Americana and the incredibly wonderful mishmash of time, place and the culture of the high plains wheat farmer.
The upper floors of the Hastings Building were empty of people. But they were not empty of the things that people left behind, or stored and never came back for. There was always something behind every door, in every room that reminded you the building was not empty, just not occupied at the time.
We spent two one week photo safaris near Crosby, North Dakota. We photographed farms, abandoned schools, the landscape and a city park called Pioneer Village. Pioneer Village was a collection of buildings and farm equipment from the first couple of decades of the twentieth century. Farmers never throw anything away. They keep whatever they buy, use it up, wear it out and then save it because you can never tell what else you can use it for.