Art house

I've been driving past this house for weeks now - eager to get into the place... but its location makes it near impossible to get in to without someone seeing you sneak past the posted "No Trespassing" signs on the shed at the entrance of the driveway ...so I decided I'd go early in the morning on a Saturday when the neighbors were sure to still be asleep and I could do my "Tiny little ninja" impression and get inside before anyone noticed...

I made my way past the shed and spotted various things laying about in the yard - a couch and a matress as well as a couple of old broken down cars that were being consumed by black berry bushes (WHAT IS IT with blackberry bushes devouring old abandoned houses/cars/sheds/anything interesting that I might want to take photos of ...anyway??)

After getting up enough nerve to push the door open - I stepped into the kitchen - the sink was missing, but there were alot of dishes smashed up on the floor, more garbage than Id have liked to be stepping in and a lovely "there's something in that icebox that you probably dont want to know about" smell - so I didnt stick around too long in the kitchen and moved to the hall where the bathroom was located.


Quite frankly, I was half expecting alot worse after seeing the state of the kitchen but thankfully there was no "You should probably be wearing a gas mask" smell coming from anywhere in the bathroom and so I snapped a few pictures, a self portrait and took a few minutes looking at the drawings on the wall before I went back further into the house.

I was starting to get a little disappointed - the last house I was in had all of that amazing graffitti covering the walls and ceilings and I was really hoping for some of the same in this one but so far I hadnt seen much except for a pencil drawing on the wall of the bathroom...



I started to get a little excited when I rounded the corner and found what looks to be the main living area of the house. I saw a few drawings and paintings on the wall and snapped a few pictures but was no where near prepared for what I would see when I stepped completely into the room.




This wasnt graffitti - it was a full blown painting. I couldnt believe the detail, the thought put into each portion of the artwork. I actually had to sit down for a few minutes and just sit and look at it all. Someone spent hours and hours creating these murals - I cant believe they are just rotting away now. Where did these people go? Why is no one living here anymore?

I found more penciled in drawings that never got to experience the joy of completion - and realized I had been in the house for alot longer than I had intended (I had no idea I was stepping into an art gallery) - and still had the entire upstairs to explore...


but as I placed my foot onto the first step - it dawned on me that I might very well end up startling some homeless guy awake at 8:30am on a Saturday morning and could end up in a situation that might not end so well...(The house is near a homeless camp) so I decided maybe it wasnt such a good idea to go upstairs without having someone else there with me - but I plan to go back with my new sharper lens and get better detailed shots of the murals. (any one volunteer to be my buddy?? ;) ahem)

You know you want to go inside.... ;)

Jack Attack

This is an old house off the freeway by the mall that Ive been wanting to get photos of for years - and I never could because:
A) its at the end of a street that has houses all around it and theres no where to park where I wont get spotted.
B) the house up until friday was surrounded by 10 years worth of blackberry bushes that were literally 10-12 feet high and about 20 feet deep.
C) theres a creepy old man that lives next door and sits on his porch waiting for "rotten teenagers" to come and try to get into the old house and vandalize it.

So - this morning I got up early in hopes the C (creepy old guy) would still be sleeping and I might finally be able to take photos of the place now that the construction crew that plans to demolish the place tore down all the blackberry bushes so I could get near the thing...but lo and behold, Old C was sitting out on his porch enjoying his morning cup of coffee and watched me wander up the street and start taking pictures of the house.

I stepped foot into the dirt where the berry bushes used to thrive and he stood up, balled his fists up, shook one at me and hollered at me - not really sure what it was that he said, as Im pretty sure it was some kind of Grumpy old guy language that Im not fluent in - so he stomped over to where I was standing and raised his eyebrow at me, crossed his arms and said "yer not thinking of trying to get in that old house now are you?" and I shyly told him "no...I just like taking pictures of broken down, rusty, falling apart things...sometimes...."

He raised his eyebrow even further up onto his forehead (I swear...it was like 3 inches higher than it normally was...) and then broke out in a big old toothless grin, unfolded his arms, put his hands into his pockets and said with a laugh "well in that case, you could just take pictures of me - Im broken down and rusty...and at least I wont letcha fall through a rotted floor and getcha killed!"

We introduced ourselves (his name was Jack) and shook hands and I asked how long the house had been there and he said he wasnt sure but hed been there at his house for over 15 years and it was there when he moved in. I convinced him I wouldnt try to go inside but asked if he thought it would be ok if I went around the backside and got a picture from there - he told me as long as he could still see me, he wouldnt send his wife after me with a rolling pin.

I got the raised eyebrow again until I promised not to get to close to it - then he walked back to his porch, picked up his cup and watched me until I got to my car. He waved as I left and the last thing I saw as I passed his driveway was him standing with his hands in his pants pocket, shaking his head.

So - I didnt go in...but I did finally get to get some pictures of it. Just wished they hadnt boarded it up with new plywood...it was so dreamy when it still had all of its old broken windows and dangly doors...*sigh*

Haunted...

I revisited the "Anarchist" house this weekend with my new photographer friend Sandi - only this time we battled the blackberry bushes (or rather Sandi destroyed them with her mighty mighty snippers of DOOM!) and managed to get ourselves into the back door so we could explore the inside - My first stop was the kitchen....

It appeared to me that there had been some kind of small smouldering fire in there at one time - though there was no stove, (Nor do I remember seeing any sort of sink in there now that I think about it...and wonder if this house is old enough that they didnt have running water indoors when it was first built?) - there was a dishwasher ...but no apparent source of water for it...

I made my way back to the first bedroom "The CAVE" - which was completely filled with what most would consider garbage and filth - and dont get me wrong...I was pretty disgusted with the incredible amount of "stuff" piled up in the middle of the room - but I guess Im odd ...because I wasnt really thinking about how disgusting it was in there (and thankfully, it didnt smell all that bad either) - I was fascinated by all the "things" laying around - they belonged to someone once...why were they here? Why did they leave them behind? Who did they belong to and who were they?

Of all of the writing and graffitti on the walls (and ceilings) - I found this to be my favorite by far - "I want 2 B up high where the wind is born and peace, solitude, silence is king. The trees whisper only among themselves. Cogito Ergo Sum" - I found it quite beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. "Cogito Ergo Sum" is latin for "I think, therefore I am." - so many homeless people are treated like they are sub human...passed by on the streets without a second glance from anyone - invisible to society because we dont want to acknowledge their pain, their situations, the fact that it could very well be US standing there with a sign on the corner someday... They think. They feel. They write poetry and have dreams too....

This house has been haunting my thoughts since I stepped foot on the property a few weeks ago...Im seeing ghosts in my mind - a family lived here once, maybe they moved away, maybe something horrible happened - and then it was left empty and the wanderers found it...and made it a home. There were so many thoughts scrawled across the walls and Im finding myself laying awake the past few nights with images of people I havent ever met - imagining what life was like for them there - who they were before they found themselves in this situation and if they found a way back out eventually...




I finally got around to the front bedroom that had originally caught my attention on my first visit to the property - the only thing I could see from the outside was the writing on the ceiling and I knew I wanted to get back in there to see the rest. I wasnt disappointed. There were alot of angry thoughts, attempts at humor and numerous drawings on the walls. It seemed to be alot different than the graffitti I found in "The Cave" - and I could see the different personalities that had all spent time in these rooms.





Before heading up the steps to the attic, Sandi and I took turns taking photos of the bathroom where she found the frog faced toilet seat staring back at her from beneath the piles of clothing, beer bottles and various magazines laying about. I noticed the religious booklet sitting next to the toilet, on the floor - it just seemed slightly humorous to me (its location at the edge of the toilet)- as well as thought provoking - why was it left open at that page? Were they making a statement for whoever found their way inside next?



Once upstairs, Sandi and I both got to feeling a little unsettled - as we found the main living space of whoever had called this house a makeshift home at one time. There was a slight hesitation at the top of the stairs as we both immediately thought of "What if there are dead bodies up here" or "What if someone is in there waiting for us..." - but we soon realized the place was devoid of any sort of human soul...except what was left on the walls and in the corners of the room.



There was one single matress in the house - torn and ragged, ripped and stained - I didn't want to step on it or really go near it, not just for the "Obvious" reason, but because I found myself feeling a little like an intruder...stepping on the one place these people were able to rest and dream - where no one else could tell them that their dreams were impossible or out of reach. When they finally closed their eyes at night - their dreams were the only thing that no one else could touch. Dreams are the only things that truely ever belong to us and no one can take them away. No one.



I found this little army guy nailed to the wall above the bed. I found it rather interesting that he's not wearing a gun - he's a look out...keeping watch while they sleep...

I think Sandi and I were both quite taken aback by the pretty plastic flowers that had been put up along the rafters - obviously a woman had been living there at one point and tried to make the room feel a little more "homey" and give it a softer woman's touch. It was odd to see the flowers there across from a few random clipped magazine photos - a movie still of "The Planet of the Apes" and what appears to be an asian man having surgery performed on him while he's still awake and alert...it was quite the contrast...

I spent a few minutes up there by myself after Sandi went back downstairs - the emotional part of it all was starting to sink in. There were a few toys laying about as well and I think the Mom in me started to imagine the horrible reality that there are children out there living in places like this...or worse - and mother's/father's that struggle every day to feed them, keep them safe and live with the guilt and shame of not being able to provide something better for their children...I went home and hugged my little girl until she wiggled free.

Before I left the house, I wandered down the basement steps to see the wonders it held in its depths...nothing spectacular really...just more garbage and broken appliances...and a typewriter. I wonder what kind of stories have been written on that thing...and where they are now.

Sandi and I both agree that the discovery of this book in the main living room is probably the most important. I dont understand society. I dont think anyone ever will. Society created this house - the people that lived in it and the people that slowly died every day within these walls.

I know that a part of me will never be the same after visiting this house. Its haunting my thoughts - I never want to go back there - but yet part of me does...to visit the ghosts.

*To see more photos from my adventure there click here
*To see Sandi's point of view from our adventure click here

Totally Rejected Anarchists

I've driven past this house for about 3 years and havent ever had the time to stop and photograph it - well thats not true...I tried to about a year ago and went during the summer - and found out the hard way that the place is surrounded by wild blackberry bushes and I wasn't quite ready to have my legs ripped apart just to get a closer look...

But this time...I wore thick boots, wool socks and tights under my jeans and felt like a warrior heading into battle as I trampled those evil shrubberies under my mighty feet of doom!! There was no stopping me from getting around to the back of the building or peeking into the windows!

Unfortunately - Im short. The windows were up too high and I couldnt see into them even if I wanted to...and the front steps were missing and I wasnt too sure I wanted to brave the rotted out front porch if I did manage to pull myself up high enough to get inside - so I had to settle for walking around the other side of the house in hopes of finding a window designed for the vertically challenged peeping Tom's out there...

And I found one!!! I was able to stand up on some old metal radiator thingy majigger (Im so technical ...) and point my camera into the house - though I wasnt tall enough to actually look through the lens myself and just held it up and snapped, hoping the auto focus would catch something interesting - I didnt realize how much Id find when I looked through my photos later on.

All of the walls, ceiling, doors...everything - had writing on it. One of these days Im going to take a photo buddy with me to get in there and take pictures of all of the crazy words, the thoughts of the homeless, angry, rebellious people that squatted there for what looks like about 11 years -

Im sure there are some amazing pieces of art spray painted on the walls in that house - I hope someone gets in there and photographs it before the county demolishes the place in their widening of the highway project....so many stories - so many lives - I always say I wish the walls could talk - and apparently in this house its not just the walls that have something to say, but the window panes, door frames, and ceilings do as well...

I wandered around to the front of the house against my better judgement - its right on a busy street where people were able to see me poking around - and could have easily had the cops called on me but luckily no one bothered.

It looks like the upstairs windows are boarded up - Im dying to know what is up there, but not willing to die to find out. So Ill save that floor for another day...Man I need a photo buddy with more nerves than I have ;) - who wants to go exploring?

This was the last shot on my camera. It was a giant jug sitting out by where the front porch used to be...Do you see me?