What's left behind

We discovered a few years ago that there's few things Olivia Barfield loves more than taking something apart to see how it works.  At least for the last several months, she's been taking various cameras found at antique stores apart and seeing how they work - the fascination with the process explains the workshop vibe that the kitchen has taken on.  Anyway, after lots of discussion about how images reach film and then become actual pictures with her daddy and Granddaddy (notice she knew not to ask me because she knew my response would be, "It's MAGIC"), she started taking photos.  We don't do anything the easy way so her first batch was from an old Brownie box camera. She's since discovered her dad's old 1970ish 35mm Nikon. This thing weighs about 14 pounds I think and requires actual FILM which hardly anybody but your granddad uses anymore.

Anyway, you would know that we are not the sort of people who would enjoy taking pictures of flowers and birds.  In the last few months we have discovered the joys of abandoned buildings. I'm not kidding when I use the word joy - she's skipping over broken glass with pure glee on her little bespectacled face while Kenny and I fight off mosquitos and stand guard with the pepper spray.

It's these questions of what gets left behind and what's waiting to take over that's fascinating to all of us. Typically, I drive, Olivia shoots and Kenny serves as bodyguard and film support.  All of my pictures are me following her around and I like that.  It's fun for the whole family.  We are already mapping out a route of ghost towns for Thanksgiving break.

After her film is developed (which requires detailed labeling and sorting on her part), we all sit around and talk about what can be done better, what needs to be done again and where we ought to search next. I can't tell you how many of these places we've driven past for years without notice.  It's wonderful especially to see nature slowly push through and reclaim what we don't value.  I want you to see that these buildings aren't tragic - they are filled with the legacy and livelihoods of families, the hopes of communities at ribbon cutting ceremonies held years ago, and now they are filled with the joy of a girl.