There is an irresistable lure of abandon things, old ghost towns, and ruins for me. These places often provide unexpected inspiration because they stir up emotional responses in me centered around experiences I can only imagine. I feel a strange sense of something familiar and I find myself perpetually drawn to the tilted beauty in their glory-gone-forgotten. I am definitely drawn to their energy imprints, often very weirdly comforting. There are so many stories here. So many stories bound by hardship, tragedy, sadness and the unforgiven. Stories woven together with the delicate thread of hope. Here, in the bones of buildings and forgotten graves, are whispers of our best and our worst moments of humanity. Someone’s 18-month old daughter, a young wife’s husband, the sacred elder, the warrior, a teenage son, the old man’s horse, the miner, the murderer. Each equally abandoned, for over 100 years. Existing briefly in the draw of breath and release of a visitor’s exhale.
The energy of these places causes me to reflect and empathize with unimanigable circumstances where the odds are stacked against you. Could I have handled it? What part of me would emerge in the name of survival–would anything emerge? Would I have survived long? Would I be forgotten too?
These places affect me and stay with me, yet I seek to explore more abandoned places. They come out in my creative efforts and in my way of seeing the world and in my inner journey their energies loom as warnings, guides, lessons, fears, challengers. They revolve around our best and worst, my shadow and light. They signify a time when nature or man went out of balance and collapsed. A madly recurring theme I’ve noticed regarding the value of balance: in nature, in life, in what I do, how I interact and react…in our shadow and light exchanges.
What places or environments do you feel an unexpected draw to? How does it empower you, or humble you or inspire you?