Today was one of those days that I was traveling - hopelessly lost.
I was in search of a patient’s house that was on some unmarked back road and most likely didn’t have numbers on their house or a sign identifying where they lived. Some folks are like that in these rural areas. Not because they’re necessarily hiding out from the law or anything. They just don’t want to be bothered.
I drove around the corner and on to a small dirt road named, Gayla Lane. On my left was an abandoned block cement house that had a long awning that sheltered a bleak cement porch. After I parked in the dirt driveway, I placed, photographed and documented art piece #103 on the sill of one of the front windows.
After I walked back to my car it occurred to me one of the reasons why I was attracted to these abandoned houses and buildings. It reminded me of the all the abandoned houses and buildings back in Detroit.
The foreclosure crisis of 2007 apparently compounded this urban tragedy. I’ve heard from folks back in Michigan how whole streets of houses have been abandoned. Elegant skeleton reminders of an era when the automobile industry was king.
Now an artist, formerly from the Motor City, I pay tribute to these memories by placing my cowboy and indian icon art pieces in the western cousins of those uninhabited structures. After I’m done, I drive away. Just like all the other people that once found use in these structures. Each of the dwellings now echo energy remnants of our passage.
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