Barn Fetish
I have a fetish with old decrepit barns. Is that weird? I’m absolutely enthralled by them. I always have been. I grew up traveling the states every summer with the P’s. We’d pack up in their RV and travel the states. The end goal was always the east coast to visit my mom’s family. Grandpap and Grandma were in Pennsylvania and the sister, Uncles and Aunts scattered amongst Jersey, Virginia, Georgia and so on. So yeah, each summer we’d pick a new route and by the time i was out of college i had hit all 50 US states. Yeah, there were a couple trips i had to pepper in there on my own, and my brother and i had stopped traveling with mom and dad in our first couple years in high school when we discovered alcohol, the opposite sex and well, basically just trouble.
So in our travels it was easy to get bored as a kid sitting in the backseat of a dually pickup hauling a 5th wheel, or riding shotgun next to my dad in the Jayco “C” class. You can only play the handheld Blackjack game so many times with out wanting to throw it out the window, or rather dad wanting to throw you out the window from the annoying beeps and sounds the game makes. We would eat, sleep, me and my brother would fight, you know how it goes. You’d find yourself staring blindly at the repetitive landscapes for miles, and miles, and miles… and when something, anything comes up it is exciting… barns happened to be one of those somethings for me. I would start to notice their different shapes, ailing states, or in more rare cases the new life surrounding them.
To this day i always notice barns along my travels. Each time i pass one i think how cool it would be to do a Barn Calendar. Okay, maybe cool isn’t the right word, but i’d get a lot of satisfaction out of taking a US Roadtrip with no mission other than to get shots of barns, maybe do some random artsy filmy things with them….
