close your eyes and hope for the best

Old House, Kitchen (click image to enlarge)

…the saddest thing of all was a “Do Not Resuscitate” notice taped to the refrigerator door.

The new owner had hired me to photograph the old house. It was to be completely renovated. The images were for archival purposes and would be used as a reference for the renovations.

I wanted to capture the feeling of the house. I didn’t know much of its history but the little I did know certainly contributed to its forlorn atmosphere.

The house was built around 1902. Despite its rundown state it was still solid. Perhaps the anti-mold qualities of the old growth douglas fir wood with which it was built, had prevented rot from setting in.

Old House, Kitchen (click image to enlarge)

An old bachelor had lived there alone for many years and had very recently passed away. I knew next to nothing of the gentleman but it must have been lonely for him. I think it would have been depressing to be surrounded by a constant reminder of better days gone by.

A neighbour told me that the old guy admittedly cared nothing for the house but that he remembered how beautiful everything was when his mother was alive. She had been proud of her home and apparently had been a good gardener. But now, where a beautiful garden had once lain, a shocking growth of blackberry bush had taken over. The lawn was over run with weeds.  Paint fell off the house like flaky grey dandruff. To say that he had let it go was an understatement.

Some rooms hadn’t been used for many years. In the nether regions of the house huge six-foot square multi-layered sections of wallpaper surrendered to the decay and collapsed off the walls. The ceilings were tattered and deeply water stained. Junk and detritus were everywhere on the floors. Other parts of the house weren’t as stunningly bad but they weren’t good.

Undoubtedly the saddest thing of all was a “Do Not Resuscitate” notice taped to the refrigerator door. Perhaps the old guy had a preexisting condition. Perhaps his health had been failing in general and he wouldn’t have long survived. I don’t know but it was disturbing to see the notice on the fridge. The official form started off with something to the effect: In the event of cardiac or respiratory arrest, I refuse any resuscitation measures…

Sad.
Lonely.
Melancholy.
Neglected.

There isn’t a digital melancholy mode on my camera and I don’t own a graduated despondent filter. Melancholy. I thought, “shoot the house as it is”.

Old House, Bathroom Sink (click image to enlarge)

The air was damp, heavy and very musty. I opened some windows to let in some fresh air and to brighten things up a bit. Torn, formerly white, now grey sheer curtains pulsed in and out of the windows with each breath the house took. It was brighter now. It wasn’t any cheerier.

The available light was inadequate in most areas and so I dragged a pair of strobes with me from room to room. As I recall, it took me about six hours spread out over a couple of days to work my way through all of the house.

There is a lot from the shoot I like. The four images I am showing here are my favourites. I love the colours, lines and textures in the bathroom. Those images are very much as I shot them.

Old House Bathroom Tub and Sink (click image to enlarge)

But the images of the kitchen didn’t say enough about how I felt. For those shots I relied heavily on photoshop. Amongst other things: I darkened the edges. I emphasized the blacks. I dodged and burned. I desaturated the colour. I magnified the melancholy.

I was pleased to see my client’s reaction to the images. She loved them.

I understand that the house is soon going to be used as a set for a movie of the week. It won’t be a comedy.

© Andrew Wenzel

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 27th, 2008 at 8:03 pm and is filed under Andrew Wenzel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.