Back to Business

Every now and then I like to take a step back and regain perspective. I promise it won't always take a toll on my blogging, but this time it did.

The past month or so has been phenomenal. The web site is on its way to completion. I've been teaching myself Flash, and I've never had to push so hard. I've concluded that learning is so much easier when you have a teacher and classmates to push you along! Nevertheless, I've never seemed to be so focused. I've been shooting and brainstorming like crazy. A dream and vision is finally taking life, and I couldn't be more excited! Annnnd....I have a very special blog series I've been working on; it's on its way!

For now, I wanted to share some images from a mental health facility I photographed while on blogging "sabbatical." This maximum security hospital has treated the mentally ill for nearly a century. Walking the halls of it's oldest (still standing) building, constructed in the 70s, a chill crept down my spine. My mind couldn't help but conjure up characters to fill the vacant wards, pulling mostly from the many the movies past. Small, cold, and dimly lit, it was a sad place. As I worked my way through each room, I was drawn to the windows, watching the incoming storm and wondering what life was like in an eight by ten cell.

The light at the end of the tunnel...

When I initially drove by the hospital, I knew I wanted to photograph it. Many times I'm drawn to the old and decaying, the sad and the scary places in this world. I love the challenge of finding beauty in the ashes. It's always there, you just have to dig. In this case, that ray of light came toward the end of my visit. I was led from one world to another. The newest addition to the facility: a state-of-the-art, beautifully architected, structure with sculptures and mosaics adorning its grounds. It hardly even occurred to me that it was constructed for maximum security. Ironically, the best part of this facility is not it's appealing aesthetics, but rather the symbolism of such luxuries. They are symbols of genuine care, not condemnation. Hope and rehabilitation: beauty, for ashes.