Flaws

I was instantly drawn to it. I urgently patted my friend on the arm, begging him to pull over, "just for ONE minute!" His black pick up truck rumbled to a halt and I hopped out into the weeds growing along the side of Rockledge Drive, clutching my camera.
I stood before it and stared. The exterior coat was peeled, and the planks were rough underneath my fingers. The windows were broken into perfect burst-shaped gaping holes, which faded into an interior of impenetrable blackness. All of Carlisle's weather had been absorbed into the white paint, and the raw wood underneath was grey and dry, giving the abandoned house the appearance of a black and white photograph.
In fact, when I took the picture of what would become a series of photographs depicting the beauty of abandonments, it came out black and white, even though I shot it in color. The photograph is of a window staring down at its admirer. One of its old fashioned country-style horizon shutters is flung open to the side, as if the house is opening one eye to examine you. I thought it was one of the most magnificently beautiful things I had ever laid eyes on.

There's something to be said for the beauty of an abandoned house and all its secrets and eccentricities. People are the same way; we appreciate them not in spite of their flaws, but because of them. Every cracked wall adds character to a house, just like a birthmark can make a person stand out. The way a door creaks or a window rattles is unique, just like the way a person laughs. My love for these houses could perhaps be compared to the way someone might love an old car that has run faithfully for many years.
I've heard many abandonments referred to as "eyesores". Maybe if people could look past the crumbling exterior and see what a building has to offer aesthetically, they could truly appreciate them. However, many people are hesitant to enter dilapidated abandonments because of their fear of several things: the supernatural, trespassing, and hazards inside the building.
As urban explorers, we make the choice to eliminate our fear by thinking of these things differently from the average person. The supernatural won't bother us if we don't bother them, and the best way to go about it is respecting a property by taking nothing but photographs and leaving as little evidence of your presence behind as possible. I am reassured of this fact because I have never had anything bad happen to me without there being a warning first.
Being caught trespassing can be dealt with in several ways, depending on who catches you. If it's the property owner, you have a much better chance of getting away with an excuse. However, if it's a cop or a security guard, they have usually heard the same excuses before and won't let you off so quickly. I have been caught 3 times, twice by myself and once with a friend. The first time I was caught, I was exploring a house out in the woods that was falling apart, and the property owner was walking by and saw my car parked outside. She found me inside the house and asked to see my pictures. I showed her, and she said she thought they were beautiful. She invited me to her house further up the driveway. She was (and still is) one of the cutest little old wrinkled ladies I have ever met. She gave me cookies and a soda and asked me about my photography and past explorations. She told me about how her daughter used to live in the house until she died of cancer years ago, how she didn't want to tear the house down or remodel it, and how she didn't really have a good reason why. She told me how she believed that houses were sacred shells of someone's past. I told her I agreed, and we realized that we both appreciated the beauty of that which has been left behind and the importance of preserving someone's legacy. The second time I was caught was less eventful; I was taking pictures of a house from the outside, getting up close to the brick wall to take a picture of an old electric meter. A harsh voice behind me suddenly said "What are you taking pictures of?" and made me jump. I turned around to face her, realizing I had no idea how long she had been standing there. I told her I was a photography student and that I loved old buildings. She frowned and told me that she thought I should leave. I politely said I understood and got back in my car and drove away. The third time I was caught was on the grounds of an abandoned prison, where a friend and I were stopped by a security officer. We explained that we were photography students and simply didn't see the "No Trespassing" signs. He was very congenial and let us take a few more pictures of the outside before sending us on our way. The best way to avoid being caught is to scope out the property for security signs or people and keep quiet when making an entrance. The best way to avoid getting in trouble if you still end up getting caught is to have a valid excuse other than curiosity ready; mine is that I'm a photography student doing a project (which is half true). It's also a good idea to keep a student-like appearance in order to not look like a troublemaker.
Hazards inside a building can include rusty metal objects, broken glass, asbestos contamination, flooding, unsafe floorboards, plain darkness, homeless people, and wild animals. We prepare ourselves against most of these things. My arsenal of safety gear includes a gas mask, a first aid kit, a flashlight, appropriate clothing, and a swiss army knife. I have only come across a homeless person once; he didn't notice me thanks to what seemed to be his delusional state of mind. The only wild animal I have ever come across is a dead raccoon.
In spite of all of these preventative measures, many people remain unconvinced that entering an abandoned site is a good idea for any reason whatsoever. They are unwilling to put themselves in a position to be hurt in any way. I’ve had friends who have gone bungee jumping, rock climbing and skydiving refuse to set foot in abandoned buildings. This is part of the reason I am so fascinated with abandonments; people refuse to set foot in something other people just like them used to inhabit. They live in a house now—why won’t they go inside one that nobody lives in? Doesn’t the fact that it’s empty make it even better to explore? They not only happen to forget about it, but they want to forget; they want to ignore these "eyesores" and move on with their lives. I cannot imagine how many important historical discoveries have been left rotting away on dusty shelves of abandoned houses because of peoples' unwillingness to step across a threshold. I see this in many relationships, too; many people are unwilling to get to know someone else because of their rough exterior or their first impression.
Why is it that when something man has created changes enough to be so different that they look nothing like the original, society feels like it has to be either fixed or destroyed? In the United States, buildings are constantly being torn down and replaced. In Italy, for example, you can walk up the street and visit an Etruscan tomb nestled between a restaurant and an art shop. Everything is old in Europe; everything is new in the States. We always want to start over; forget renovation, forget trying to salvage a beautiful building; we need a Walmart parking lot more than we need beauty. I love abandonments because nobody else does. Nobody else is willing to see what these structures have to offer for their minds and their hearts; they are only willing to see what it has to offer for their pockets.
My love of urban exploration has many facets, but the most significant I think, is what it has taught me about finding allure in odd places. I have learned to look past the ugliness of people as well as buildings to discover what beauties lay beneath, and I believe it is an important lesson that can be learned by everyone. I have learned how to make those assets come alive through my photographs, just as I have learned how to bring out the better part of someone's personality through conversation. Unfortunately, most of society refuses to make themselves vulnerable long enough to let in some of the more eccentric beauties that life has to offer.
Personally, I prefer to leave my heart and my mind open as much as possible; I'm afraid I might miss some of life's beautiful flaws.

Nature's Playground

That building would be better if it was abandoned. I’ve thought this to myself many times when catching sight of a particularly ugly structure. Another reason I love urban exploring so much is because I see how deterioration can make an ugly building beautiful again as it submits to nature’s elements. For example, the YMCA building: this sickeningly geometrical brick abomination sits on the block at the intersection of Walnut Street and Arch Street in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. It is an industrial scar on the landscape; the mark of an unimaginative architect. He was probably more prone to the mathematical side of his profession, and never excelled in any sort of creative or artistic endeavor.
They obviously never hired a landscaper; the area outside its doors is a green lawn dotted with a few puny looking trees and one picnic table situated in the least likely place a person would want to sit. There used to be two huge oak trees that loomed over the children’s play area, but they were torn down a few years ago, taking away any attraction it used to have. The playground is fenced in with chicken wire and is coated with woodchips, giving it the appearance of an animal pen. At night, the bare, unadorned windows of this building glows a sickly turquoise from the green tile and dim yellow lighting in its hallways. The basement smells like mold and dirt, the first floor smells like chlorine from the pool, the second floor smells like sweat and rubber from the basketball courts and fitness rooms, and the third floor smells like diapers and children’s snot. I used to go to daycare there; I hated it. It was a dirty building, and the simplicity of its structure made me uncomfortable; I felt like I was in a hospital, but with dirty carpets instead of clean marble floors. It scared me. It wasn’t aesthetically pleasing in any sense, and I used to spend my time waiting in the hallways picking the black circles of gum from the carpet (toddlers are always waiting in hallways in lines, and nobody ever knows why). If I got the edge of my fingernail under it just the right way, I could peel and stretch it enough to look underneath and see what color it was. Pink was strawberry, red was cinnamon, and green was usually some sort of mint. During naptime we slept on the same floor in our grimy, thin sleeping bags. I got in trouble during naptime because I was always found scooched up next to some other kid “keeping them awake” (none of us ever actually slept; toddlers are not tired at 11:00 AM). It was usually just because I didn’t want to be along, but apparently naptime was a solitary activity; no whispering or cuddling allowed. I remember crying a lot when my mother dropped me off; usually because I didn’t want to be left in such an ugly place with a bunch of kids with crusty yellow noses and teachers that wore denim jumpers and smelled like diaper rash ointment.
I hated this building as a child and I still hate it for many of the same reasons. It’s a horribly designed structure, with staircases leading to random hallways that end up at another staircase and rooms that seemingly have no purpose. The pool always has shit on the bottom; not just bandaids and hair ties, but literally, shit. The locker rooms are the perfect place to get athlete’s foot, as I and many other people have. The “youth room” consists of several ancient arcade games that steal your money, a few pathetically flickering computers and a scratched up pool table. Sometimes I see a few bored looking kids wandering about in the room, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone really excited to be there; it’s where mothers drop off their adolescent offspring while they go to their spinning classes.
Now if the YMCA were abandoned, it would be a much more interesting place. An empty pool is loads of fun to run around in, and exploring random hallways that seem to lead nowhere is always intriguing. The only reason a building like this is more fun when it’s abandoned is because the reason you’re there is not for exercise or community development, but to explore. Random hallways are frustrating when you’re actually there for a reason. Imagine trying to get to an appointment on time, and every hallway you take trying to get to that room 304B ends up taking you back to room 204A. When you’re exploring, hallways like this one are quirky and interesting, usually because you actually have the time to try and figure them out. Institutional community buildings are hotspots for explorers because of the amount of traffic that went through them; there are tons of clues left behind just waiting to be discovered and admired.
Looking at such an unattractive building like the YMCA makes me uneasy to see so many people enjoying walking inside, and I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be able to walk inside without a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. Buildings like these are twice as beautiful after surviving the elements; it’s as if nature decided to make it her playground. If I ever step across its concrete threshold, it will be when its marble hallways are full of leaves, mice have chewed through the carpets, birds are nesting in the boiler room, and vines are creeping in through its broken windows, because in the end, some buildings are just better off abandoned.

A little about myself

So this is my first blog ever. Well not really; does Xanga at 14 years old count?
It was basically ramblings about the drama of daily life, but I guess I can't really claim that this is going to be much different, although I do like to convince myself that my life is slightly more important now than it was 4 or 5 years ago.

So here's ME in the present: I am currently a freshman at Dickinson College in Carlisle, PA. I am from Carlisle, went to the high school that's ohhh, about 3 blocks away from my dorm,
and my house is about 8 blocks away. Both of my parents are music professors at
Dickinson. My mom teaches voice and my dad is a musicologist (that's history of music) and directs a choir called Collegium Musicum. My main talents are photography and writing, and I intend to put those into a career in photojournalism (if things work out as planned, anyway). My whole life I wanted to get away from Carlisle, and I ended up going to college here. Great. I'm currently thinking about transferring, but it's a very half-baked plan. I applied to a specialty interest house on campus here at Dickinson for next fall called the Arts Haus, and whether or not I get accepted is really going to affect my decision whether or not to transfer.

The unfortunate thing about blogs is that you can't really post EVERYTHING about yourself, so to those of you that know me, yes, I'm leaving out some major details. I got in trouble this year at school; let's just say I have my own way of doing things. I'm not going to say I'm proud of it, because it gets me into trouble A LOT, but that's me, take it or leave it. I'm ADD as all hell, take Concerta for it (have been for 6 years, and no, I wasn't forced to take it or anything, it did wonders for my success in school), and am still constantly late for things. I live in a VERY small dorm room with a roommate who is my complete opposite, but we (thankfully) get along just fine and function pretty well as roommates (with compromises in place).

Oh and another major part of my life is urban exploration. I explore abandoned buildings for fun, take pictures, learn the histories of certain buildings, and just love abandonments in general. I am a full member on UER (for those of you that don't know what that is....too bad), and have been exploring for about 2 years. I posted a few of my photos as an introduction to my photography-- let me know what you think!