Of Matter

This may have been procrastinating or it may have been actually part of “the process”. I’m always suspicious as to what I may or may not be trying to pull and I am easily tricked by me. Regardless, I went on a photo exhibition through East Point yesterday. The goal was to find rusty things, wires, transformers, signs of decay and therefore signs of solidity in this increasingly ephemeral and less physical world.

I rode my scooter over to the mysterious railroad and industrial area I’ve seen from MARTA but have never ventured towards. It was fascinating and all rather abandoned on a Sunday afternoon. It was all I could do to not park the bike and walk down an enticing and seemingly long forgotten railroad track. Who knows what one might see? It’s unfortunate (or fortunate) that as an adult I have a sense of vulnerability, otherwise, I would have certainly wandered where I shouldn’t - entered restricted areas, abandoned buildings, apparent hobo camps. These sorts of places naturally intrigue me but are most likely a recipe for trouble.

I long for days past when I’d explore the lesser known parts of suburban St. Louis – the storm drains, graffiti zones of the park, Madrid plaza. At my grandparents’ small town we’d explore the vacated town hall and post office: broken dishes, damaged pianos, dead pigeons and rides on the folding chair cart. Here in Atlanta, I’ve wandered with a friend through the back woods of Piedmont Park. There were many an encampment and curious items and people to be found there - most suspicious. My most favorite Christmas memory is exploring a burned out house in Midtown with my neighbors. Light switches dripped down the walls, cd cases melted together, beams were exposed, shiny-black and deeply crackled.

All of these environments give me such a thrill. I feel alive in these places of the unknown, dark, forgotten, rotting, with the smell of that black fine dirt found in old attics. I feel solid, yet finite...all too real.