Time and tide. They indeed wait for no one. But instead of looking at them as ravagers of life, we can choose to view them as softeners of it. Such is the case of these images I shot a couple of weeks ago. This conglomeration of abandoned barns made of stone, wood and metal has been shaped and worn by the elements into a myriad of ethereal hues and sophisticated patinas.
When I happened upon this scene on that quiet but breezy and grey Sunday morning, I decided to get out of the Jeep and more closely study each structure. I just stood before each side of the buildings and looked intently – first from a distance and then closer. A meandering growth of vines here. A vibrantly pulsating patch of lichen there. A stray piece of iron arbitrarily and painfully driven between stones here. A roof made of corrugated tin, tightly sheltering its posts and beams underneath, ombres streaky color from almost untouched silver to deepest rust.
How long does this take, this change from hard and new to soft and aged? I wondered what all this looked like when it was freshly done many years ago. But standing there with the wind and the chill of that Sunday morning, somehow I much preferred the here and now.
Photos by Joel Woodard