If a bride asks me where to shoot, I usually recommend this place. Sometimes. Some brides can't handle it. It is dirty, it is old, it ain't exactly high society Dallas. Their dress will probably get a little dirty, shoe are gonna have some mud on them. so worth it.
This isn't an easy place to shoot for me, either. Lots of stairs, lots of gear - no electricity so I have to bring in my own power - it can be quite a daunting place to take on. Yet I love it, I love every square inch of it. the smell of it. the darkness of it.
After my shoot, in which the bride was such a good sport (proof below), I need to sit and rest a while before I loaded up my gear and drove home. The new me. Like an 80 year old. Sit and rest, a while. Anyway, I hid my phone across the lot and chose this old staircase that I just love to lay low on. I sat there, in the silence, staring at the exposed bricks on each side and wondered about the hands that laid them all those years ago. I was tired, needed a good bit of rest - thus the deep reflection. too much? I thought about what there stories were, where they came from, how many kids they had to feed with their wage, etc. in a back shed, there are tools still on the ground. Rusted, dusted, ole tools. I love them. I want to steal them and hang them on my wall. Who used them? What did they accomplish with these simple little instruments that we use massive machines now to do. Do we have any idea how hard these people worked?
Speaking of work (yet much easier), here is what we came up with last Friday. Photographs a bit too dark and twisted? Then they must be mine!
ps - a southern bride is a force to be reckoned with. let's not share with her that I posted these, mmkay?
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