For a decade I had driven past her house in the country. It was a huge Victorian monstrosity of peeling paint and bowed clapboards deteriorating on the bayou. For a long time I thought the cedar shake roof might collapse. Over time, I watched as new homes were built around it expecting the grand old home to disappear. But the structure stood firm among the McMansions sprouting up around it. Today, I needed an old home to stand in as a haunted house for Facedown Tuesday. I knew just where to go. Instead of a haunted house, I found a jewel.
Cindy was seated in the side yard sipping a mint julep as I drove the dirt driveway. I introduced myself and asked if I could photograph the house. Initially she was concerned and a bit suspicious. As I explained that I had watched it over the past decade, and how I admired the dilapidated stucture, a smile lit up her face. Cindy was thrilled to give me permission. I went to the front of the house, where my photographic eccentricies would be concealed by the fence she had built. As I was setting up my tripod and framing the house in the viewfinder, she came around the corner "Do you want anything to drink?" she called out to me. I declined, and went back to my work. "I'll bring you something if you would like," she called again.
Suddenly, I wasn't feeling as confident about getting my facedown shot in private. I left my camera and tripod, and walked around the corner to have a glass of iced tea. "Have a seat, put your feet up," Cindy said graciously. "It's so nice to have someone really appreciate this place." I could tell it was going to become increasing difficult to do a haunted house for Facedown Tuesday. Cindy told me how she approached the owner of the house ten years ago, wanting to purchase and move the ramshackle building. The owner told Cindy she could have the old building, it's out buildings and their contents if she could move them.
Cindy did not waste any time. She had the old Victorian house and its carriage house moved across town to some land her father owned on the bayou. At first it was bliss. Nobody else lived nearby. Cindy lived in an Airstream trailer while she worked on the old home. Then her father fell ill and she had to care for him. The house was put on hold. Next, urban sprawl began to happen, and new homes were built along the same stretch of bayou. Cindy's new neighbors did not like the old Victorian house. It's peeling paint (where it still had paint) and fallen in front porch did not please their delicate sensibilities. They put up fences and Cindy put up No Trespassing signs.
As she cared for him, Cindy's father told her that she would never sleep in her old house. Defiant, she moved a bed into the unheated and unlit home that night. She laughed as she told me she continued to sleep there with a flashlight until she heard the rustling of coons and possums several weeks later. Suddenly, what had began as a facedown shot became much more. I asked Cindy if she would let me take her portrait for 100 Strangers. "But I don't have any make-up on," she said.
"You're gorgeous as you are," I assured her. "This project is about real people and their unique stories." I didn't lie. Cindy was gorgeous, and with her windswept hair, farmer's tan and sundress, about as real and unique as they come. I asked her to follow me to the front of the house, and I unsnapped my camera from it's tripod. As I was photographing her, she laughingly suggested that I should take a photo of her on her tractor. She pointed to an old Case Series S tractor resting under a huge live oak. "Does that thing run?" I asked.
"I mow the yard with it." she replied confidently.
"We will," I said, "but today, lets just get a few out here." Then I told her that I wanted to get a photo of her in front of the house, with the whole house in the picture. "Don't be surprised at what I might do...." I warned. I took my camera back to the tripod and snapped it into place. I switched it to a 10 second timer. I made certain the shot was framed as Cindy stood beside the fence expectantly. I touched off the shutter and strode to my predetermined spot and went facedown a second before the shutter opened.
She laughed and slapped her knees as I arose from the dirt. "You're an artist, aren't you?" she asked. I nodded. "You don't have to explain that," she laughed. "I understand. I'm an artist too." She pointed around to all the signs she had painted, all the shrine-like totems she had assembled and placed around the property. I let her lead me around and tell a few stories about each one.
As we walked I built up the courage to ask her. "Cindy," I said, I would absolutely love to come back here with lighting equipment and photograph you inside your house."
"Really?" she blushed.
"Yeah. On the tractor too. How 'bout Saturday?"
She thought for a moment before she responded. Then.... "Saturday's good. Want to see inside the house?"
"You better believe it!"
"Come on," she beckoned as she climbed onto the porch. I followed her onto the wrinkled wood and watched as she opened the rusty screen door. Then she swung open the heavy oak front door.
"Wow!" I exclaimed.
Cindy is a new friend and the 121st stranger in my 100 Strangers project. Find out more about the 100 Strangers project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the flickr group page.
The 100 Strangers website can be found at 100strangers.com/
Nikkor 50mm ƒ1.8, Natural Light
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Tags: Facedown Tuesday Facedown 100 Strangers 121/100 Cindy Cindy's House Victorian Squash Garden Renovation Planking
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Tags: Victorian Home House Frankenstien Camera Holga Light Leak Toy Camera Square 2009
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Tags: Victorian Frankenstien Cameras Jungle Studio d'Xavier Feral Homes Houses Pink Toy Camera Square 2009
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Tags: Nikon D200 Xavier Studio d'Xavier 2009
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Pro-Optic 8mm f/11, 10.5 seconds
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Tags: Victorian House Christmas Long Exposure Nocturnal Night Pro-Optic 8mm f/3.5 Pro-Optic 8mm, ƒ3.5
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