rosendale, new york
2012large format photographs
incandescent lights, house (1886), onsite construction materials
During my recent residency in upstate New York, I spent a great deal of time contemplating the transitional qualities of space. Smitten with a dilapidated historic building onsite, I kept vigil as the interior was methodically deconstructed to reveal an aged wooden shell. With crowbars, sledge hammers, and power saws the home transformed into a construction zone - a jarring yet enchanting contemporary window into the preservation of history.
Throughout the day, walls and ceilings crumbled to the floor in dusty chemical filled heaps. At dusk, I sat silently amidst the resting chaos. Each of these crumbled walls once marked the perimeters of a space - they encompassed a room. What happens to the room when the walls disappear?
