I am often asked why I draw so many houses and buildings. The answer? Because, to me, a house is not merely a building or structure. In my work, the house becomes a home. A home is a place of comfort; a place of refuge. You turn to your home in good times and in bad. Your home is there in your time of need. Having a bad day? Week? Year? Your home is waiting for you each and every night.
So while thumbing through the 100 Abandoned Houses project, as picture after picture of dilapidated, neglected, abandoned homes flashed across my eyes, I felt just a little heartbroken.
Here before me were images of homes that once belonged to someone. Someone once opened those front doors to the welcome greetings of a husband or wife. Someone tucked in and slept in those bedrooms. Someone served Thanksgiving turkey in the dining room. Someone tore open presents underneath the Christmas tree in the living room. Someone's laughter, cries, joys and fears once echoed off those, now sagging, warped walls.
Cities change. Neighborhoods boom and then decline in popularity. As each year passes, more wood rot, more shingles fall, walls cave and roofs collapse. These homes, once standing so majestically, how can we watch them crumble without one beam of dignity?
Maybe it's the time of year...maybe I'm feeling nostalgic...maybe I'm romanticizing, but they say home is where the heart is. Today, my heart is where my home is.
*This post is a little more serious than recent ones but not to worry: Your regularly scheduled programming will resume next post. Cat poop!