Abandoned
I did not set out to photograph my neighbors’ abandoned homes. It all happened within a short time span; every neighbor that flanked our house was abandoned and foreclosed. Taking with them everything they could carry and leaving behind what they could not.I did not trot around the country, cherry-picking the hot spots of home foreclosure.
This happenedin my own neighborhood, this happened to my neighbors. I watched as they struggled searching for new jobs in a the toughest job market in generations. They picked up odd jobs to try to stay afloat. They’d sell off their boats and squeeze every resource they could just to make it to the end of each month. My neighbors all worked in thenatural gas industry, an industry that deteriorated during the great recession. With the economy’s rapid downward spiral came the pink slips. The unemployment insurance would barely cover their bills and scammers prayed on their desperation. When the families are stretched as thin as they could be, the banks would come for their homes. Because their homes were manufactured, they did not qualify for federal assistance, nor were they any programs available for them to keep their home because of this exclusion. The American Dream quickly became a nightmare. The vultures circled in and some gave in and foreclosed on their homes. Others fled, without any other option available for them, defaulting on their loans. Leaving behind a part of their lives; childhood toys, photographs and television sets. It was a devastating set of circumstances unfolding before me.
At first, I stayed away, I did not want to shove my camera into the private lives of others, especially with such a sensitive topic. It was a line I did not want to cross.That changed after a rash of robberies fell upon the neighborhood. Scavengers would break into these homes because it is easy in rural communities; there is enough space to get in and out without being noticed during the day and they could take their time as they picked the house clean of all valuable metals to sell to the scrap yards. The police force was overwhelmed and were not equipped to deal with preventing robberies in these sparsely populated areas. It was the perfect condition for thieves.
Before I called the police, I looked around these homes to see what was taken and what valuables would be ripped off. It was an eerie landscape filled with discarded toys, scattered memories, rippeddocuments and food left to rot. The first encounter left me shaken; I put myself into their situation and imagined what would be left behind in my own home if I had to leave as they did.This is the story of what was left behind, a story of what was looted from their homes. This is the American dream after families are pushed out and of the thieves who have their fill. This is the story of these abandoned homes and the void they created. For this, I wished to create a visual record of what happened in my own neighborhood during these uncertain times. A record of what was left behind, and the events following its abandonment.
This happenedin my own neighborhood, this happened to my neighbors. I watched as they struggled searching for new jobs in a the toughest job market in generations. They picked up odd jobs to try to stay afloat. They’d sell off their boats and squeeze every resource they could just to make it to the end of each month. My neighbors all worked in thenatural gas industry, an industry that deteriorated during the great recession. With the economy’s rapid downward spiral came the pink slips. The unemployment insurance would barely cover their bills and scammers prayed on their desperation. When the families are stretched as thin as they could be, the banks would come for their homes. Because their homes were manufactured, they did not qualify for federal assistance, nor were they any programs available for them to keep their home because of this exclusion. The American Dream quickly became a nightmare. The vultures circled in and some gave in and foreclosed on their homes. Others fled, without any other option available for them, defaulting on their loans. Leaving behind a part of their lives; childhood toys, photographs and television sets. It was a devastating set of circumstances unfolding before me.
At first, I stayed away, I did not want to shove my camera into the private lives of others, especially with such a sensitive topic. It was a line I did not want to cross.That changed after a rash of robberies fell upon the neighborhood. Scavengers would break into these homes because it is easy in rural communities; there is enough space to get in and out without being noticed during the day and they could take their time as they picked the house clean of all valuable metals to sell to the scrap yards. The police force was overwhelmed and were not equipped to deal with preventing robberies in these sparsely populated areas. It was the perfect condition for thieves.
Before I called the police, I looked around these homes to see what was taken and what valuables would be ripped off. It was an eerie landscape filled with discarded toys, scattered memories, rippeddocuments and food left to rot. The first encounter left me shaken; I put myself into their situation and imagined what would be left behind in my own home if I had to leave as they did.This is the story of what was left behind, a story of what was looted from their homes. This is the American dream after families are pushed out and of the thieves who have their fill. This is the story of these abandoned homes and the void they created. For this, I wished to create a visual record of what happened in my own neighborhood during these uncertain times. A record of what was left behind, and the events following its abandonment.
Thank you for your viewership, if you loved what you saw here, the project is available as a book.
Again, thank you.
-Patrick
Again, thank you.
-Patrick
