Horse Farm, Fort Worth

Abandoned Horse Farm, Part I

Sometimes, you just have to get out of the house.  Even on a freezing, blustery day, a girl's gotta look for a subject to just shoot the hell out of.  I didn't have to go far.  I remembered this deserted horse farm in far south Fort Worth and went for it.

I usually work alone.  Photography, by nature, can be a lonely hobby.  A photographer is a watcher, an observer.  Rather than a participant, I am a recorder of memories and moments in time.  I find myself completely immersed in objects and faces, forgetting the world around me.

                     

On this day, I was grateful to have a break from the silence, when another photographer also needing to blow a little creative energy, joined me.  Conversation was a much appreciated break to my normal routine; I think I needed it, and my work benefited as a result.  Shooting alongside a partner every once in awhile is refreshing.  Only another shooter can really 'get' the need to photograph a rusted faucet... from five different angles... at three different exposures... until the 'perfect' one is captured.  Yes, it's madness, and I'm okay with that.

 

 

I know I learn just by watching another photographer, and looking at potential subjects in a new way is like having a second set of eyes.  And, just because two people find themselves framing the same subject, doesn't mean they see the subject with the same perception.  It's a perfect example of beauty being in the eye of the beholder, and it's fascinating to study.

 

Abandoned Horse Farm, Part II

During my second quarter at the Art Institute, one of my instructors suggested I return to the horse farm.  She pointed out that a second trip would eye-opening and that I might discover even more treasures to be photographed.

This time, I explored alone, tiptoeing through the eerie silence. Spring had transformed this place.  January's chilly and overcast weather was replaced by sticky Texas humidity.  Weeds had grown waist high and seemed to demonstrate nature's constant struggle to win in the war of man versus nature.

 During my previous visit I had explored one of the barns fairly extensively, but had overlooked the stables.  This time, they beckoned me.

I mentioned before,  the farm was nearly silent.  Something about that kind of quiet puts a person on edge, and as I walked toward the decaying stalls I was a bundle of raw nerves.  Just as was raising my camera, getting ready to click the shutter,  I was caught completely off-guard by a sudden flurry of activity from behind me.  I almost came out of my skin- you know the feeling, the "pee my pants- have heart attack- and faint all at the same time" kind of startle.  Fortunately for me, the culprit was only a buzzard.  Well, probably the most ginormous buzzard I've ever seen in my entire life, but thankfully, he was apparently more scared of me, than I was of him.  He was gone in a flash, and I can't say I blamed him.  I have to honest, this was the first time I had almost ran right out of a shoot!

 

 

A requirement of this particular assignment was a self-portrait in the environment we chose to photograph.  Admittedly,  this was a struggle.  I'm a photographer; I work behind the camera, not in front of it.  I am deeply and ridiculously self-conscious.  I dreaded, absolutely positively dreaded, this part of the assignment.  So, I had to find a way to incorporate myself into my own photograph in which I felt comfortable. With the help of my handy-dandy tripod, I think I was rather successful. 

Bam!  Take that, self-portrait! You too, giant buzzard!

Fears, faced. 

Good job, Jen. :)