the story of CreepyHouse

my friend joseph recently purchased this print of mine, and i keep telling him he needs to hear the story of how it came to be, because i think he will enjoy it.  and then every time we hang out, i forget to tell him because we have so many other things to talk about.  but he needs to know!  and so, if you are here, you need to know too.  you should know that i tell it *much* better in person when i can make wild hand gestures.

august 9th of 2008 was a beautiful day.  i set out with friend/musician ryan paul to do a photo shoot after having waited for the perfect time of day, when the light was exactly just the way i hoped it would be . . . the sun setting and making that super pretty gentle light sideways across a hill down the road from my house, at the end of which was a completely hideous and ghastly abandoned house.

i had passed the house hundreds of times and the plan for this day was to take photos on the porch of it–where there were no less than 3 stoves, many unidentifiable tools and several other large appliances carelessly stashed.  the house is located on a farm, and there is a fully functional regular house on the property.  it seemed appropriate at the time to ask permission to be wandering around taking photos, so we parked and i approached the front door.  couldn’t get to it.  the only way in was through the open garage, the backyard, and on the porch.  i cautiously went through the garage and out into the backyard and found several dozen diseased, dying, bleeding, crying and otherwise heartbreaking cats and kittens.  fighting back tears, i stepped through the terrible kitty yard and up onto the porch.  i was terrified as i pulled open the screen door and knocked on the kitchen door. after a few minutes the door swung open loudly and cigarette smoke billowed out in a huge cloud onto me.  the creepiest of creepy old dudes appeared through the smoke and stared at me until i started to stutter. . .

“uuuuum….i.   i am a photographer?  annnnnnd……wondering if.    could i?  the house over there.  the broken-y one?  i can take pictures on the porch for a few minutes, please?  friend.  band.  needs pictures.”

and his answer:  ”THAT HOUSE?!? that house ain’t mine.  that old guy in, well he lives in CHANhassen.  he don’ care. whatever.  grunt.”

so i ran!!! back through the bad kitty place and ran!!! out the garage and leaped into the car, breathing so fast, and looked at ryan with sheer terror, and said, “it’s ok.”  and he didn’t believe me.  and i said, “no.  it’s fine.  tell you later.  oh my god.”

so we went over to the house and started poking around on the porch, taking some shots.  i didn’t know ryan well enough yet to know he would do this, but he immediately went over to the garage attached to the back of the house and shimmied his skinny ass under the 1.5 foot opening and started climbing through the house.  i’m thinking, “NOPE.  unh-uh.  i am NOT going in there.  no way, not gonna happen.  gross!!  who IS this guy?”  but all that comes out of my mouth is, “um, are you okay?  what was that noise?”  and what i hear from inside is:

“OH MY GOD!! HOLY SHIT!”  …crash….thud….”DEAD ANIMAL! you HAVE to come in here! climb under the….the door, climb und—-” CRASH.

nope.  not gonna.  not climbing under that door and going in there.  i followed along the side of the house, taking pictures in through the window so i could see what was going on.  (window height is above my head.)  i heard him smashing through the house, swearing, and then finally appearing out on the front porch.  ”oh!  hey.  the front door was unlocked.”

sigh.

needless to say, he convinced me to go inside and we spent a few awesome hours exploring the nasty house, taking photos, and admiring the sound of his new guitar in an abandoned house.

and there you have it, joseph.  the story of where your photo came from.