I've been volunteering as a photographer since July at Thompson's Mills State Heritage Site, outside of Shedd, Oregon, rendering my interpretations of the long-silent machinery and atmosphere in the old building. On Friday I spent a couple of hours in the basement, where it was really dark (the lights were out, by design). Mindful of the low ceiling beams and uneven flooring, I spent half my time considering what to shoot—and listening. Was that history whispering in the quiet morning? Probably just Bucky, the unofficial Head Ranger and #1 Cat, checking out my tripod.
I've learned not to look too hard when I'm in a new place and surrounded by unfamiliar subjects—it's better for me to move around, stop, and repeat the process until the feel of my surroundings (if there is one) comes to me. I'm certain I'd miss good opportunities if I jumped at the obvious things first.
The basement is such a place. I'd walked around it, identifying machinery I was interested in, while giving no thought (or looks) to the row of windows on the east side of the building. These wear years of accumulated dust, cobwebs, and grime—except for one. It was when I was changing lenses by the door that I noticed this low window covered by—burlap? At least I think that's what it is, a large beige piece hanging from the wall in the darkest portion of the room.
The autumn colors (barely twenty yards away, along the Calapooia River) contrast perfectly with the enveloping blackness, while a complimentary slice of colorful light seeping under a board in the wall adds balance to the frame. By chance (or subconscious planning) my tripod was already in the perfect spot to shoot, and after switching to the 70-200 I captured my favorite photo of the day.
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