Monthly Archives: May 2012

I visited Florida State Hospital in Chattahoochee on Thursday May 3rd. I knew immediately upon driving onto the campus, that this hospital was different. It was like walking a bit into the past, but in a different way then the places I have been, where the past is a dilapidated reminder of what used to be. No, this hospital was still up and running and highly functional. I don’t know anything about the treatment they provide, so I make no claim on that end… from what I saw, the staff was wonderful! Regardless, when I say that this hospital was “functional” I mean that it still operates highly on its own capacity which was something quiet wonderful and new to see! It has a fully functioning fire station, water treatment system, still has use for many of its buildings, and many staff houses still lived in. It was neatly preserved – very cool! There were still old abandoned buildings. And this hospital, like every state funded hospital, nodded when I mentioned the issues of funding and budget cuts. But there was something quiet neat  to see in this hospital that was still running as if cuts or downsizing was a myth of the future… as if walking into time warp – like it was still 1950 or something.

I began the next week, Monday May 7th, at Central State Hospital in Milledgeville, GA. This hospital was quiet different from Florida. The main building was still in use, but surrounding it was a “quad” of beautiful and old abandoned buildings. One after another these buildings sat boarded up with signs warning of their hidden hazards. One of these buildings, which used to be the train station, still opened up its doors and revealed a fantastic museum of artifacts. I always love seeing these collections and artifacts saved in these hospitals… many hospitals do not have the luxury, resources, and sometime even interest in preserving the history.

***A neat side story inside the museum: two paintings side by side (you’ll have to forgive the clutter in front of the pictures):

They are both done by the same artist who was hospitalized there. They are both of the same place. Yet, they are vastly different. See, the artist was diagnosed as schizophrenic and one painting was done while he was on his medication, the other while he was off of it. I think they are both fantastically beautiful! Yet, they also show the incredible difference in his perception, in what was going on in his mind. What do you think?

Now, back on track. This quad of abandoned buildings stood beautifully tragic. Plants have a way of reclaiming the land, the space, and these old buildings, holding them in a strange embrace. One building, I was told, was inhabited by a whole range of animals from birds, to foxes, to whatever else the mind might imagine. But there was hope amidst the decay and destruction. The hospital had a proposal going through to get funding to restore and re-purpose the buildings. The process would be slow and expensive but could also potentially provide a great new source of revenue and revitalize the beautiful campus.

The following day, Tuesday May 8th, I visited yet another hospital: South Carolina State Hospital. I can’t tell you much too about the hospital… when I arrived I went to the Mills building which was designed by Robert Mills the same architect who designed the Washington Monument. This building was the original Asylum, quiet a beautiful building which is still in use as offices. I got a tour of this building. The rest of the historic campus was abandoned. I was not escorted, just given free range to wander and photograph. It has been a while since I have had free range and no escorts. I was reminded of my “urban photographer” roots… With all the buildings carefully locked, I had to get creative to snap the shots I wanted. Pushing the lens against dirty windows, peering through cracks in fences and bars, reaching precariously on tiptoes with extended arms. It brought an old joy to the work that I am doing.

This abandoned institutions that fills 181 acres, sits in a time long ago and seems mostly forgotten. In some strange and humorous twist, the lawns were still manicured as multiple mowers were going as I wandered the sprawl, yet the buildings (many still filled with artifacts) were let go of long ago. The interesting piece of this hospital was that it was “for sale.” Well, technically “under contract.” The future of many of its buildings is unknown. Would they be revitalized and reused? Would they be demolished? Change was clearly in the works… a future unknown.

I have have now been in the south for 5 days filled with a hurricane of activities.

The Breakdown:

Saturday: landed in New Orleans, got my rental car, and began the journey. Drove to the French Quarter on a mission to find some good food and visit Cafe du Monde. I drove in circles, snaking up and down the streets for damn near an hour, looking for parking. Finally found a spot and began the journey by foot. Jazz fest is this week, so the streets are flooded with tourists. There is nothing I hate more than feeling like a tourist. I prefer to blend in, but here I was in a sea of uncomfortable fish all dressed up in fanny packs and baseball caps and sandals with socks on, and cameras hung clumsily around necks. I pushed my way through the crowds like a salmon trying to swim upstream. Finally made it to Cafe du Monde, where I sat and ate an order of beignets and a cup of coffee. From here I made my way around around the maze of streets to Deanie’s Seafood for a Po’Boy. The weather is hot and humid and many of the streets smell of piss, though Mardi Gras has long since passed. I made the quintessential trip up Bourbon St. passing by Rick’s Cabaret (Titties, Beer, and Sports). I got a kick out of this. I walk down one of the narrow streets, back towards my car. The doors of one of the houses is left open and two feet stick slightly out into the sidewalk. As I pass the door, I discover an old woman in her wheelchair passed out on her stoop. She had wheeled her way to her door, set a table up with a drink, and made herself comfortable to watch the people pass by… instead she took a nap.

Two hours in the French Quarter (clearly not enough), and I head to the Garden District to look at the grand houses and wander down Magazine St. At this point the Po’Boy and Beignets combined with heat and lack of sleep leave me utterly exhausted. I park beneath the shade of a tree and take a quick nap. I get a second wind and drive to Audubon Park and go for a short run before meeting up with the girl I am staying with for the weekend (a friend of a friend). I drive to her house, she takes me out to dinner, and then we return to her house, both exhausted, so we are in bed and asleep by 10:30pm.

Sunday: Jazz Fest time! In the morning hear some interesting stories about Katrina and the storm’s effect from a local perspective… really neat stories and way to many to recount here. We head to the Festival. Something like a hundred thousand people showed up for this weekend. I am lucky to be hanging out with some native’s. Jen’s (the girl I am staying with) dad has attended every single Jazz Fest. Her family has a system where they go early, strike out a spot with blankets, chairs, umbrellas and ice chests full of water. They then stock pile on food from the vendors (an amazing and delicious selection) and then let the day pass. I got some shrimp and grits, a soft shell crab Po’Boy, a frozen latte, and later a strawberry lemonade. I camped out with them for a while. Despite the nice set up, it got hot sitting under the sun, and with so many stages and so much music, it felt wrong to be sitting still for too long. So I got up and walked around, checked out some of the art venders, and watched some musicians I had never heard of. I finished the day with Al Green! Who was fantastic!! Despite the heat he was dressed in a full tux with a green vest. He had a bucket of yellow roses on stage that he distributed to the crowd throughout the show. Definitely glad I got so see him in my lifetime!

Monday: Up-and-at-em at 6am. Left the house at 7am and made the 3 ½ hour drive to Pineville, LA where I photographed Central State Hospital for 4 hours. I then made another 3 ½ hour drive to Jackson, MS where I settled in with my mom’s old friends at the Pax Christi (Kathleen, Rhoda, and Genevieve)  They haven’t seen my mom in over 30 years, but pulled out the photo albums to show me pictures and recap stories of the past. Oh, and these 70 -80 year old women were also watching Dancing with the Stars when I arrived… it’s there favorite TV show. After a 14+ hour day I crawled into bed and passed out.

Tuesday: Woke up nice and early again so I could get on the road and make it to Meridian, MS to photograph Eastern State Hospital. I arrived on time to discover that the Director of the Hospital, the one who had organized and given me permission to photograph the grounds, had decided not to show up for work. His staff (apparently quite conditioned to “think on their feet”) did not know I was coming so scrambled to pull it together and figure out what I needed. It was a little hap-hazard, but they got it pulled together and I spend the next 6 hours photographing the campus and gathering its interesting history. I was exhausted by the time I was done, but still needed to make the 2 ½ hour drive to Mobile, AL where I would be staying for the night. I pushed on, found a hotel, and then searched the nether’s of Google for a restaurant nearby. I was so tired and SO hungry that this proved to be a difficult and frustrating challenge. Finally I decided on “The Blind Mule” a great local pub with a fantastic Grilled Chicken sandwich and a local Strawberry Wheat beer. I made my way back to the hotel room and found sleep.

Wednesday: This is my day off. I have to make the 4 hour drive to Chattahoochee, FL but am planing the drive along the Gulf Coast, hang out on the beach, and relax. To my horror, I awoke with a tick embedded in my… wait for it…. embedded in my ass! Okay…. left butt check/lower hip line. I probably picked up the tick while wandering the hospital grounds in Meridian, and it waited till the evening to strike! Ick. I was horrified and disgusted. Growing up in Colorado, we get used to doing seasonal tick checks. But I haven’t had a tick since my childhood. And I guess I never even thought of them here in the south, but they are prevalent. What made this experience so awful was being in a strange city alone. I could reach the tick, but not well. I didn’t have tweezers or rubbing alcohol to remove the tick. I had to make a Rite Aid run. When I returned to my room, I propped my butt up on the sink so I could see into the mirror. With shaky hands I attacked the little bastard. It fought me, refused to let go, but I persevered and won! I checked to make sure that I had gotten all of it. I investigated the little bugger and then did some research online for more information on that particular type of tick. It is a Lone Star Tick, aggressive and common in the South. Good news is that they don’t carry Lyme Disease. Bad news is it was still traumatic and gross! Nothing makes you feel more isolated and alone on the road like a quick medical emergency in an unfortunate spot… when all you want is a friend to hold your hand and help help you remove the critter from your butt. Hopefully you have good friends!

Now I am sitting at Carpe Diem (a cool local coffee shop near the University). I will be heading out to explore the Gulf in mere moments! Of course, to add to my already unfortunate morning, it’s raining. I love the rain… but this is my beach day to sit on the sand and sun myself and relax. Hum, well I hope the weather gets nicer as I get away from Mobile. It’s been fun mobile, but I’m outta here! Onward to the beach!

DAY 1:

My suitcase still smells of cat pee, which is a terrible way to start a trip. “Cat pee?” You ask. It’s actually a funny story… I flew to a wedding in Texas just a couple of months ago. I was already running late for the flight, my suitcase was packed and I went to close it and zip it up, it would have been that simple. Instead, as I closed it, I realized the one of the outer pockets was wet. I cocked my head cautiously closer to this mysterious wetness only to discover in horror that it was cat pee; a gift from my loving cat Trouble (he continues to live up to this name on a weekly basis). Anyway, in some sort of protest, maybe of me leaving town or maybe the new puppy that now holds command over the first floor of the house, Trouble seems to have decided that my suitcase would be the perfect bathroom for him. It reeked! Yet, I don’t have another suitcase and didn’t have enough time to properly clean it. Quick fix: I soaked the outer pocket in pet cleaner and hoped that it would be clean and dry by the time I got to the airport. I loaded the car and began the hour drive to DIA. I discovered within less than 20 minutes that the car had filled with the unpleasant aroma of ammonia. I couldn’t get on a plane dragging that bag, that smell, behind me!

I made the executive decision to take a quick detour to pick up a pet deodorizer. I soaked my bag again, and with fingers crossed I continued on my journey to the airport. The deodorizer masked the smell enough that I no longer had the “eau de crazy cat lady” dragging behind me everywhere I went. The pocket still smelled of urine if you got close to it, but there was no reason that anyone should be sticking their nose anywhere near my bag, right? It would get me to Houston, where I could figure out what to do with it. I figured I was safe.

Never assume. I know this, yet still stumble onto this mistake more often than from time-to-time. I boarded the plane and went to lift my bag into the overhead storage compartment. A kind young man happened to be right in front of me. He happened to offer to help me lift the bag. He happened to stick his nose right up against the outer pocket, the one that smelled of cat pee. If he had an adverse reaction, he didn’t show it, but I wish I knew what flashed through his head in that moment, in that sniff. He had to have gotten a nose full, there’s no way he couldn’t have. I thanked him, and quietly embarrassed climbed into my seat to sulk in peace.

Now, here I am flying again, and despite my best efforts to clear that awful smell, my cat Trouble’s mark remains slightly pungent and dank, reminding me of his generous contribution constantly. I decided to spray it with perfume before leaving today. It covers the ammonia with a nice floral scent. I know that by tomorrow the rich perfume will be corrupted, but at least for today I can fly embarrassment free.

So, here I sit, row 12, window seat, looking across the wing at the colors of blue and clouds. Most people are uncomfortably propped up attempting an unrestful sleep as the plane rocks in flight. It’s now 9am (MST) and I have been in flight for about an hour. I am on my way to New Orleans. More than that, I am on the first day of a 3 week journey which will take me driving through 10 states across the country. I am starting this journey in New Orleans, enjoying the historic city (post Katrina), Jazz fest, and some good food. I will be flying solo for this trip, or I guess I should say driving solo.

Time out for a second… somebody in a row ahead of me just passed some awful gas! Even though I have turned my little air vent to high, the smell of putrid rot is lingering. I have avoided cat urine only to stumble into ass! “Oh, the simple joys of travel,” I respond in sarcasm biting my tongue and steering towards politeness over disgust.

Okay, back on track… I will be driving solo for the next two weeks. My itinerary is as follows: I begin in New Orleans for the weekend, staying with a friend of a friend who I have yet to meet. I leave New Orleans early Monday morning to drive to Pineville, LA where I will photograph Central State Hospital, then drive to Jackson, MS to stay with the Pax Christi (a bunch of elderly Nuns).

Insert another parallel… my mom used to be a nun when she was in her 20’s. I believe she was a nun for close to 5 years working and living around Mobile, AL. I don’t have the exact timeframe here, but she also got her nursing license during this time and worked doing community health care for highly impoverished communities, mostly hispanic migrant workers and poor black communities who lived in what she deemed “shotgun shacks.” Most of these families could not afford healthcare, so my mom worked on trade. One pre-natal visit would cost one sweet potato pie. My mom was also working towards her masters in mental health and was living on a pretty much fast food and ramen diet, so the trade of home baked goods for healthcare was appreciated on both ends.

Now, back on track, I will be staying with the Pax Christi, a bunch of elderly nuns, who my mom used to live/work with. Should be pretty interesting, bizarre, strange, cool, neat, and other such adjectives. From there, I will head over to Meridian, MS to photograph another institution. Then I get a day off, sort of. I need to be in Chattahoochee, FL by Thursday so my “day off” is actually a travel day. My hope is to make it to Mobile, AL Tuesday night after photographing the institution in Meridian. Then I can spend Wednesday slowly making my way down the gulf to Chattahoochee. I should have a handful of hours to enjoy the ocean, and sand, and salty humid air. Thursday, I photograph Florida State Hospital, then make the drive up to Atlanta for the weekend. I have a high school friend working for the CDC in Atlanta who I will be staying with. She never gets visitors, since most people don’t see Atlanta as the ideal vacation spot, so she is excited to have me as her guest. On Monday, I head to Milledgeville, GA to photograph another institution and try to find Amici Pizza, a local chain owned by one of my boyfriends buddies. Then on to … well, I’m not really sure here what comes next. I am hoping to photograph an institution in South Carolina, but it’s in the process of being sold into private ownership, so the new owner may not grant me access. I have been pursuing this hospital for weeks, only to be met with “wait, wait, we’ll get back in touch with you.” Still no word. So, if that falls through I contacted an institution in North Carolina as a last minute backup. I am awaiting approval from them, so, if that falls through too, I may just head up to Tennessee. I will have a couple days to visit another high school friend who is finishing up Med school and to visit a guy I dated forever ago’s twin brother and best friend who now live in Nashville. I will make my way across the great state by Friday so that I can photograph Western Mental Health Institute (formerly Bolivar State Hospital). My flight leaves out of New Orleans late Saturday afternoon, so I have a bit of a drive Friday night and Saturday morning.

At this point I will have driven over 2,000 miles in two weeks, photographed 6 institutions, and crossed 7 state lines. I will have attended Jazz Fest, visited New Orleans for the first time, hung out with friends from my teen years, and will have stayed with Nuns. I will have seen extreme poverty and wealth, heard stories that span the history of 150 years, dipped my toes in the ocean, and probably sweated through all of my clean clothes (I have only a carry-on suitcase which holds two weeks of clothes, my camera bag, and running shoes… just in case I have extra time, ha!). This would be a pretty good time to head home for a little respite and recovery time, but no, I am a glutton for pain!

Saturday night I fly from New Orleans to Los Angeles where I will be packing up one of my best friends, and beginning the 1,000 mile drive across the country east to Colorado. She has decided to leave her hometown of Los Angeles and try out the fresh Rocky Mountain air for a bit. We are hoping to make this drive fun and casual, visiting some scenic areas as we go. By the end of this trip I will likely return home, kiss my boyfriend, snuggle my puppy, and promptly pass out and sleep for 52hours or so. Or, perhaps I will have been deeply stung by that darn travel bug; my return home with fill me with the restlessness and discomfort of dry fixed land after having acquired my “sea” legs. There is something about living on the road and seeing something new and something different every day. This something is lonely but also the opposite of boring and bland. There is also something to be said about the simpleness of living from a suitcase, of realizing how little you truly need to survive, and in fact to strive! You quickly learn that the essentials will fit in a suitcase and a carry-on, everything else is fluff. And while the pocketbook will thin and run dry, I will be left far richer with priceless memories and experiences which is a fair trade in my book. So in the end, my 3,000+ miles will leave me exhausted and also perhaps hungry for more… said in the fashion of someone at the beginning of a long voyage, not the end. We’ll see what the report is from the other end of this journey, and if the optimism, hunger, and joy will survive the hardships of the voyage. So here I go, less than an hour from landing, here at the beginning of day one. Onward and tally-ho!