I’m working on an architectural painting. Not my usual rodeo. But she’s a story I drove by. The building itself is a bit of an architectural treasure to me. Possibly the only remaining Charleston Single Home original to the time still standing in Florence I’d pass her while traveling between schools last year.

I imagine at one point in time, someone else traveled a similar route to earn means through which to build this structure. Or was it handed to them, a result of another’s labor? Yet, now it simply sits, empty and unused falling into disrepair.

Watching the physical work of past generations fall to the wayside gives me pause. To me buildings in disrepair are scattered across the rural southern landscape in abundance. Like crops that were left to die. And I always wonder whose home was this? Why did they live here? Why are they gone? Was theirs a life of joy or sorrow? Who will tell their story?

Edit: April 6

fImages of competed piece..