No One Home
June 23rd, 2006
Territorial ambiguity makes for some dynamic tension; it can be like the three bears.
New Orleans has long inspired curious trespassing with all its strange vacant spaces, but it feels a lot less comfortable since Katrina. It’s different when you are familiar with the circumstances that forced the people out and left the doors ajar.
No One Home is pictured at night, maybe illuminated in firelight. Perhaps a party house in one of those broken bottle zones, or maybe the home of an impoverished heir eking by on SSI. You wouldn’t know, but you’d have to poke around.
There’s a ten speed leaning there. It reminds me of when I was walking by the wharf and there was this red Schwinn with a headlight and tire generator. It was leaning over on a pallet in the corner. It wanted it, but I wasn’t sure it was truly abandoned. I figured I’d come back the next day to see if it was still there.
Then I imagined some guy having to park the bike in exactly the same position each day before starting his wharf shift. So I clicked the generator down on the tire, like Goldilocks would. I figured the bike would be mine if it was still down the next day, but I never came back. It was all a little too OCD, and the bike wasn’t worth it. But that’s private property for you.
-Adam