Quite possibly the most unique experience and one of the most terribly beautiful moments of my life occurred this past weekend. Whilst upstate with a group of friends we were introduced to the secret location of an abandoned Victorian home. Left unlocked, almost as if someone were waiting for us and inviting us in. Certain elements reminded me of a serial killer's home (dirty stacked dishes in the kitchen, broken glass left next to a window that had obviously been fixed, and the bat skeletons that surrounded the entrance to the attic on the third floor), while other rooms were as charming as a doll house. I can't explain it as anything but weird and spooky: from the silk flowers that gave a sense of vitality to the dilapidating home to the obscure details such as the 1984 edition of The Newport Review lying on one table with a 2006 edition of Maxim lying on a table in the next room. Closets still filled with clothes and antique dressers still stocked with socks and panties, there was a sense of life, but also an emptiness that ran through my soul as we traversed the large, multi-roomed home filled with beautiful art and creepy taxidermied animals (not just some deer head shit, but I'm talking African mountain lions). Perhaps the photos below will give you a sense of the this eeriness I write of---Let's hope the ghosts didn't follow us back to NYC.
A million thank yous, hugs, and kisses to Anne Grauso for hosting such a wonderful weekend.
Much love to my compadres that braved the spookiness with me: Gabrielle Fishman, Anne Grauso, Joseph Wolf Grazi, Anne Huntington, and Darnell Scott.
Photos by Darnell Scott. To see more of his images visit DARNELL SCOTT