I wearily drove through the neighborhood after a long three-day conference on Saturday the 15th to find this one down to its driveway. I stood here for a good hour taking pictures of what little remained, waking up in the cold. There was a decorative lamppost in the far corner of the yard which had been used as a bird’s nest in recent years. I never noticed this little detail until the rest of the house was gone. Nicknamed, The Hot-Water Heater House, this place had also given me some of my favorite images, particularly in black and white. Last fall I found a newspaper that had blown into the yard with the headline, “Monuments to the Past.” Although the article was actually about a graveyard, I found the inclusion of the newspaper article into many of my shots here a fitting, final tribute. This place was a gorgeous little house that again would have been a great place to call home. It felt comfortable and well cared for long even long after its front beams were pulled off and the roof finally gave way. This house was full of warm pastel light and the little decorative touches that give a home character. The best part of this house was the hand-painted bedroom with folksy animals frolicking together in an intensely hued grassland. The sun was perpetually bright and it was always spring in this wonderful little room. Despite the fact that I am currently working on my MFA in painting, I refuse to lament against this kind of homely and accessible art and accept it as an act of kindness and selflessness. I enjoy and almost envy how untrained people paint with such freedom away from the accepted and pompous genres of the fine art world, decorating their world with loose brush strokes and monochromatic rabbits. This art is not for the attention-whoring art world. The hours it took to paint this room was simply for the comfort and happiness of the child it was painted for. I nod at this achievement, and glad I took many photos of this small but not forgotten act of art.