Film

Fiat 1600 Cabriolet interior, Los Gatos, CA.

Fiat 1600 Cabriolet, Los Gatos, CA.

Volkswagens, Bozeman, MT.

Dodge Charger, Butte, MT.

Abandoned farmhouse, unincorporated area, Gallatin County, MT.

Town and Country, Bozeman, MT.

Interior of an abandoned farmhouse, unincorporated area, Gallatin County, MT.

Oldsmobile Jetfire, Bozeman, MT.

Lift of some sort, Bozeman, MT.

Dodge Van, Bozeman, MT.

Firetruck, Bozeman, MT.

All images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon

Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

More specifically, 35mm film. One of the most potent inventions of the Nineteenth Century. A tool that defined journalism, television, and photography in general for centuries to come. 35mm film revolutionized the image-capturing industry so dramatically that, although often forgotten among the camera-phone equipped masses, it remains relevant in the present day and age. To me, the importance of 35mm film is far more concrete than its extensive and chromatic (although visually monochromatic for decades) history. I continue to shoot 35mm film because I find that my all-time favorite results are garnered not with my many thousand dollar professional digital equipment, but rather my decades old 35mm equipment. The images above are a collection of some my more recent film work (or at least recent in the fact that I developed them only a few weeks ago). They were shot in various locations in Montana and California, on Ilford FP4+, Kodak Porta 160VC, and Fujicolor 200 Film with a Nikon F5. Enjoy.

Maudlow

Schoolhouse, Maudlow, MT.

Playground.

Main entry, as seen from the classroom on the first floor.

Self explanatory.

Heater and interior, second floor.

Window latch, rusting away into colorful oblivion.

Supply shelves.

Textbooks. There were many more strewn about the floor, along with play money and other assorted elementary school detritus.

Art supplies.

Gas pump in front of one of the larger houses. I am unsure if it was once functional, or simply placed there as a yard ornament.

Door into one of the side rooms of one of the larger houses.

One of the smaller houses.


Curtains and an empty room inside the house above.


The town's last resident.

Inside the bathroom.

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

I stumbled upon this decrepit town completely by accident while out wandering around some dirt roads north of Belgrade. As many of my friends know, once I start down an unfamiliar road, I won't turn back until I'm forced to (which can make for some "exciting" day trips). Thus was the case a number of weeks ago when I became bored with Bozeman, got in the car and started cruising around. I ended up driving through the center of Belgrade and meandering down Dry Creek road until I saw dirt road off to the side (my thought process is generally dirt+corners=fun). True to my typical form, I turned off and followed that road for a while until it eventually spat me out in Maudlow.

I ended up poking around the town for a short while, then going inside one of the smaller abandoned houses. The ceiling was caving in, and the whole place just seemed creepy. The dead cat resting on a chair, staring me down with dark recesses that were once eyes, just may have contributed to the aura of creepiness. I left right about then.

The town managed to capture my interest and hold on to it. I spent a few hours online researching it (which amounted to next to nothing) and looking at maps of it and the surrounding area. Apparently, it was a stop on the Milwaukee Railroad up until the early 1980's when the railroad shut down. One can assume that most of the residents and their children relocated to Belgrade for jobs and schooling, leaving nothing but a few ranchers and a number of buildings behind. At the present, I believe there are two or three operational ranches in the area, but the town itself is all but completely deserted.

I returned a few days after conducting my research. This time, I wandered around and examined the structures for a bit longer, but was ultimately forced to leave by a nasty snowstorm (typical Montana weather; bright and sunny one minute, torrential blizzard the next). I was now extremely interested in the town, and knew that I had to explore its full capacity. However, I was also more aware of the sheer spookiness of the place.

Today, I went back with two assets to ward off the weird: friends and firearms. We were able to explore most of the town, and a decent proportion of its structures. There were some structures, however, that we did not dare approach. The '70's style double-wide with a newish satellite TV antenna on top, the house with gnarly campers next to it and a fan blowing inside, the rand up the road from the school, and finally, the house that stank of skunk were all avoided. As much as I would love to explore them, I can't help but shake the feeling that they are still inhabited, potentially by hillbillies from Deliverance. If I ever hear a banjo while out exploring remote ghost towns, I'll break the land speed record getting the heck away.

On the topic of people, strangely enough, the day we visited happened to be the day when everyone and their brother decided to drive through Maudlow. Until this point, I had yet to see anyone in or around the town. What added to the oddness of the "heavy" traffic (a whopping six cars, but still quite unusual for somewhere 30 miles out in the middle of nowhere), was the fact that all of the roads roads out, save for the one we came in on, were blocked by diabolical truck-eating snow drifts and their compatriots, the mud pits. We discovered this when we became involved in a little tussle with a few of them after driving 14 miles out of Maudlow in an attempt to explore more ghost towns. This tussle involved some full-throttle mud bogging and the use of 4-low, but ultimately we were able to turn around and get back home unscathed. Despite the snow, mud, traffic, and potentially realistic threat of dormant residents, I still find myself wanting to return to Maudlow. I could even make it all the way through to Ringling this summer when the roads are clear...

Night and its Inhabitants

All of the images above were taken in a junkyard in Four Corners, MT.

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

Everything is more interesting at night. Darkness gives objects, places, and even people a whole new dynamic. Things that are benign by day take on a strange and cryptic nature; the smallest step in a path becomes a vast sinkhole when stumbled down unexpectedly. We humans do not go out at night for whatever reason we choose to give ("I need sleep," "nothing to do," etc.), but at the core of our reasoning, lurking somewhere in our subconscious, is a fear of the dark. What we are truly afraid of is not the darkness itself, but rather the unknown. We are diurnal creatures, and as diurnal creatures, our eyes are not equipped to function when the lights go out. They lack the sensitivity of say, a digital camera sensor. This is exactly why I enjoy stumbling around in the darkness with a camera. Lighting changes drastically at night, and my cameras are able to capture the hidden aspects that I cannot see. Other colors of light, overexposed by the daytime sunshine, are visible and have a great effect on the way things appear. Light is also far easier to control at night. The world becomes one giant studio, where a strobe here and a flashlight or two there gives the desired effect, formerly unattainable with the sun bearing down from above, casting shadows and blowing out highlights.

The only drawback to night photography (for me, at least) is the risk of encountering wildlife of both animal and human forms. Apparently, the wolves here in Montana are particularly notorious, but I personally am more worried about the human wildlife. People here do love their firearms (not that I don't), and the fear of being mistaken for some sort of animal or miscreant and being on the receiving end of some buckshot is always at the back of my mind. Then again, of all the encounters I've had while taking pictures (trespassing or otherwise), none of them have been negative in Montana. In fact, the only instances where I was asked to leave or snarled at occurred in California. Every time I run into someone in Montana, an hour long conversation ensues, in which I'm given permission to photograph and usually a small history lesson. I may never leave this place!

California

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

I'm back home for a week, so I figured I'd revisit a few of my favorite places. Sadly, I came to discover that one of my all-time favorite locations, a hidden junkyard in the Santa Cruz Mountains, had been cleaned out, the property put up for sale. Although I am disappointed, I am glad that I went up there in the first place, choosing not to relegate it to my "I'll come back to it" list. Far too many opportunities are squandered with the "I'll come back to it" mentality. The chance to capture a phenomenal shot occurs only once. One must be there to capture it at the right time, even if it means disregarding other commitments. I cannot even begin to recall the number times that I blew off rowing practice in order to take pictures. Although some did not and still do not approve of this, I prefer to weigh the benefits against the detriments. After all, it's been nearly three years since I last set an oar in the water, but only three minutes since I last tweaked my camera (and yes, when I get a Leica, I WILL sleep with it). I think back to of all the potentially amazing shots I have missed because I told myself "I'll come back to it." Certain things are worth sacrificing for. The difficult part is deciding where to draw the line.

Junkyards and Yard Cars

Old Dodge and abandoned houses, Marysville, MT.

Unkown Kit Car, next to someone's trailer, York, MT.

1939 Chevy, junkyard, Four Corners, MT.

Methlab-tastic Dodge Commander RV, someone's yard, Saratoga, CA.

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon.
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

The word junkyard is a misnomer, because junkyards are not actually full of junk. They are full of photographic gold: beautiful patinas, artifacts from past existences, juxtapositions, contrast of purpose. Montana's junkyards are the best I've ever stumbled through. However, your average yards in Montana are more than sufficient; it would appear that nearly all of them, especially the rural ones, contain some sort of long-dead vehicle or piece of farm equipment. I don't believe anyone has ever sold a car here. Whenever one ceases to function (by virtue of severe mechanical failure or severe cash-flow failure) it would appear that it is parked on some unused corner of the property. By no means is this a crack at Montanans, or anyone else with yard cars. I love them. Please, by all means, continue to park worn out, old machinery in your yards, and continue to provide me with things to photograph.

Change

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

Change. The only constant in our world. The sole concept that never changes is, rather ironically, the fact that there will always be change. People change, environments change, objects change, but change does not change. Change defines the world in which we inhabit. Everything changes, and everything will continue to change, and there is no escaping that fact.

We tend to look at change as being either “good” or “bad.” Change is not as simple as the way we evaluate and explain it. As technologically advanced a population as we are, our minds are still not completely developed. Imagine how much we have progressed mentally since the time of the first humanoids. We should not assume that because we are the latest, most intelligent people to inhabit the earth, that we are the pinnacles of human evolution. We often forget that we are but a infinitesimal spec in time. We believe we are masters of a universe whose mere fringes we are only beginning to comprehend. Because we cannot possibly know whether change is truly “good” or “bad” on a universal scale, we examine it on an individual level, trying our hardest to prevent it or provoke it based upon our personal desires. As enticing as this may be, we need to learn to accept that change will always exist and cease attempting to control every aspect of our existence. There are things that we will likely never have the ability to control. Our perception of control is nothing more than an illusion that we have spun for ourselves, and it serves only to distract us from what we should be doing: broadening our understanding of our world, and the concept of change.

When change occurs, instead of panicking and attempting to prevent it, we should be investigating it on both personal and universal (or at least as close as we can come to universal) levels. We do not need to prevent change, instead, we need to preserve the memory of it. If we cannot suppress our yearning for control, then the least we can do is document the changes we encounter for those who will succeed us, so that they may take into account what we knew and experienced when forming their own worldviews.

Now here is where photography becomes relevant. Never has it been easier to record our world than now. With the prevalence of inexpensive, highly-accessible cameras (mainly in the form of the camera phone), anyone can be a historian, though many will simply choose to immortalize their friend’s naked keg stand for decades to come. Personally, I’ll stick to capturing the decaying rubbish that litters our fields and the sides of our roads, before it is swept away into landfills and lost forever.

The Snowplow

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon.
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

Nearly a year ago, I came across this snow thrower far on the outskirts of Bozeman, Montana. I was on a college visit and saw it while wandering around near the b&b I was staying at. I snapped a picture and went on with my day, not realizing that in the coming year, I would be visiting it again.

It's an old (obviously) Sicard Senior (not so obviously), manufactured in the 1950's by Sicard Industries. While not out of place in a state like Montana, its specific location seems odd. It seems to have just been parked there and left, but its location in relation to civilization says otherwise. It sits on a slight hill, facing a little-traveled two lane backroad, far away from any town or other place that would necessitate a machine of such caliber. My only conclusion is that someone desiring a large-scale yard ornament positioned it there, but that seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for a simple decoration.

Virtually everything that is abandoned has a story behind it, from the child's toy left in the woods, to the vintage pickup truck resting under the collapsed roof of an old barn, to the homeless man sitting on the corner of the Walmart parking lot, attempting to coax a few dollars out of someone's cavernous pocket so that he may eat. These stories range widely in depth and color, but one thing remains true of all of them: they provide some, even the most minute, insights into past realities different to our own. The snowplow is yet another object with a story just waiting to be told, which is why I keep returning to it.

Cars, Cars, Cars

Side of a road, Saratoga, California.

Industrial park, Bozeman, Montana.

Abandoned junkyard, Santa Cruz Mountains, CA.

Unknown private property, Saratoga, CA.

Industrial park, Bozeman, MT.

Abandoned junkyard, Santa Cruz Mountains, CA.

All Images © 2010 Declan J. Dillon. All Rights Reserved.
Please do not use/reproduce without my explicit, written permission.

They're everywhere. They rest in fields, old buildings, people's yards, and on the sides of roads, silently melting into their surroundings, slowly becoming entombed by layers of mud and foliage. Some will be found, recovered, and restored. Others, however, will continue to sink into the land they reside upon, eventually becoming a part of it.

Much to the annoyance of my family and friends, I live and breathe "car." I have been known to go to absurd lengths to photograph abandoned cars, or just cars in general. I spend most of my spare time wandering around, hoping to encounter something interesting. The images above are the product of my ongoing search.