Thursday, May 11, 2006

The place where bicycles go to die...

I was shooting in a house in the Swan Valley yesterday and it was one of the more surreal shoots I've done in recent times. In every room there were various parts of bicycle carcasses in differing states of disrepair. One room essentially just had frames, another wheels and the third gears, seats, handlebar grips, foot pedals and the like.

Besides being oddly 'decorated', some houses also have a very strange silence about them.

Ashby House, for example, is extremely close to a major road and has neither roof, doors or windows. Yet, when inside, it's like you can't hear anything from the outside.

The only sound is a very precarious piece of corrugated iron roofing that hangs by one rather pathetic looking nail. This creaks very eerily as the wind moves it about.

The irony is that it's directly above where I stood to shot the most significant photo in that location. It's very hard to shoot a photo and be coiled enough to jump clear if required.

I've since heard that this house is supposed haunted and, whilst I don't believe in such stuff, there was a very tragic sadness in that space.

Unfortunately this house has also been recently severely

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