PHOTOGRAPHER'S DIARY: An old, dry husk, the blacksmith's shop is pealing apart. Gaps in the wall expose dusty benches and the forge. An account book lies open near a window that's lost its glass, and tools rest near unfinished work, as if the smith might appear at any moment from a long lunch and fire up the cold hearth.
Who was this smith? Was he a lone individual or was smithing a family trade passed through generation? Signs of his work are on most of the buildings of the farmstead in hooks and latches and handles. Few farms of this size would have such a shop. Did this forge serve all the farms of Skarf Mountain?
4 comments:
Oooowwww, can't you go inside?
I can stick my head in, but I can at least see it all. The doors look pretty well jammed, and I only have permission to explore the property, not go inside.
Oh, I understand, we didn't ask permission to go inside, in fact it was illegal. But maybe you have to pay a lot more in the US when you are arrested, I guess it's 50euro overhere, not much for having good pictures. lol. But nobody saw us.
Take care.
My worry wasn't police, but the family that owns the farm have given me permission to shoot these barns whenever I want, and I have to honor their hospitality and trust.
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