seen but not heard: when one has spent a long time undressed from the waist down...

...one should consider going Down The Shore™, so that one feels, by comparison, less naked.

scrub © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The past couple weeks have finally started resembling the life I remember having a long time ago. Despite the lack of work... or perhaps because of it, I've been getting around. Gwyn, Michael and I decided for my first shoot-outing in a month, we should do it up right. Destination: Pennhurst State School and Hospital. We were given explicit directions on how to get onto the campus so as to avoid certain problematic situations. Little did we know that the rugged mile and a half trail on a near 100 degree day, in the very wrongest shoes, carrying a maximum of equipment would totally kick our asses before we actually even made it into a building. Magnificent blisters! Hobos! Humidity!

fire door © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

But! Wow. Once we settled on a building to investigate, we spent the next couple of hours, slowly making our way through the Christmas-themed rubble of the Assembly Hall, which looked as though it had been abandoned in the midst of a holiday pageant. Admittedly I felt a little off my game... having not shot in ages, feeling so totally drained before even digging in, not to mention having to literally take baby steps so that my feet didn't self-destruct... it took us almost an hour before we discovered what appeared to be living quarters above the auditorium.

organgrinder © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Pennhurst has suffered a great deal of vandalism, naturally, over the past twenty years it has sat vacant, more recently scrappers have really taken their toll. They were probably responsible for the destruction of just about every bathroom fixture. Most of the residents' possessions in this building were long gone, with the exception of a couple office-like rooms with some desks, toys, and some papers, including what appeared to be a music teacher's teaching aids - drawings of musical notes.

pageantry © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

We started to fade pretty fast, so we cut our visit short knowing we had a long, hot walk back to the car. I wasn't overly pleased with the resulting photos, but it inspired some curiosity and fears about the site and what I found made me question whether or not I wanted to take the risk and return. Better planning and a cooler day will probably make all the difference. It took me a two days to recover from that visit, but I am rather invigorated now, so bouncing back should happen faster. Walking now whenever I can, Nordictracking it in between.

scent of sleep © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The following week, finding herself temporarily unemployed, Shanners recommended we do something cheap and fun. We had been pining to visit Terrain at Styers for some time now and with a gorgeous day on our hands, we trekked out. With all of its parent company's inventive flair.

the opening © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Slackjawed and whimpering at the loveliness, we walked through, doubling and tripling back to admire and re-admire the copious gorgeousness, over the course of two hours. I could barely put down my camera. We enjoyed spritzers in the cafe and mused about how much more exciting our abodes would be if we were both independently wealthy. Ah if only.

altar © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The mercury has been fast on the rise for weeks now. Michael and I collective blood was boiling at the thought of staying in the city another weekend, with little choice but to hide out indoors. We whittled down the options, but the low 80s with low humidity with a breeze offered up by the OC, proved too tempting to ignore. Doused in sunscreen, we set out on the most backasswards route to avoid the well backed-up AC Expressway. On the to-do list du jour: walk walk walk, good-bad food, photographing. We walked the entire length of the boardwalk and then some. Admired wiry, sweaty jogger, obnoxious nearly naked youth, saggy swimsuited old ladies. And then steamers. Fried shrimp. Scalllops. French Fries. Gelato. Saltwater taffy. Ocean air.

cyclical © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Did a body good. And a mind.

Just before we busted a beachward move, I paid the Butcher a visit, the last for a long time (comparatively). After the last procedure, I swore he said we'd only wait a month before we could try to repair me again. The next time we spoke, I swore he said two months. This time, he said he wanted to see me at the end of August to see how we were progressing and then we would wait until the end of September to try again. My heart sank. Shanners and I talked and we realized that if I had the procedure at September's end, I would more than likely not be in any shape to shoot her wedding a couple weeks later. So I have decided that I will wait until mid-October at the earliest to attempt the surgery again. It is difficult to imagine that much time between here and health. Healthy birthday, no. Happy birthday, perhaps I can manage. Maybe healthy holidays. Goals are hard to set. Nay. Impossible.

descent © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Meanwhile... Happy New Year! I have a show in January at Cafe Estelle!!! Something to tide me over until I can secure a gallery showing with the constructs in mind. So this will likely feature my more recent abandoned interiors. First Tuesday of the month, opening, that is January 6th, 2009. Be there!