Blog Archives

sears is almost gone

At the very end of 2018, the Sears store in Lubbock was closing. I decided to take a series of photographs of its last days, which I thought would be an interesting social experiment. At first I was worried that the store personnel might object to my being there. I think at the beginning of the few weeks I shot there, maybe a couple of employees realized what I was doing, but as the giant Number of Days Left banner counted it down, they cared less and less. Random photographers are not that big a problem, I guess, when your very job is about to evaporate.

The other day, while I was wandering around Maine – the way you do – I pulled into a parking lot to check the map and find out where I actually was compared to where I was more or less heading. At I saw the remains of a Sears store. And because I am easily entertained, I spent some time taking photos before I checked the map and headed on my wandery way.

Brunswick, Maine
photographed 3.18.2026

faded (old) glory

Just because buildings are vacant/abandoned doesn’t mean there’s nothing to  see.

This little vignette’s got metal siding where a big plate glass window used to be with a smaller window stuck in. And – and! – a very tattered and faded American flag.

The other side of the shot has a sign whose awkward wording led me to read it as “home drop off please no furniture” which naturally made me wonder why they wanted people to just drop off vacant homes. Ah, language: so amusing. Ha, my thought process: probably not so amusing.

Tahoka, Texas
photographed 3.5.2026

a specific danger

And while the whole building may look dangerous, I guess it’s just that one corner of the garage door that we need to worry about. (Which is very helpful information, right?)

Lamesa, Texas
photographed 3.5.2026

thumbprint

“So, what do you photograph?” – a frequent question I get.
 
I usually don’t get into how very much I love to find abandoned places that include reflections of whatever is behind me. But, yeah: that’s what I photograph.
 
Tahoka, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026
PS – Sometimes I’ll say I document the decline of small towns on the High Plains of Texas as a symbol of greater declines in environmental and societal safety that are mirrored across the country. Other times, I’ll say “rural towns” and if I’m really in a mood, I say “old crap I find.” It’s too hard to explain my deal with reflections.

 

the passage

An abandoned farmhouse on the High Plains tells a story – a story of dreams, of rural traditions and expectations, of change, of endings.

An abandoned farmhouse with a wheelchair ramp tells a story that seems more complicated. And more sad.

Lynn County, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026