Hold on, dear house,
— from Robert Creeley’s “This House”
What happens when the day comes when you can no longer hold on, nor can your dear house? How does a showplace slide into such disrepair that suddenly it's in danger of collapse and total ruin? Those are the kind of questions that the recent HBO broadcast of "Grey Gardens" has raised again.
If you missed the docudrama, the Broadway musical and the famed documentary by the Maysles brothers, it's the tale of a once-wealthy mother and daughter who become so isolated and live in such dilapidated squalor in their large East Hampton estate — Grey Gardens — that the health department is about evict them and raze the house. Wealthy relatives (Jackie O and her sister) come to the rescue, but the situation reverts in short order.
Joni at Cote de Texas has done an amazing post offering dozens of images of the house and grounds which have been transformed by Ben Bradlee and his wife, Sally Quinn, who bought the property in the late 1970's. Rescuing a house like Grey Gardens, when you have time and money, was not impossible, just expensive.
The "Grey Gardens" films look at two women whose situation and story is strange, titillating and creepy all at the same time. Their ruined house — like the ones above — is the magnet that draws us in. This house, a model of craftsmanship that is rare in today's building industry but was the standard in the late 19th and early 20th century, has the same appeal for us.
But what happens when huge swaths of a city are filled with veritable Grey Gardens? When neighborhoods resemble those historic photographs of Richmond after the Civil War; all brooding and burned-out. When you hardly have to turn around to snap the photos needed to create a blog featuring "100 Abandoned Houses." That's where all these images — taken in Detroit over the last ten years by Kevin Bauman — originated. (He notes that Detroit actually has about 12,000 abandoned houses).
As I looked at house after house captured by Bauman, I kept returning to all the concern over the renovation of Grey Gardens, as reported by Joni. The outrage when the front porch columns were replaced without a curve at the top where they met the bracing as in the original. "Whoa Nelly," as the late Molly Ivins would say. The porch posts above have a nice curve and the house is for sale, too.
This house made me think about all the blog chat because Sally Quinn painted the trim on Grey Gardens blue. This house is already blue; no need to worry about what colors to choose. If I am reading this little building correctly, it is a classic American residential style: business below and residence above. Bauman's abandoned houses are a veritable lesson in vernacular architecture.
Not all of the abandoned houses are off by themselves. This one is hemmed in by two buildings in good shape and clearly occupied. Though I am a bit surprised that those homebodies have not cleaned up the property and used the space for gardening!
I looked at every house on Bauman's site; mesmerized by a kind of horror at the private tragedies all those empty buildings imply. Dreams, lives and a whole city abandoned along with the houses.
Thanks to Kevin Bauman for permission to use his photographs and to Nibsblog for alerting me to his site.
Yes, I always wonder why those lovely old houses are taken and loved by someone. It would be interesting to hear their stories.
Here, where I live, I know of an old house with a story. It was purchased by people that own the local radio stations. They renovated the potentially beautiful old house for their business. They did a marvelous job. A person could move right into it.
There is another big old two-story house that sits on a nice sized lot that was derilect and a family bought it. It now has children, toys pool and a nice garden as I am sure it originally had.
Actually both houses have landscaping. Not real original but it is much better than it was of course.
I just love seeing the come back of old houses and seeing what kind of garden pops up around them.
I have seen mentioned quite a bit about Detroits miseries of abandonment lately with the car industry having such a difficult time.
Posted by: Lisa at Greeenbow | Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 06:21 AM
We made a collection of photos of wooden houses in New York State in the sixties.
Even then we were surprised that there were no regulations and no grants to take care of those gems.
Is that still the case?
Here in the UK old houses are ever so strictly regulated and when you are given a 2-star rating, like we were, you can't even alter the colour of the window frame paint. But you can apply for grants to help with upkeep.
Posted by: jo | Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 06:35 AM
Joco — some old houses and even whole neighborhoods are protected. And, as in your case, you can't make any changes — usually just on the outside though. Were the photos you took of derelict houses? Did you live in NY or where you just traveling?
As Lisa notes, this is a different situation with a number of cities having massive numbers of abandoned houses as their industries have been outsourced to places where labor is cheaper. People have no jobs, no money and now no place to live.
Posted by: LINDA from EACH LITTLE WORLD | Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 06:41 AM
One of my favourite David Francey songs is "Torn Screen Door" - although I hope I'm not off-topic for mentioning it, because it's about abandoned farms, not urban homes. But it does include the lyrics, "Had a life that they tried to save/ But the banks took it all away/ On a sign on a torn screen door/ 'Nobody lives here no more'."
It's a very short song - 1 min 38 s, but I can assure you, it follows me around...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYIO101UGYw
Posted by: Sarah Osborne | Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 07:32 AM
Sarah — thanks for that link; the song is wonderful, if a bit of a heartbreaker. David Francey is new to me so I am going to listen further. John Mellencamp's song "Rain on the scarecrow/blood on the plow" is another one about the loss of family farms. I always found abandoned farmhouses sad but the scale of that trauma seemed more individual, especially compared to this mass urban crisis.
Posted by: LINDA from EACH LITTLE WORLD | Thursday, April 30, 2009 at 08:48 AM
Very thought provoking and fascinating photos. Every town has a few, it seems. They are what my kids would call "haunted houses," but it's hard no to fantasize about sprucing one up and moving in.
Posted by: JGH | Friday, May 01, 2009 at 02:40 PM
What a beautiful collection on images. there is beauty is everything!
and thank you so much for the shout out!! much appreciated, to be sure.
Joni
Posted by: Joni Webb | Friday, May 01, 2009 at 02:47 PM
I really enjoyed the link. The pictures were haunting and beautiful at the same time. They reminded me of one of my favorite photographers, William Christenberry. Also, having grown up in Richmond, I appreciated the reference.
Posted by: Les | Friday, May 01, 2009 at 03:49 PM
Thank you for writing about this Linda. And for broadening the definition of "landscape."
My dad's family was from Detroit (via Buffalo, NY) and even in the 1970s, when we last visited, it was painful. Can't imagine it now...
Posted by: Julie Siegel | Sunday, May 03, 2009 at 07:13 PM
There is an amazing link on the Detroit Free Press website that takes you on a tour of the abandoned train station. It is an iconic Detroit landmark and the commentary is insightful as well. Here's the address (it's quite short but there is a commercial first):
http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?category=videonetwork&videoID=1103082367
Posted by: LINDA from EACH LITTLE WORLD | Sunday, May 03, 2009 at 08:32 PM
It’s sad to see these abandoned houses. Some are really beautifully designed.
Posted by: House Designs | Tuesday, March 20, 2012 at 12:23 AM