When the restrictions eased for the first time after the beginning of the covid pandemic, I travelled to my old home town for the first time in a while. I took part in a dance performance, met old friends, drank wine and in general enjoyed the small fragments of freedom, which had returned.
One of the people I met was a barista at the café I had previously frequented at. We had been urbexing in several locations the previous summer, and she had continued on her own. She tipped me about a small and well preserved cottage, which she had visited with her room mate a few weeks back.
We bought bottles of wine and went for a long walk. After a few times of getting lost, we found a small white cottage.
It was unremarkable, yet cute. We took a quick look to see that there were no people in sight, and then my friend started guiding me towards the entrance.
Except that there was no entrance. Somebody had boarded the door shut with old wooden boards. My friend was astonished and said that the entrance had been wide open just a few weeks back.
Lesson of the day: enter when you have a chance. It may be gone next week.
I completely resonate with your sentiments regarding missed opportunities. I can’t tell you how many times I have missed out on something because of fear, self-doubt, or simply because I didn’t take the chance. Ironically, the majority of these times are associated with urban exploration as well.
Thanks for your reply! Urbex really is a hobby, where you can either act or miss. I regret using only my phone when roaming through Finland the summer this photo was taken. I really should have returned to using a real camera earlier. But there’s really nothing to do about it anymore.
For me, looking back on past urban adventures often brings a sense of wistfulness mixed with gratitude.
Wistfulness because those experiences are now in the past and can never be recreated exactly as they were, and gratitude because I was lucky enough to have those experiences in the first place.
Many abandoned buildings and structures that I used to explore and photograph have been demolished. It makes me sad to think about how they once held secrets of the past, from old machinery and equipment to graffiti art, and sometimes even murals. By exploring these forgotten spaces, it was always my goal to uncover and document a unique perspective on the city and its history that is not accessible through mainstream tourism. These were places that people rarely thought about, and would never visit.
I follow your blog closely and enjoy your posts as they are a form of nostalgia for me, and now that I’m older, and arguably more responsible (reality: I’m less willing to take risks), I enjoy seeing the photographs of your adventures.
It’s my turn to admit that I resonate with your sentiments. Many of the places I’ve explored have been demolished, but I have rather mixed feelings about it. If I haven’t been able to explore them, their disappearance feels like the end of the world. If I have documented them, I just think, that despite the sadness it was time for them to go.
I’ve seen you follow the blog closely and really appreciate it. Thank you! It’s also a form of nostalgia for me, as I’m updating this a few years behind real time. One reason for that is that I only started to think about publishing 12 years after I started photographing, the other reason is my own personal safety. I want a time gap between my actual visit and the moment I make my visit publicly now.
Wonder when I stop taking risks. I actually got an artist’s grant for next summer’s adventures!