Kate Knox searches for the buildings most people have stopped seeing.
Late fall. Early spring. When the leaves are down. She and her husband take the backroads. The narrow ones that curve into stands of maple and disappear. They’ve learned the signs. Old stone walls. A row of decrepit apple trees. “Those kinds of landmarks dictate which turns we take,” she said.
Sometimes Knox finds what she’s looking for. The skeleton of a structure. Walls crumbling. Roof caving in. Open to the elements. Fighting physics. Defying gravity. “It’s so exciting,” she said. “Like the treasure hunt has paid off. Sometimes I cry.”
The discovery, however, is only the beginning. Before launching a drone or setting up her camera, she seeks out the nearest neighbor to ask permission. The conversation that follows is often as valuable as the image – stories surface, fragments of local history, personal memories tethered to the ruin. “That’s my favorite part of the process,” she notes.