Here’s a little trip to Skamokawa, WA. For starters, it is pronounced Ska-mok-a-way. People have a tough time with that. It’s tiny village, in fact, there is one website that calls it a semi-ghost town. I feel it when I pinch myself, so I know I’m still alive (if pinches measure that sort of thing, which I doubt they do) but it’s possible that the history of this place is larger than its present.
This is the center of town, or at least where the post office lives.
Skamokawa itself is on a creek that feeds into the Big River, but if you head toward my house, you drive through a valley that is separated from the river by a range of hills. There are farms there, and remnants of farms. I recently spent some time photographing the interior of a house that is slowly being taken apart. I wanted to capture the layers that had been laid down (or pasted up) by the 100 years of family life in that home. It seems I was successful. Someone made this comment about this photo.
“Hi, I’m an admin for a group called photographic immortality, and we’d love to have your photo added to the group.
Love those old style bath tubs, you have given this shot photographic immortality, great shot.”
I was glad to hear it.
There are many more photos of this house to be seen here.
A flickr search of the Skamokawa tag revealed this photoset taken someone who was on one of Mark’s tours last year. I especially like this photo of Andrew in his coyote cap and buckskin leggings playing fiddle for the group.