Two years ago I became fascinated by urban exploration in my local area. Initially I was nervous about the desire to creep around damp and rusting buildings, fearful that someone may be within the dilapidated abodes. However once summoning courage and armed with my old low resolution camera I ventured into the Birkdale Deaf School several minutes from my family home. Over the next three days I travelled to over six locations around the Southport and Liverpool area. Each location I arrived at I would film several minutes of footage just as a memento of the experience. It was not until I began a college course in Media Studies that I decided to edit this footage into a short video.
Unfortunately rather than my peers being equally fascinated by urbexing the usual responses I received were warnings about trespassing and deranged psychopaths lurking in the shadows. Luckily I am yet to experience the negative attributions urban exploration has been assigned, instead I find it a liberating and beautiful hobby.
My first experience of urbexing happened during my childhood, however I was not aware of the its name at the time. My father used to take my sister and I on walks around the neighbourhood. Each time we would take these walks we would walk past several large abandoned houses. Years past and we would witness the slow erosion of metal fences, the walls becoming more hidden by a thick carpet of ivy and the cars rusting on the gravel driveway. One day when I was eight years old walking with my father we stopped outside one of the large detached mansion and starred at the derelict property. We ended up climbing over the low brick wall, however instead of feeling a rush of adrenaline I felt a serene stillness creep over me. The loneliness of the house seemed to comfort me and as we walked towards a side door my father turned the handle and the kitchen was revealed to us. Standing in the dusty kitchen with tins of soup still in the cupboards and plates laid on the table. The house was as if the family had been evacuated, forced to leave everything they own; leaving a museum of their existence for me to witness. My father confidently strolled throughout the rooms of the ground floor while I trailed behind him observing family photographs, torn newspapers and stained carpets. I picked up the car keys that were placed in a glass bowl on a side table and I placed them within my pocket. I wanted to remember this experience therefore the keys became a souvenir of this visit. However an urban exploration rule I have often read about on forums is that one should never take any possessions from buildings. Therefore when I researched urbexing I began I realised I should not take anything, however I still had the desire to have mementos of each exploration. Therefore I decided I would take my trusty Nikon camera to the buildings so I could document the occasion. And so my urbexing photography began!
