No longer bright, but still barred up Yesterday, I sat down with a notebook that contains a lot of things; some are journal entries, some recipe ideas, some funny moments in my life I want to remember, others assorted moments, memories, random thoughts I have.  Yesterday, I sat down and dedicated a page of that notebook to things I want to photograph, challenges I want to give myself, random ideas of series.  Lots of photo ideas.  Today, I took on one of those ideas/challenges.

In this notebook, I had jotted down a note about a shed at lacrosse practice.  For several years, I've been eyeing that particular building.  It's in various states of disrepair, though still functional as a park district building.  It is in plain sight, but hidden.  It is wedged between the high rises that rim Grant and  Lincoln Park and Lakeshore Drive and the shores of Lake Michigan.  No one would ever see it unless your sport, or your child's sport landed you in a particular remote parking lot.  We've spent a lot of time in that remote parking lot.   Paint bubbles Today, I went back to that parking lot.  No one was there. The city was throbbing and pulsing around me.  Cars flying down Lakeshore drive.  The constant sound of sirens, a distant L train.  Horns blaring.  Seagulls squawking.  Birds heralding spring.  The skies were overcast and the planes coming into Chicago's airports, low and loud.  Peace in the city is fleeting, at times.  But, that, ultimately depends on how you describe peace.

I've learned to find peace behind my lens and viewfinder.  I have learned to find peace in searching out what others do not see.  I know that hundreds of lacrosse parents, soccer parents, rugby players, and coaches of all have passed by this shed and never noticed the detail in this rundown park district shed.  I know that I passed by it many, many times over several years before I thought I need to take a closer look.  I encourage you all to take a closer look, too. It isn't always what it seems.  You can find the rest of this location shoot here. Barn door hinge, in the city