At the age of 40, I became bothered that I didn’t have a hobby. Photography was something that always intrigued me for reasons that I initially couldn’t explain, but I had never pursued it as a passion or profession until recently. As social media was growing in popularity, I had become enamored with images of extreme weather I was seeing online – most notably moody storm clouds with lightning. I had connected with a couple of local photogs in Richmond who shared the same interest, and we developed a friendship and a passion for chasing storms. Not familiar with the gear in which I should invest, I took the advice of one of them, who was shooting Nikon (he has since switched to Sony) so I invested in some Nikon equipment and began chasing lightning.

Intercepting those storms would often lead me to very rural towns in Virginia. As I traveled the back roads in pursuit of some killer cloud-to-ground bolts, I would pass hordes of derelict houses on the side of the road. The more I would see these places, the more intrigued I became by them. I eventually became tantalized to the point of stopping on the side of the road to photograph them. I was primarily drawn to their mood and texture, and secondarily to their mystery. I would think to myself, “What happened here… who lived here?” or “Why did it go abandoned?”

Despite that initial desire to find answers and quench my thirst for information, I instead started an Instagram account and began posting away. As the years passed, I quickly became aware that there was an entire subculture of enthusiasts that photographed urban and rural decay. This platform became the catalyst for me to dive deep into this hobby, while creating many personal and virtual friendships. To this day, I still explore with many of these individuals.

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As the years passed and the online collection grew, I became disenfranchised with the superficiality of the ‘like’ button on IG. It no longer was satisfying to me. This passion quickly became much deeper in scope. These places became important to me. Despite their grotesque exteriors, I knew that they once provided valuable shelter and memories to many families. If those walls could talk, there would be many an unbelievable story to be told. I set out to get the backstories as my own personal “Virginia History” mission. I would find these places in a number of ways… using aerial maps to search for rusted roofs and the absence of mailboxes; interrogating the local firemen; interviewing loggers; engaging patron at local diners; and loitering in gas stations.

What I discovered was completely contradictory to my initial expectations. Not only were these rural Virginians accommodating to strangers, but they would go above and beyond to help me. I quickly found out that once I expressed an interest in their community, and they realized my intentions were benign, all they wanted to do was help me accomplish my goal of finding more places and sharing their accompanying stories. I can’t count how many times I have been invited into their homes, fed meals, and become privy to their dusty boxes of pictures that they’ve pulled from the attic – all filled with vintage pictures of these places, and the people that once occupied them. These pictures and stories gave me closure. This hobby suddenly became very intrinsically fulfilling.

As my social media following grew, and my community reputation spread, the next logical step was to create a photographic book to commemorate these beautifully abandoned places. Two years later, “A Beautifully Broken Virginia” was launched, and the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts added me as an adjunct faculty speaker to their Statewide Partners program. This sent me all around the state to lecture about my findings. This was the “crack in the dyke” that was needed. Owners of long abandoned decaying homes came out of the woodwork to share their stories with me, many of whom lived in the very houses that were published in my book. I would feverishly take notes as these elderly people reminisced, and my portfolio of fascinating stories became wide and deep.

I began a private speaking tour around the state called “Stories of an Abandoned Virginia” and ventured into the world of public speaking, sharing the very stories that were shared with me. These speaking engagements were accompanied by a highly visual slide presentation. My initial venues were local libraries. That escalated into art museums, and eventually large theaters. It was at this point I realized that there are thousands of others that share the same passion for abandoned places, and the stories that occurred within those walls.

As odd and as unique as it may sound, the sentiment for these places is widespread. I realized that the imagery of these places often elicits a very powerful emotion – often of sadness or intrigue. That emotion is intensified when the image is of an abandoned interior of a home, or a church, or a school.  

Hundreds of my discoveries have been of just that – fully furnished homes, untouched for decades. It’s like walking into a time capsule. I find rooms full of original furniture, closets full of clothes, family and wedding photos, vintage newspapers and magazines, eyewear, prescription medication, and more. When stepping inside of these places, you become PART of them, and can temporarily fantasize about what life was like for each of them.

My discoveries are not limited to houses. Old churches are my favorite. I’ve found well over 100 abandoned churches alone in the state of Virginia, and I’ve only covered about 10% of the state. Hymnals are often left in the pews, a dusty Bible remains on the pulpit, and cobwebs cover the holy water dispensers. There are also hundreds of abandoned schools that pepper the countryside, many of which are highly historical in nature (note Rosenwald Schools). The floors are covered with old report cards; moldy student health records sit in piles in the corner; and old vintage desks and accompanying textbooks are still neatly organized in front of the chalkboard. Insane asylums are the best! …and by far the creepiest. Interior discoveries in these old asylums have included surgical equipment, hydrotherapy tubs with canvas restraints, derelict morgues, and patient records. I have also found thousands of old rust bucket vehicles in the woods, several vintage diners, and even an abandoned rural library in the woods!

Despite the visual sensationalism of these finds, I have grown to appreciate the stories behind them much more than just the images alone. If it wasn’t for the friendly demeanor and accommodating attitudes of my fellow Virginians, none of this would have been possible. I now spend most of my weekends delivering public tours of the field of abandoned Presidents Heads (on hold for COVID reasons). This has been not only a tremendous learning opportunity for me, but an educational opportunity for the thousands of others that have visited. I’ve also partnered with the landowner of the highly historic Belmead on the James property for the purpose of conducting tours. The property includes a beautifully decaying mansion that was built by a Civil War general, and an abandoned girls school that was created by a philanthropist from Philadelphia. She donated her inherited fortune to advance the educational initiatives of Native and African American students.

Humans have a subconscious obsession with a sense of place. When it is manifested in old abandoned structures, it can be a very powerful emotion. I plan to continue to bring these places and their stories to the general public, not just to properly commemorate them, but with the ultimate goal of getting Americans to develop a deeper appreciation for their past. I am not sure when or how this journey will end, but I sure am enjoying the ride.

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John Plashal is from Richmond, VA

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