2025 06 18

House in spring. Mt Sterling, Illinois. March, 2025. © Clayton Hauck

I printed some recent Ill Wandering images in black & white, this one included, for a photography show this Friday, June 20th, at my studio. If you’re one of the three people who will see this post and are free that night, it would be swell if you could swing on through! There will be drinks and snacks, along with photos from two other photographers and our Realm photobook popup shop. In a way, it’s kind of like my own art photography coming out party, or at least that’s what it feels like.

More info about the event can be found here.

-Clayton

2024 04 26

Abandoned house. Chicago, Illinois. February, 2025. © Clayton Hauck

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how time slowly eats away at things. This tree on our block has been slowly losing limbs. This house, behind the tree, has been sitting abandoned for years now, exposed to the elements, the wood surely rotting away and losing its strength. It’s a decision we can make, to hold on and keep gripping. But after enough storms, even the strongest among us eventually choose to allow nature to take its course.

Without death, life is not possible.

Eventually, the for sale sign goes up, and if luck plays any part, new life is breathed in and a new start can begin. The train depot becomes a hotel. The hotel becomes apartments. The cobbler becomes a scarf shop, then a music studio. Time is a flat circle, you hear on television show, a line the writers lifted from a book, which was stolen from a spoken tale. With luck, your circle will be one filled with joy and adventure.

-Clayton

2025 04 15

A house in winter. Chicago, Illinois. March, 2025. © Clayton Hauck

Sometimes my inner voice just tells me I need to make a photo of something. This house was one of those instances.

As I was making this photo, a man walked out of the front door to grab the mail.

“I like your house.” I told him, to take an edge off of the awkward moment.

“Really?” he asked, calling my bluff. “It’s probably going to be for sale soon.”

I told him I already had a house as I walked off, regretting not asking him a dozen other questions (why are you selling? where are you going? how did we get here?).

Curiosity is how I got here. I know that much.

-Clayton