The Ghosts of Mississippi - Black and White TinType Photography

Ghostly images of the past appeared before me with each click of the shutter. It was an almost subconscious or uncontrollable feeling as I dug deeper into this photo essay. Let the words roll as I post each image.

It had been years since I was in Mississippi; the last time was when my grandmother, Mary Alice Smith, had died at the age of 92. My mom grew up in Oxford and this time returned to her roots for her first real art show, the Double Decker Festival. While she was manning the booth and reigniting old friendships I took off with my cousin, Don, deep into the country backroads.

A Sea of Bathtubs - above

My cousin, Don, is my mom's age and grew up in the neighboring town of New Albany about 30 miles from Oxford. Like me, he was close to my grandfather who was a postman for rural routes and delivered mail to people that lived out in the country. With camera in hand I asked Don to take me to see some of the old mail routes my grandfather used to drive. Don obliged.

Spooky Old Tree - above image

As we drove deep into the country, Don told me stories of my grandfather taking Don on his mail routes when he was a kid. It must of been the late 1960's and Mississippi was a different place back then. Don told me stories of poor people that lived in cotton country and how my grandfather taught him how to drive through mud and get a car unstuck. Relics of the past still exist and I had to shoot what spoke to me.

Old Barn above Don patiently drove me around and stopped whenever I saw something interesting to shoot. "An old barn in the distance! Stop!"

An old black man sat on his front porch and the barn was behind his house surrounded by a large field, barbed wire separated the farm house and barn. I kindly asked the old man if minded if I could take a picture of the barn. With a great big smile, a voice of curiosity he replied with a smack of the lips, "Why would ya wanna do 'dat? ...Go right ahead! Hmmm...ma. Jus' hop over the fence."

After floundering through red Mississippi mud and getting covered in stickers I hopped back over the fence and walked up the main road where Don was waiting for me I saw this old Chevy pickup. The late morning sun glared off the windshield and the image that you see was burned into my mind before I even snapped off a shot. Something inside of me made me want more. It's these moments of discovery that drive me to shoot; I simply have to shoot and I never get tired of it. The images somehow speak to me...ghosts from the past in this case.

My Grandfather's Old Rural Mail Route

Farming still exists like has for a couple hundred years. Images of the past burned in my mind...pain and suffering lurks in the air. Yet somehow there was a kindness that lingered too; my grandfather was a kind man and I believe some of that rubbed off on me thanks to him.

On the way back Don and I drove by Rowan Oak. The home where William Faulkner lived and wrote many of his books. My grandfather told me he used to deliver groceries to Faulkner when he was a kid. Don told me a different story; he told me that grandfather would deliver moonshine whisky to Faulkner when he was a kid. My grandfather's older brother's make shine during prohibition and my grandfather was just an unsuspecting kid who delivered booze.

I will end this series with the first image of the bathtubs. Don said the moonshine was made in a bathtub. I wonder if one of these old claw tubs was used to make the shine that William Faulkner would buy from my grandfather...

Hwy 7 on the way to Holly Springs

Oh what the hell...I'll add some more images:

Another old barn

Some weirdness went on here I'm sure of it

Bad juju permeated the air with this one

Aikei Pro's Record Shop

Oxford's old courthouse ....more bad juju in the air. But I can say Oxford feels like a different place than it did when I was a kid in the 1970's. I think there has been a lot of good progress.

I nominate @twirble