What is it about this old barn wall that I find so beautiful, and want to photograph.

Would I always have noticed it and loved it? Am I just perverse?

This wall tells a hundred stories, and has so many things going on.

I can imagine the farmer who walked through here a hundred times a day, and the animals

who stuck their heads out, and the tools, feed and hay inside. To me, it is an artwork,

an act of great and honest utilitarian creation. The creative spark, just as much as a painting in a museum.

Maybe more.