I’d been thinking about my Soul of Athens project for a long time. Working on a photo essay in Carbondale, Ohio, the entirety of my winter term, I’d begun to learn what it meant to do something in-depth; meeting lots of really, really interesting people along the way. In particular, there was one story that I planned on focusing on when I returned from spring break. However, after our first Soul of Athens class and almost immediately after I’d left the “Experience” group’s first meeting, I found myself in Carbondale, Ohio, searching without much luck, for the two people I’d intended to spend time with and photograph. They were nowhere to be found.

That said, while I searched and searched, I ultimately came back to our next meeting with several story ideas also based in Carbondale. Beyond working there most of the winter, I also thought Carbondale was a small town that represented a lot of the history of the area as well as, the current issues in the region (not to mention that I just enjoyed spending time there). Near the end of the winter term I’d spent in Carbondale, I’d meet Bucky Hall, his wife, Christie, and their two boys, Michael and Aaron. At the time I’d meet them, they were living in Christie’s mother’s house, a small trailer right in the center of Carbondale. I’d previously heard that, before they moved into the trailer, they’d squatted in a small camper above Carbondale but I only had a vague sense of how much history rested on that land. When I returned to Carbondale after my break, I soon found out that – with the good weather – Bucky, Christie, and their family had moved back into the camper and were trying to revitalize the land up there. Ultimately, I decided that my original story would require more time than we had for Soul of Athens and I devoted myself to spending time with Bucky and his family.
Looking back on it now, I couldn’t be happier with my decision; not because I’m happy with the work, but because Bucky, Christie, Michael and Aaron were so wonderfully open and honest with me about their lives. There’s a lot of talk within photography, and especially at OU, about why photographers choose to focus on the stories that they do. When I began this story, I really had to ask myself those questions. At the end of the day, however, I found the story so compelling because, in my mind, it was an opportunity to tell one family’s history while watching another be created. To me, the piece was just as much about Bucky’s intense personal connection with the land on which he was raised as it was about the family he’s now raising on it.

In modern life, we don’t often have the same connection to the land on which we live as previous generations have had. We don’t farm the land, we don’t stay at home for as long, we move away and we leave behind. Obviously, the location of Bucky’s upbringing had pretty polarizing memories associated with it; the tenderness he shared for the way in which he was raised alongside such tragedies as the suicide of his brother. In his attempts to leave, Bucky would constantly express how the act of moving away was tantamount to abandoning his family. When his brother committed suicide, I think that just compounded that feeling. Now Bucky’s not only revitalizing the land in order to make a home for his current family but also – in some sense – trying to come to terms with that trauma; in the act of renewing the land, he seems to be making amends with the very real decisions he made that drew him away from Carbondale in the first place. The thought of being so deeply and emotionally connected to a piece of land that was yours but now isn’t, especially in a time and place where it’s rare to see someone care so much for something, was extremely moving to me. And, of course, the very practical reality that you might be asked to move your entire family’s way of life at any moment, was staggering. Ultimately, the resilience, courage, and love that I saw in the face of these types of conditions, was a story that I thought people should know about.
Bryan Thomas














