I'm a writer, photographer, and filmmaker living in Seattle, WA. My projects often relate to bonds between people and place, the existential weight of history, and the indomitable human spirit.
Focus:Photographer, Writer, Researcher, Fine Art, History, Documentary, Culture
Covering:USA & Canada
In 1814, Simeon and Heman Cooley—sons of a New England Minute Man—settled a plot of land in the wooded, rural hills of southeast Ohio and began laying out a village. Coolville, as it would be called, benefitted from access to the adjacent Hocking River and later from a nearby rail depot and the main regional road that coursed through the center of town. And although the village has never exceeded 700 residents, there was a time when it hosted at least two service stations, a family-owned grocery store, a motel, a flower shop, a locally owned restaurant, and two antique stores.
A significant alteration of the village's economic and social fabric began during the 1960s when the main road was expanded to four lanes and rerouted from the heart of town to its perimeter. The new route, along with the proliferation of chain stores in the region offering cheaper goods, reduced the stream of customers visiting the "mom and pop" businesses and eventually forced most of them to close. According to some, this economic shift, coupled with the relocation of the village's high school to another town, took a toll on Coolville's financial vitality and its sense of community. As in similar places in rural America, the present reality necessitates long commutes for work and prompts many young people to ultimately forge their lives elsewhere.
Lifelong Coolville-area resident Dave Rupe believes there had been an opportunity to attract new industry and jobs to the outskirts of the village back when the four-lane road expansion was being constructed. But whether the town was unable or unwilling to do so is a point of contention, and the prospect of what might have been leaves many feeling conflicted. "How much poorer would it have been if it were modernized?" he wonders. "It now has a significance for being frozen in time."
Many of the 500 people who remain here despite the challenges will point first to the peace and solitude it affords. Of Coolville's virtues, they also claim that it's still the type of place where a neighbor will be quick to lend a generator if your power is knocked out in a storm. It's a place where people might worry if you don't show up at a breakfast at the firehouse or a potluck at the library. It's a place where older folks relish shared tales of days gone by—stories of a monkey that lived in the old Roots service station, of a house that was picked up and carried down the street to prevent its demolition, of a flooded bridge, of spouses married and children raised, of commitments to a small town life that no external factor has been able to completely erase.
Roxanne Rupe, Coolville's librarian, helps her mother-in-law, Mary Rupe, into Roxanne's vehicle in February 2015. Mary would go on to spend the afternoon with her son so that she wouldn't be alone at her own house.
Roland Garcia stands in his backyard in Coolville, Ohio in April 2015. In 2006, Garcia and his partner, Tom, started looking to move from Florida to Southeast Ohio to be closer to Garcia’s mom who was in poor health. They found a 100-year-old house in Coolville, fell in love with it immediately, and left before even looking around town.
In the process of moving, Garcia’s mother passed away. Garcia and Tom made a decision to stay in Coolville.
Garcia says that his co-workers at Coolville's Arcadia Nursing Home became a second family to him. They were there to console and support him when Garcia was diagnosed with cancer and when Tom, his partner of 35 years, died of a heart attack this past November.
Dave Rupe types on his computer beneath his collection of deer mounts at his home two miles outside the center of the village of Coolville, Ohio, in February 2015. Rupe, who has lived in the area his whole life, is a skilled craftsman and makes a living by both selling his wares and by finding and reselling online items ranging from old farm equipment to unwanted animals mounts.
Vines are trapped between the outside world and a layer of plastic covering the window of an unoccupied house in rural southeast Ohio in February 2015. The building, constructed in 1861, is owned by Martha Carson, who grew up in it in the early 1960s. Carson now lives in a small town a few miles away and dreams of one day having enough money to restore the deteriorating house and to open it as a local museum.
Martha Sue Matheny, director of the Unity Singers community Choir, leads a practice session at the Coolville United Methodist Church. (back row, left to right) Judy Reaser, Bonnie Putman, Marsha Cowdery, Kathy Elasky, Sharon Powell, and Katherine Riley sing together with (foreground) Shelba Lipscomb.
In 2014, Dave Rupe constructed a 300-pound deer statue out of concrete and rebar and painted it bright yellow. He used a front-loader on a tractor to set the monument on top of an abandoned Coolville railroad trestle that sets at the back of his property two miles outside the Village of Coolville. The railroad was critical in helping Coolville thrive, but once Route 50 was built in the area rail transport slowly became obsolete and was eventually abandoned.