Tim Jon
By Tim Jon Believe it or not the prospect of a new artistic project often includes a healthy dose of fear: not due to any real or even imaginary danger involved with the adventure, but—for me—a feeling of inadequacy. What if I go to the well of inspiration and come up empty? What if I…
By Tim Jon I didn’t remember many details, and I certainly didn’t want any more information. I had no pressing reason to find out the who, what, where, when, how or why—and I didn’t even really need to answer to this event’s overall importance to Loudoun County, Virginia. Huh-uh. I was here for myself, and…
By Tim Jon This wasn’t what I came for; the morning of my visit to the subject of today’s verbal (and physical) foray. I was planning on collecting images from an abandoned farm site in Ashburn and there are not many of them left in that area, but I discovered that the property was very…
By Tim Jon I don’t think about ol’ Pythagoras very often, but I would probably need some of that legendary mathematician’s insight if I were to make an attempt at calculating the number of times I’ve driven by this place. In this case, ‘driven by’ means coming to within a few mere feet (okay, yards…
By Tim Jon Proof of Loudoun County’s identity as a conundrum – or a vortex of mysterious forces – rears its head again as I approach this story of one writer’s search for the Holy Grail of the day, only to utterly fail in the attempt…
By Tim Jon By the time I arrived, they were all resting – at peace – sleeping the approximate six feet underground; I’d driven up to the Village of Waterford from the south, with a journey through fog and dense greenery – not to mention some incredibly rough roads – and – quite unexpectedly came…
By Tim Jon I was so anxious to explore this place, I arrived long before sunrise and forced myself to wait in my car until I could at least justify the camera in my pocket; I’d made the discovery – just a few days before my visit – of a new ‘sleeping giant’ of a…
By Tim Jon I am not one to dwell in the past; in the performance of my six-day-a-week job, my colleagues and I generally work at such a frantic pace that we joke about forgetting our own names. That’s not as far from the truth as you might guess, what with mail carriers expected to…
By Tim Jon Next time I stop in, I want to hear the birds sing, as I took an early morning stroll around the land set aside as the Burial Ground for the Enslaved at Belmont. I found the silence broken only by the nearby traffic on Route Seven – with the motorists – understandably…
By Tim Jon The place appeared to be sleeping, the last time I visited. And that was fine, as I’d driven from my home in Leesburg that morning – coming up through the Town of Middleburg and then on a series of unpaved roads – passing through the small community of Bloomfield on the way.…