Swazey Hotel
On the corner of Main and Union Street stands the Swazey Hotel, a two-storey wooden building that leans noticeably to one side. The fact that it is still standing at all is down to the support beams that the State Park rangers have installed at the rear. It is a prime example of ‘arrested decay’: the building is stabilised just enough to prevent it from collapsing, but it is not straightened out, so as to leave the process of decay visible.
In its heyday, at the end of the 19th century, Horace Swazey’s house was a place of remarkable functional honesty. Whilst travellers spent the night in narrow beds on the upper floor, he ran a shop downstairs, selling everything from fine fabrics to sturdy clothing for the miners and, apparently, coffins too. Swazey was one of those figures who symbolised the transition from the wild gold rush to the organised small town.
I took this photograph here early in the morning. The dark, almost black sky forms a beautiful contrast to the faded wood.
For me, the Swazey Hotel is one of those subjects that show decay can possess a dignity of its own. An image that conveys the quiet power of this place particularly well.


























