Michelle Bir captures the haunting remnants of buildings lost to time

Camera in hand, Michelle Bir steps over broken glass, beer cans and old textbooks to enter the crumbling building on McBryde Street in Linden.

Mold and mildew discolors the peeling walls of the abandoned schoolhouse. Overturned desks fill some rooms and spray-painted graffiti attests to the presence of vandals.

Not a pretty sight by a long stretch, but Bir couldn’t be happier.

“I could spend all day here,” she said.

Bir, 32, is doing what she loves - visiting an abandoned building and photographing what she sees.

It’s a hobby Bir has pursued for the past four years or so. Since she moved here in April, the Fayetteville area has been her hunting ground.

“They all have stories,” Bir said. “You see a building and you wonder what it is and how it got that way.”

Bir grew up in the Detroit area. In 2007, she married Kenneth Bir, who is in the Army and stationed at Fort Bragg. The couple have three children.

Kenneth Bir’s job meant the family moved frequently. At various times, they called Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee home.

Bir, who enjoyed photography as a hobby, said she had always been interested in architecture, particularly classic styles such as Greek revival.

Once-grand buildings that had fallen into disrepair particularly interested her.

“They’re just kind of haunting,” Bir said. “I always get like a sense of curiosity about what occurred there. The place used to be so alive, and now it’s in the state it’s in. What happened?”

Bir found her first subject - an abandoned cabin - in Clarksville, Tennessee. She photographed the crumbling exterior of the clapboard building, as well as its haunting, now-empty interior.

Photographs of the cabin, as well as some of Bir’s other subjects, can be found on her website, birtography.com.

After photographing the cabin, Bir was hooked. Every time the family moved, Bir hit the road to scout out the seen-better-days structures that others might overlook or even avoid.

In Elkton, Kentucky, Bir took pictures of the Green River Academy, which was built in 1835 and once housed a women’s school. In Guthrie, Kentucky, she photographed a house that stood in front of a Civil War-era cemetery.

Occasionally, Bir’s photographic sojourns have taken her to some dark places. In Concord, she photographed the Cannon House at Stonewall Jackson Manual Training

would restore them to their glory days,” Bir wrote on her website. “However, here I felt nothing other than deep despair and the urge to burn it down.”

Bir combines the photographs she takes with research into her subjects. She posts histories of the structures she photographs on her website.

Bir said she tries to obtain permission to enter the buildings she photographs. But if she spots an open door, she isn’t shy about walking right in.

“It’s easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission,” she said.

While Bir sometimes goes alone on her excursions, her husband often accompanies her. But even having a partner doesn’t guarantee safety.

In Fredricksburg, Virginia, the couple visited an abandoned renaissance fairgrounds. Bir said she noticed fresh footprints in the ground.

Eventually, the Birs heard the cracking of twigs around them and realized they were being followed. They made a “mad dash” for their car.

“We got to the front gates and at that point we noticed the posted signs that said the property was owned by a gun club,” Bir wrote on her website. “We quickly got in the car and fled. This is the first time of my life that instead of the hunter I felt like I was the prey. I am unsure of the intentions of whoever was following us, but it was one of the more intense experiences of my life.”

But Bir said she has never been hurt or threatened while taking photographs.

In Fayetteville, Bir said she was immediately intrigued by the now-empty Prince Charles Hotel downtown. She said she and a friend entered the Hay Street building through an open door.

Once inside, Bir said she realized they were not alone and that a quick exit might be in order.

“There were some other folks in there. I could hear them one floor above me,” she said. “I said, ‘I’ve got to go.’”

Bir spotted the Linden School on one of her photograph excursions and was immediately intrigued.

The school opened in 1924 and closed in 1972, when the Pine Forest schools opened.

The three-story structure was a landmark in the tiny town. With its towering columns out front, it looked as much like a county courthouse as a place of learning.

For a time, the Linden Ladies Auxiliary spearheaded efforts to save and renovate the old school. Those efforts took severe blows when the structure was extensively vandalized in 1998 and again in 2003.

Now, the building is in a state of extreme disrepair. Windows are broken, light fixtures sag from the ceilings and the floors are caving in in some areas.

But evidence of the building’s glory days are still evident. Elementary school books line the shelves in one room and on a blackboard, the words “I will not be late for class” are written over and over.

Bir wanders through the structure, photographing whatever catches her eye.

“Sometimes I like to focus on an object,” she said. “Like, I really like that pitcher over there, the way the light is hitting it.”

For about an hour, Bir and her husband wander through the school, careful to avoid the holes in the floor and the rat droppings littering the premises.

After snapping dozens of photos, Bir is ready to head back to Fayetteville. But not before checking out a railroad car parked next to the old school.

Regardless of how the pictures turn out, Bir rates the excursion a success.

“Sometimes it’s more about the adventure and the place than the actual photos,” she said. “It’s like a thrill, a curiosity.”