The Hastings Gallery

There once was a wanderer stubborn and bright,
Who kept passing signs that were clear as daylight.
A creak here, a crack there, a whisper, a clue
All saying, “Hey friend, this path isn’t for you.”
But you shrugged and you hustled, and sped up your pace,
Pretending those hints weren’t meant for your face.
’Til the signs grew so loud that you couldn’t pretend…
Hey buddy, these clues are for you, my good friend!

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Out here at the outpost, where the sign’s gone askew,
You squint and you wonder, “Is it pointing? At who?”
Is it warning or welcome or nothing at all?
Is it saying “Go forward” or “Turn back, y’all”?
But the letters are faded, the meaning long flown,
So you trust what you’re feeling — that whisper you own.
When the sign won’t say stay and it won’t say go slow,
That’s the universe nudging: Hey friend, time to go.

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In a place that’s forgotten, where things sag and things lean,
Where the windmill keeps spinning like it’s stuck in a dream,
And the fence posts are slumping in tired little rows,
You can feel in your bones what the landscape all knows.
What once felt like sepia: faded, unsure,
wants to burst into Technicolor, vivid and pure.
So you dust off your shoes as you step from that door…
Because Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.

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You pass an old building still punching the clock,
All creaky and cranky and the wind made it rock.
It wheezed and it groaned like, “I’m doing my best,”
Though clearly it needed a long, quiet rest.
It stood there billowing black smoke from its stacks,
While you eye the train out back on the tracks.
And that’s when it hits you — life’s bigger than this…
A whole world in motion that you don’t dare miss.

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You stop by a tower to dampen your thirst,
and ask, “What now — what’s second, what’s first?”
The tower stayed silent, all ancient and tall,
Like it knew every answer but wouldn’t answer at all.
It offered no roadmap, no prophecy spun,
Just the heat on your shoulders courtesy of the sun.
So you tighten your pack with a sigh and a grin,
If the tower won’t answer, then the answer’s within.

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You hear a soft buzzing that becomes a loud hum,
Sending signals and secrets that make your mind numb.
It crackles and cackles with news from the past,
Old visions and voices you once thought would last.
But one little whisper slips through all the noise:
“There’s more out beyond this, go claim your own joys.”
So you follow the signs you once tried to ignore…
Now trusting the guidance you’ve gotten before.

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At the edge of the homeland, where night meets the glow,
Stood a tower that murmured of places to go.
The choices are endless, as vast as all space,
But to stay put is pointless and loses this race.
Not a hint, not a nudge, but a call from the skies,
A message that opened the world to your eyes.
So you breathe in the stardust that drifts from its core,
A cosmic reminder: life’s yours to explore.

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This whole series started as a simple Midwest memory — just me pulling old structures from my past and seeing what they still had to say. But the moment I began working with them, I realized the images were far more universal than I ever gave myself credit for. Each piece begins as a photograph and then gets translated into digital art, becoming something mythic, symbolic, and bigger than its origin story. If one or all of these speaks to you, you can find the full collection at  

 TheHastingsGallery.com/midwest-memory.