The Most Photographed Barn in America

The model is a 3D print of a digital model made using photographs of The Most Photographed Barn in America. A set of 347  photos found on the internet were processed using photogrammetry software that is able to create a 3D form by extrapolating data from  2D images.

 The resulting model shows not only what the software ‘knows’ from the information it was fed  but also reveals the gaps and glitches that are part of the process. 

It continues Jacob’s interest in the idea of architecture as a form of representation. In this case drawing on the self declared significance of an otherwise unremarkable barn as the subject of photos. It is a model of the patchy, touristic photographic record of the barn not the architectural form of the T.A. Moulton Barn in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

The project explores a passage of text in Don Delillo’s novel White Noise:

“We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides — pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book.

“No one sees the barn,” he said finally.

A long silence followed.

“Once you’ve seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn.”

He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others.

We’re not here to capture an image, we’re here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies.”

There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides.

“Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We’ve agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism.”

Another silence ensued.

“They are taking pictures of taking pictures,” he said.”