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I met Abby Banks and Tim Findlin in 2004 when they came to a house I was living at in Greensboro on a cross-country trip to take photographs that would later become the book PUNK HOUSE. The next year I hitchhiked aimlessly around the Northeastern corridor and by chance, ran into them again on the streets of New London, Connecticut where they happened to be on tour that evening, performing their self-described ‘country musical’, and were nice enough to give me a floor to sleep on and take me along with them for a couple of days. In punk, there is this anti-preservationist tendency to let things go undocumented; to let events live on only in the memories of the few that were present. The adage “you had to be there” enforces a generational elitism—it suggests, inevitably, that every time and place before this one is somehow more real or legitimate. The nostalgic defend their fiefdoms --no photos, no recording; no video could do justice to their very real experience. And this is not to say that preservation is not problematic—it’s just as easy to fall down the YouTube rabbit hole, blinded by the flash of digital cameras, making sure all events are turned into consumable media, even as they’re still happening. In the case of PUNK HOUSE, documenting the temporary and incidental meant accidentally canonizing a group in history. PUNK HOUSE is a document of a time and place that no longer exists (a telling sign of punk rockery--four years later, 80% of the houses pictured in it have been moved out of or evicted). Abby’s photographs are a mirror for the aesthetic life within DIY, which has its own norms, styles, and fads like any other culture. But under America’s creeping sameness, paint splashed on walls, tape collections, and a penchant for the obsolete past takes on the apparition of a counterbalance to sterile, minimalist efficiency, and is somehow, to me, very reassuring.

How long did it take you to make this book?

I started working on it in 2004-- driving up the coast of California and taking photos in September of 2004. The book was published October 2007. I feel like I am still working on it in various ways. And this is 2008.

How did you go about getting a publisher?

I asked everyone I could, did research, and freaked out trying to figure out how to print 7,000 pictures living on Tim’s computer. I met Thurston Moore during that madness. We talked and I described my vision for the book and he agreed to try and help me. I spent a few months printing and making the book look exactly how I wanted it. In the end it was a 20 lb binder of photo's, writing and labels for every picture. I brought it down to New York, to the No Fun Fest, and handed off the work. We dropped it in Thurston’s trunk, and I was like 'listen, this is the only copy, I can’t make another one, I tapped out all my resources on this one' he was like ' don’t worry-- I’ll guard it with my life.' He brought it to an unnamed bad ass who happens to be an editor. She calls me in Brattleboro, really excited, and says ' Abby, I have your work in front of me, I love it. This is so good. I want to publish this.' It sounds romantic, but everything was painfully slow up to that moment.

Describe how you made this book and got it put out (from inception to execution)

I thought of doing this project in San Pedro, CA at my friend’s house, a 'punk' house. I was in love with someone and he really helped me get my shit together and plan out this trip with no end. We stole stuff and I saved money from my jobs and bought a truck & camera. He was mostly was like-'I don’t think you are really going to do this. If you don’t try to do what you feel like doing I will be really disappointed in you.' That also sounds romantic, and it was. It really worked. His influence and craziness in my life got me to try to take on a big project. Tim Findlin and myself drove across the country for like 3+ months. We met people and Tim would play his country songs at house shows and I would tell everyone I was trying to make a photo-documentary of punk houses for hopefully an eventual book, and photograph the people we met and places we stayed in and some we just visited. I wanted the project to be a solid book at the end. While I was photographing I thought about what it will mean in 10 years from that time. That directed a lot of my decisions. I wanted to document/preserve the stuff that moves and changes, but always happens again and is something I recognize is familiar.

Did it turn out the way you had envisioned it?

Yes, and some aspects turned out ways I never anticipated—such as the subtitle! They snuck that on the book- I saw it when I got my first copy in the mail! I was not happy about it. That was the biggest problem with the publisher, so compared to all the good stuff that happened-I can handle it.

How were you living while you were working on this book?

I mostly lived in my truck. I camped out on some couches. I was living in the boiler room of the restaurant I worked at washing dishes--for a year. I rented a room in an old barn house attic in Brattleboro after I met Thurston- I needed a place to print and concentrate on making the book.

What was Thurston Moore's interest in putting out a book about
punk houses?

He really liked my idea, my effort, enthusiasm, and my photos. He knows people who make books, and I wanted to make this a book. My mom wrote him an e-mail thanking him for helping me- she said he wrote back and told her I was 'a real artist'. That was nice.

What has the response been like?

Mixed. Everything from loving the book for all sorts of reasons to hating the book for various reasons. The hate wears me out, and the love can get weird!

From Kathleen Hannah's introduction it seems like many people
conceive of punk houses the way parents saw their college days--
"Ah, the smell of dirt and cigarette ash! Those were the glory days..."
Do you think living in a punk house is just a phase people go through and get over?

No. Kathleen wrote me an awesome inspired essay about a house she lived in. I received it to late to get it in the publication. I still want to publish it with some other stories from a bunch of friends.
I’ve met people who own their house, live with friends and that’s how its going to be for many more years. I know some people living in variations of houses like that right now loving, hating or dealing with it or a combo or all 3. And I have met a bunch of 'former punk house dwellers' after the book came out, telling me stories of living in similar places. Everyone from people in their 60's telling me old east village stories, to former cult members, to people who have a squat. The more people I talk to and meet the more I learn.

What has the response been like from the ‘punks’? How would
you respond to any of those punks criticism?

This was an art project about punks living in houses in America, made by someone who is a friend and interconnected to many punk circles for many years that made her dream come alive.
This is the perfect thing to be pissed off about!

What makes these houses in the book punk houses?

They were places I recognized as such and let me in or invited me over. Sometimes friends directed me to them and I’d say ' Joe Schmoe sent me-I’m making a book about punk houses, can I take pictures here' and the response would be 'Oh no. Are we really a punk house? Crap!'

What makes the people portrayed in the book punks?

I don’t know too many people who actually refer to themselves as punks directly. Punk is a loose word, it means a lot of different things to different people. Who’s right and who's wrong? Who knows. All the people I photographed were nice enough to let me and we had an interesting time together. Its just so variable and changing person to person, circle to circle.

I have a friend who recently moved into a really nice house with a couple of professional photographers. This house was about as far as you could get from a punk house--these people had aged out and had gotten real jobs. My friend however (although well into his 30's) had not. He said that PUNK HOUSE sat there on the glass coffee table, haunting him--its presence the cruel irony of his very "adult" living situation. Do you think your book is bringing the aesthetic concept of a punk house to people who only want to experience punk houses from a comfortable vantage point?

I want this book to be for anyone interested. It’s going to be in the hands of people who want to see this or live this.

Do you worry that you are accidentally setting up a new cool--a new sterilized aesthetic to be consumed and assimilated by people who are reading your book?

Hasn’t punk always been cool? I have this weird vision of kids running away from suburbia, moving into a squat, bleaching their hair, falling in love and dropping acid.

If we can agree that punks are on the cusp on fashion
(for example: the crusty chic that many high-end designers are rolling
out with. The fact that so many people on the street these days look like they could be figures in Cristy Road drawings)--How could punks create a shadow aesthetic that can’t be so easily bought and sold?

Nothing can ruin being original and creative. Everything moves and changes and comes back and leaves again.
Just wear what you want and have the best life you can possibly have and be happy.

What's your favorite song about punk houses?

'In This House That I Call Home' by X. maybe 'Landlords' by Pinhead Gunpowder.

Pick one: ‘Punks’--greatest minds of our generation
or anarchistic doomsday cult?

Both!