THE OHIO BARN PROJECT "Preserving American history ... one old barn at a time."
In September, 2012, I was inspired to begin this project, which evolved over the years, ending with at least one painting of an old barn in each of Ohio's 88 counties. Though it involved a lot of traveling, both in sunshine, rain, and snow, the adventure helped me to meet many incredible people - not only "barn scouts" and barn owners but also historians, who devote their time and energy to preserving Americana. Ohio's old barns, once plentiful, have now outlived their usefulness and often aren't much more than nostalgic money pits. I will continue to capture them in paintings and essays as long as I can.
Click here for a Spectrum News video that explains this project and our vanishing landscape.
For years I asked myself, Why do I paint and write about these old barns? Good question. Recently a quote reminded me of the answer to this question. Portraits, a collection of the photography of Edward S. Curtis, a book I picked up randomly, displays some of the hundreds of thousands of photos of Native Americans that Curtis took, realizing that, at the end of the 19th century, their culture was becoming extinct. Most of his images are in the Library of Congress and the 20 volumes of his photos and his text remind us of the ways of the 80 tribes he documented. One quote caught my attention: “The passing of every old man or woman means the passing of some tradition, some knowledge of sacred rites possessed by no other … consequently the information that is to be gathered, for the benefit of future generations, respecting the mode of life of one of the great races of mankind, must be collected at once or the opportunity will be lost for all time.”
I realized that I, too, have a similar opportunity, one that catches the appearance and stories of the old barns, the money makers of the early Ohio pioneers, those self-sufficient families that not only survived but thrived during early 1800s through the Great Depression. Some of the 90-somethings I interviewed were not even aware that there was a depression.
But now the old barns are disappearing, vanishing pieces of our Ohio landscape. That's why I started this project and why I'll continue to paint the old barns as long as I can. If, 50-100 years from now, someone sees one of my paintings and reads the essay, he or she may re-live a piece of the past. And that's a good enough reason for me to continue on this quest.
The barn, the money maker of the farm. When settlers arrived in early Ohio, which was an expansive forest in the early 19th century, they'd first build a log cabin, clear a field for crops, and then build a barn. If they prospered, they'd upgrade to a brick farmhouse. But the barn was always the primary concern since it housed the livestock, bales of hay, grain, and other crops. Some were designed for grain threshing – two doors opened to allow the wind to thresh. Tobacco barns had tiny slits in the sides to allow the tobacco to cure. Barns kept wagons, harnesses, and other farm equipment safe and protected from the weather.
Many old barns, too expensive to restore, are falling apart and, with them, a bit of Ohio history also dies. Yes, it’s impossible to halt this in most cases, but perhaps my project can make a difference and, a hundred years from now, future generations can remember who paved the way for progress in our state. I'm happy that I've accomplished my goal of painting barns in 88 Ohio counties and I hope to continue this project for many years. I also enjoy helping nonprofits in fundraisers with my paintings. For listing of fundraisers, go to https://robertkroeger.com/events. To see prior years, click archive.
Click here for a Spectrum News video that explains this project and our vanishing landscape.
For years I asked myself, Why do I paint and write about these old barns? Good question. Recently a quote reminded me of the answer to this question. Portraits, a collection of the photography of Edward S. Curtis, a book I picked up randomly, displays some of the hundreds of thousands of photos of Native Americans that Curtis took, realizing that, at the end of the 19th century, their culture was becoming extinct. Most of his images are in the Library of Congress and the 20 volumes of his photos and his text remind us of the ways of the 80 tribes he documented. One quote caught my attention: “The passing of every old man or woman means the passing of some tradition, some knowledge of sacred rites possessed by no other … consequently the information that is to be gathered, for the benefit of future generations, respecting the mode of life of one of the great races of mankind, must be collected at once or the opportunity will be lost for all time.”
I realized that I, too, have a similar opportunity, one that catches the appearance and stories of the old barns, the money makers of the early Ohio pioneers, those self-sufficient families that not only survived but thrived during early 1800s through the Great Depression. Some of the 90-somethings I interviewed were not even aware that there was a depression.
But now the old barns are disappearing, vanishing pieces of our Ohio landscape. That's why I started this project and why I'll continue to paint the old barns as long as I can. If, 50-100 years from now, someone sees one of my paintings and reads the essay, he or she may re-live a piece of the past. And that's a good enough reason for me to continue on this quest.
The barn, the money maker of the farm. When settlers arrived in early Ohio, which was an expansive forest in the early 19th century, they'd first build a log cabin, clear a field for crops, and then build a barn. If they prospered, they'd upgrade to a brick farmhouse. But the barn was always the primary concern since it housed the livestock, bales of hay, grain, and other crops. Some were designed for grain threshing – two doors opened to allow the wind to thresh. Tobacco barns had tiny slits in the sides to allow the tobacco to cure. Barns kept wagons, harnesses, and other farm equipment safe and protected from the weather.
Many old barns, too expensive to restore, are falling apart and, with them, a bit of Ohio history also dies. Yes, it’s impossible to halt this in most cases, but perhaps my project can make a difference and, a hundred years from now, future generations can remember who paved the way for progress in our state. I'm happy that I've accomplished my goal of painting barns in 88 Ohio counties and I hope to continue this project for many years. I also enjoy helping nonprofits in fundraisers with my paintings. For listing of fundraisers, go to https://robertkroeger.com/events. To see prior years, click archive.
THE ROUND BARN PROJECT
I began this project on doing paintings and essays on round barns throughout the country in the early part of 2020 – with the idea that it would be a multi-year project. And, since most of these barns – the ones still standing – are located far from Cincinnati, I’ll be lucky if I can visit some of them. Everything takes time and even a barn tour in my home state can take four or five days. So, I’ll have to rely on resources such as local, county, and state historical societies as well as individual owners, if I can find them – a task not as easy as it sounds.
What I’ve discovered in the first six months of this project has been simply amazing. Even though some of the barns are gone, their stories are rich in American history – from several on the east coast, a few in the South, loads in the Midwest and West, and some even in remote Washington, Oregon, and California, far away from the agricultural belt of America, where round barns enjoyed their widest appeal. Barn shapes that qualify for my project are: the true circle, oblong (or donut-shaped), and polyhedral (most commonly the octagonal, but many have more than eight sides). Many have been listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Initially, I’ll select ones that have architectural appeal, a good composition, or compelling histories. Most of them were built from about 1880 through 1930, which is the time period where I'll focus my work.
Eventually I’ll post a timeline, detailing the evolution of this unique barn, which, then as now, consisted of less than one percent of all barns. Many are gone but some still exist in over 30 states. I’ll tell their stories, too. The paintings will eventually go into fundraisers for historical societies – either in Ohio or in other states. All will be framed in siding from old barns.
In the round barn section of this site, I'll add images and essays in various states as I complete them. Several subpages are needed since eventually some states will have many paintings.
What I’ve discovered in the first six months of this project has been simply amazing. Even though some of the barns are gone, their stories are rich in American history – from several on the east coast, a few in the South, loads in the Midwest and West, and some even in remote Washington, Oregon, and California, far away from the agricultural belt of America, where round barns enjoyed their widest appeal. Barn shapes that qualify for my project are: the true circle, oblong (or donut-shaped), and polyhedral (most commonly the octagonal, but many have more than eight sides). Many have been listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Initially, I’ll select ones that have architectural appeal, a good composition, or compelling histories. Most of them were built from about 1880 through 1930, which is the time period where I'll focus my work.
Eventually I’ll post a timeline, detailing the evolution of this unique barn, which, then as now, consisted of less than one percent of all barns. Many are gone but some still exist in over 30 states. I’ll tell their stories, too. The paintings will eventually go into fundraisers for historical societies – either in Ohio or in other states. All will be framed in siding from old barns.
In the round barn section of this site, I'll add images and essays in various states as I complete them. Several subpages are needed since eventually some states will have many paintings.