Madison County photographer Sarah Jones Decker is capturing the wreckage in black and white.
Photo by Lauren Rutten
Hurricane Helene unleashed catastrophic devastation that will one day be etched into history books. And when those books are written, Sarah Jones Decker’s hauntingly beautiful photography will stand as the visual record.
An artist-turned-farmer, Decker is best known for her stunning snapshots of asparagus shoots and wild raspberries. She has also published a photo book of backcountry shelters, lean-tos, and huts along the Appalachian Trail. But her creative work took a more contemplative turn when the storm thundered into Marshall.
“As a documentary photographer, I wanted to be everywhere,” Decker writes. But, she laments, “Every day, the images I wanted to take changed so fast as the steady stream of dump trucks and tractors hauled millions of pounds of our lives away to the landfill.”
Determined to find her creative voice in the chaos, Decker turned to tintype photography. This historic technique involves creating images on thin sheets of metal coated with light-sensitive emulsion. When patented in 1856, tintype emerged as an affordable alternative to other forms of photography, making portraiture accessible to most.
“These solemn images became the first real opportunity for the working class to afford photography,” says Decker, noting this was “something that historically was out of their financial reach.”
Inspired by the storm’s magnitude, Decker made a mobile darkroom in the back of her Subaru. She then drove around Marshall taking black-and-white photographs of “artists, musicians, makers, dreamers, and workers.”
As the developing chemicals slowly worked their magic, Decker’s subjects would share stories of loss, survival, and hope. There was the painter shoveling literal tons of mud out of his studio, the local builder serving hot meals, and the shop owner who had watched his whole world float down the French Broad River.
According to Decker, each photograph captures more than just a moment in time — it captures the human spirit rising from the wreckage.
“The 24-hour news cycle has moved on,” she shares. “The dust has mostly settled. The crowds are gone, but we are still here. And that’s who I wanted to photograph. The spaces that held us. The spaces we hold. The places we gathered. And will again.”
Sarah Jones Decker, Madison County. To learn more, visit sarahjonesdecker.com or find Decker on Instagram @paintcreektintypes.