This barn sits just south of Meridian, Idaho, on a rural road that was completely out of town for over a century. It’s currently being hemmed in on three sides by boxy new homes. I’ve driven past it for many years, thinking its beautiful lines and profound height would make a wonderful photographic subject. I finally took the opportunity in 2025. I wanted to document it before it succumbed to the mighty, ceaseless hands of land developers.

I refuse to photograph on private property without permission. Since there’s a farmhouse right next to the barn, I pulled into the driveway and knocked on the door. The occupant identified himself as Richard. He agreed to let me photograph the barn while chewing on a greasy chicken leg.

“Sure, go ahead,” he said.

I worked for about half an hour, taking photos of every side. Then I saw someone speeding toward me on an ATV. As the rider drew close, I saw it was an older gentleman with a sour look on his face. He thundered up to me and demanded to know if I had permission to take pictures of the barn.

“Yes,” I said. “Richard said I could.” I pointed toward the house.

The old man replied, “That’s not Richard’s barn—it’s mine!”

I was confused and curious. “It’s not?”

“No. He’s got nothing to do with it. He’s just a renter.”

I then asked if he wouldn’t mind if I took photos of his barn. He grumbled, “I guess.”

Using Richard’s logic, anyone can give anyone permission to do anything.