Christopher Ewing sits on his bed listening to German Gothic Metal with his seven year old chihuahua, Chipper, in his mobile home in Albany, Ohio. Behind Ewing, laid up against the wall, is a painting, named Prozac, he completed while in school, and also in solitary confinement at a mental hospital. During his confinement he pleaded with the doctors to take him off prozac, because it was, "making him violent."
Early mornings are normal for Ewing, because he works as a caretaker part time for people with disabilities at Havar Incorporated, a non profit organization dedicated to "connecting people with and without disabilities in supportive and inclusive communities."
Covered in dust, the fan in Christopher Ewing's mobile home is a symbol of the rest of his living arrangement, largely left in disrepair. Ewing owns his own mobile home, but has trouble keeping up with it. Chores like, mowing the lawn or dusting often go undone, because after grappling with compulsions, like looking for hexes, Ewing feels overwhelmed.
Christopher Ewing rummages through his back shed, in Albany, Ohio, looking for hexes that will protect him from Virgil, the man who enslaved him in Pennsylvania Dutch country from the time he was 18 until he was 19. Ewing paid a witch to put a hex on Virgil, which allowed Ewing to escape. "His clothes were ripped and he had blood on his forehead," Ewing says as he remembers the day he won his freedom. "He tried to jump me when I was coming out of the beer garden, so I took off."
Christopher Ewing, 57, of Albany, Ohio, holds up a picture of his favorite 1986 Monte Carlo he named "Star" inside of his mobile home in Albany, Ohio. "It was real great until it started talking to me," remarks Ewing, a man who lives with schizophrenia, adding that he found out at the age of 24 that he had schizophrenia when the car didn't stop talking.
Christopher Ewing rooms with another man named Scott Houk, who declined to be photographed. Houk defined himself as a paranoid schizophrenic, often asking if I had been able to see into his room from the outside of the mobile home.
Christopher Ewing, leafs through an antique toy catalogue from 1965, with his trusted seven year old chihuahua, Chipper, inside his mobile home in Albany, Ohio. "It had every toy that every kid would want, so that catalogue is some 50 years old," remarks Ewing. Structure and consistency help Ewing reduce his stress caused by the changing world around him. When he was first admitted into a mental hospital he commented, "I didn’t think of it as me being locked in, I thought of it as the world being locked out."
Inside Christopher Ewing’s mobile home the walls and decorum blend between Catholic religiosity, Pennsylvania Dutch folk art, a blend of antique furnishings and general plethora of spiritual cultural items. Here we see a picture of Jesus juxtaposed against an Indigenous American folk representation.
Christopher Ewing recites prayers with his rosary, as part of his private practice inside his mobile home in Albany, Ohio. When Ewing was an undergraduate at Ohio University, studying art, he took a trip to the Vatican, and was so overcome with the spectacle of the Catholic Church that he decided to join. Ewing recites prayers during the day and at night, and he says religious practices like these help him to manage his schizophrenia along with his medication.
Christopher Ewing, picks up the mail, consisting of bills he is unsure he will be able to pay. "They always send me this letter on a Sunday," says Ewing who is afraid he may have his possessions, his home, and his car taken away from him.
A photograph of Corey Stephens, when he was 18, hangs in the corner of Christopher Ewing's mobile home in Albany, Ohio. Ewing considers Stephens to be his soulmate after meeting Stephens at The Gathering Place in 2005. "I met him when he was six in 1993," says Ewing, "I spent years looking for him, but he wasn't born yet." When Stephens turned 18 Ewing initiated their relationship, and Stephens comes and goes as he pleases. Currently, Ewing believes Stephens to be in jail in Virginia.
After an hour of looking through old items in his shed for a protective hex against Virgil, Christopher Ewing developed a nasty and persistent cough that caused him to take a moment to clean out his sinuses with a vaporizer in his kitchen in Albany, Ohio. "It’s round and has like a star in the center," says Ewing as he describes the hex, and then points to the one above his microwave.
Christopher Ewing collects reusable grocery bags, so he can load the maximum amoutn of groceries for himself and Scott Houk for the rest of the week. When traveling outside of his home, Ewing has a clear idea of everything he needs to accomplish, and is purposeful in everything he does, so he does not overextend himself.
The Gathering Place, a community center for homeless, mentally ill, and people with any other sort of disability, physical or otherwise, is a second home for Ewing, because they have accepted him for who he is.
Christopher Ewing, sits on his couch listening to psychedelic vinyl records on his turntable, while Scott Houk confines himself to his room playing first person shooters and drinking. Turntables and music have a special place for Ewing, he has multiple antique turntables, the oldest from 1928. Music from the 70's holds an especially important place for Ewing, but Houk says he, "doesn't like music anymore."
