In the realm of flowers. Greenhouses in Tenerife
For most, a forgotten place, for me a fascinating story
Abandoned places are mysterious, painfully sad, and fascinating all at once. The moment you approach, a hundred versions of stories begin to play out in your mind, where people and their fates intersect. Images rise to the surface, and every now and then pieces of the puzzle fall into place, revealing an ordinary morning or just a few fleeting moments that once occurred there. Forgotten and carelessly left-behind objects—a slightly open window, clothes hanging on a door—hint at the lives that once moved through the space. Each place sparks the imagination, inviting endless speculation.
I am drawn to the energy and stories of such places. Through photography, I try to connect with the time when life once pulsed in every corner. While exploring Tenerife, I discovered a corner worth capturing.
The old, abandoned greenhouses stand right by the road, along a route few ever take. You might even spot a lizard basking on a stone, lazily slipping away at the sound of a passing car. The journey took me two hours along roads designed like a punishment for motorists: winding serpentines, narrow streets through tiny villages, steep climbs, and then more of the same. I felt the adrenaline in my temples and occasionally wished I were lying on a beach instead. Locals and their livestock watched me with curiosity, but I pressed on, eager for the impressive urbex experience awaiting at the end—possibly the best I’ve ever had.
Home of natural beauty
The exhausting drive brought me to the old greenhouses—abandoned, dilapidated, and largely overgrown with wild shrubs and trees. Where is the scent of flowers that once filled the space to the ceiling? Where is the abundance of fresh vegetables that were shipped to the local markets every morning? Why is there no longer the small, refreshing fruit that once traveled across Europe? Everything now stands as a quiet, painful reminder of a radiant past—a time when the greenhouses served the people well, only to be left to their own fate afterward. The wind rushes through broken windows, rustling and moaning. Plants aggressively overtake the structures, and the greenhouses grow according to their own rules. The wild shrubs, in contrast with the abandoned buildings, create a scene that is melancholic yet strikingly beautiful.
I stood there just before sunset, feeling the place fill me with inspiration. The long shadows of the greenhouses, the soft light, and the surrounding silence created an atmosphere made for photography. I imagined models walking among the decaying structures, light playing across their faces, and the overall contrast between the crumbling industrial buildings and natural beauty. I still regret not having a model with me that day, but I know I will return.
Nature once served humanity, now it reclaims dominion
The island paradise of Tenerife once again reminded me that one must look further and deeper than just the crumbling ruins. To pause and take in the surroundings. To move slowly and quietly through places no one wants to visit anymore. That is when you discover a profound story and a strange kind of beauty. Urbex has always fascinated me precisely because it offers a glimpse into the past that ordinary eyes cannot see. Abandoned buildings and places like these coastal greenhouses layer time like tree rings. Within each layer lies history and emotion, a touch of despair, and a hint of hope.
For most, these places are invisible; for me, they are like a gallery where nature and time together create a new work of art. Every detail, every crack, every overgrown wall carries meaning. It’s not just about what once was, but about how the space transforms and what it tells us today.
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