Back To: The Tyranny of Materiality
My mother's farm, "Wasted Acres," where I grew up . . . my horse is having fun in the field . . . the house would be directly behind the photographer . . . we actually lived in a house down the road, this was my grandmother's place at the time . . . I remember skinny dipping in this pond . . . my step-father and his buddy Jack "made" this pond with a buldozer? I moved out when I was fourteen . . . there were so many reasons, or so it felt at the time, looking back now I see complexity entangled with complexity with complexity encompassing complexity with various complexity sprinkled around complicating the overall complexity . . .
This perspective is from way up on the hill . . . there's the house and the barn . . . I miss tromping through the woods: I really miss the fresh smell and the feeling of exploration . . . as I just told Allison: I don't remember ever seeing a tick back then / there . . .
The house would be a ways behind the photographer . .
. there are trees now where the field was . . . notice the dirt road .
. . it's still unpaved . . . my Grandfather is holding my Mother . . .
This is the way the road looked on Thanksgiving day 2006
right at sunset ...
This photo was taken from the perspective of the house I grew up in . . . my Grandmother's [Mom's Mom] house in the picture burned to the ground when I was a kid . . . I remember the flames and glow up on the hill . . . a car slowed down and I yelled out take a picture it'll last longer . . . my Grandfather [Dad's Dad] was there and was severely burned . . . he died shortly after . . . I was nine . . .
