I grew up in Dixie, Louisiana which is mostly made up of farmland. My family comes from a generation of farmers, so I have watched the transformation of a crop from plowing to planting to fertilizing to picking. The farm land are simply defined my the first image. This is an abstract of what you would see driving down a country road. You can clearly tell the difference between a natural landscape and a organized landscape for a farm. The boundaries are evident by the level of maintenance.
This is a picture of a module. Cotton picking has transformed from hand picking, to taken to the gin, and is now sent off on 18 wheelers. Its interesting to compare the two images (module vs cotton field) of the same material...what use to be in an organic plant form, is now compacted into a large man made rectangle. The module ruined my tactile experiences with my dad's cotton picking. He no longer took the cotton in a trailer to the gin. Now, the module, a large machine with a compressing bar, is more efficient. It simply compacts the cotton into large masses of low
quantity; making less trips which
equals lower cost.
for plowing located in the horse pasture behind my grandfathers house. I find these images interesting, because they narrarate the current absense of farming in my family. My dad and his brothers have all stepped down from farming and have found alternative occupations of less risks. Nature begins to unfold the story by the growing over/ healing of the past. The past memories are both in celebration and struggle. There are a lot of old artifacts in Dixie that have grown more value because of their age and weathering in the country climate. I think these things become
more meaninful and rich in their historic
memory through natural decay, rust, or
I enjoy the opposition of man made vs nature in these images. The hard, rusted man made steel machinery, in contrast to natural grassy weeds. Nature has taken its course and grown into the voids, becoming a part of this equipment. Some of our farming equipment is completely surrounding by overgrowth that it's presence is only revealed through a slight glimpse of it's vibrant rusted color. I associate most of my childhood memories with findings of these old artifacts in our pasture because it was adventurous. I believed these found object's weathering and age made them more valuable. I was always curious about the story behind some of the objects I would find, either barried in the grass, dug up from the dirt, or underneath old rusted metal scraps. I would always go ask my grandfather about them, and after he told me what it was, he would always have a story to go with along.
This image a traditional playhouse you would buy from Walmart. It is made of cheap materials, giving it a fake appearance for the desired 'perfect playhouse'. It is acceptional for a suburban backyard where the yards are well groomed. Most backyard play equipment in suburban neighborhoods are expected to be well maintained with respect to the neighbors.
Here is an image of the playhouse I grew up playing in. My father built it for me all hand crafted out of wood. This playhouse differs from the store bought because of their appearance and landscape surroundings. It was acceptable for my playhouse to be overtaken by nature because of the rural setting. There were no neighboors to impress. It's organic appearance allowed me to feel more comfortable being barefoot and dirty. Plus, it made my playhouse more unique and fun compared to others. When I would go over to my friend's house, some of their playhouses were indoors; so it had a completely different play environment. The difference between my play equipment in comparison to theirs is very interesting. Any play equipment they had whether indoors or outdoors, looked seemingly untouched. It was well cleaned and maintained. Most of my plastic little tikes playgrounds had molded brown spots from weathering and dried up dirt all over it. It fit my playing habits. I enjoyed the freedom of getting dirty and running around barefoot.