my brother's house

Kansas. A long while ago.

my first science fiction novel doesn't seem to be fiction at all

"Who could say where town or wilderness began? Who could say which owned what and what owned which? There was always and forever that indefinable place where the two struggled and one of them won for a season to possess a certain avenue, a dell, a glen, a tree, a bush. The thin lapping of the great continental sea of grass and flower, starting far out in lonely farm country, moved inward with the thrust of seasons. Each night the wilderness, the meadows, the far country flowed down-creek through the ravine and welled up in town with a smell of grass and water, and the town was disinhabited and dead and gone back to earth. And each morning a little more ravine edged up into town, threatening to swamp garages like leaking rowboats, devour ancient cars which had been left to the flaking mercies of rain and therefore rust...."

Marjorie on The Farm circa 2009

"...The ravine was indeed the place where you came to look at the two things of life, the ways of man and the ways of the natural world. The town was, after all, only a large ship filled with constantly moving survivors, bailing out the grass, chipping away the rust. Now and again a lifeboat, a shanty, kin to the mother ship, lost out to the quiet storm of seasons, sank down in silent waves of termite and ant into the swallowing ravine to feel the flicker of grasshoppers rattling like dry paper in hot weeds, become soundproofed with spider dust and finally, in an avalanche of shingle and tar, collapse like kindling shrines into a bonfire, which thunderstorms ignited with blue lightning, while flash-photographing the triumph of the wilderness."
-Ray Bradbury Dandelion Wine

More from The Farm (2009) HERE.

olds.

 

It's been a long time so, I thought I would post something.
Found in my grandfather's photograph box.
The river over flows.

from my recollection. 2000-2010

My father grew up on a family farm in rural Kansas. When he was in high school, they sold the house and land in order to moved into town. When I was a kid, some 25 years later, we would often go on drives with my grandparents and always, somehow, ended up there. At that point, it had been abandoned for years. Most of the land sat unattended and the house became dilapidated. The most recent owner attempted many times during my teen years to burn it down in order to claim insurance money. However, when you are located on top of a hill in the middle of the prairie, just a few miles outside a small town of only 400 some people, fires are detected fast. 

In 2010 he succeeded. This is what's left.

When I was 12, the property inspired me to pick up my first real camera. For years, through jr high, high school, my first art classes, and later my entire art school undergraduate degree, I continued to document our occasional outings there.

 

Shortly after the fire in 2010, my grandmother, father, and myself returned to the farm on the hill. The walk, the people, and the stories were the same. The land was not. The embers were still hot.

I scooped remnants of the land, house, and in result, its history into a bucket, took it home, and dispersed it into my grandmothers canning jars. These artifacts were then displayed across every Kansas City Art Institute mantel, an odd homely detail of the school which references the campus' past as prominent homes in a much younger Kansas City. The final pieces became like shrines. Reminders of time and transformation, the jars and their contents referenced both the land the jars held within and the land on which they were displayed, the midwest.

grandfathers

 

one. two. two little indians.

Just some cyanotype rif-raf from 2009 that I would love to return to if I could just find the time!

This was a test I did for a quilt. The goal was to print this image of my grandmother and her brother on an old quilt. I got as far as the final print and then found it ruined by a bad batch of chemicals. Rats.

my collection of characters

So, I buy a lot of stuff at thrift stores....Some might consider it a problem...

Over the past year, I've purchased a lot of stuff, including a lot of photographs. Many of which, I don't necessarily plan to include in my artwork but instead hang on my walls, store away for later, or use for inspiration. Anyway, while doing some organizing today, I realized they were worth posting.
They are indeed a quite nice little collection of characters....

home.

I do still, sometimes, use an actual hand held, stereotypical, camera. 

some in betweens.

In between the shots.

i've gone home 2 weekends in a row now & i've come home with a bucket of dirt..

My dad. Telling stories as usual.