Poetry Of The Land
“. . . For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
"They're ruining the land!" said my heartbroken Dad on seeing the now clear-cut woods he played in as a boy. Love of the natural world and concern for its protection was a legacy from my parents, and made a bittersweet lasting impression on me.
As an adult I was drawn to photograph the natural world, yet was haunted by troubling questions similar to the unasked questions when a loved one goes to war. "Will you be safe? Will you be maimed? Are we saying good-bye for the last time?"
Fair questions to ask of the land, because these places were already encroached by toxic developments such as factory-farming pollution, oil production, mining or manufacturing.
Would the poetry of the land stand the test of time outside of my photographs?