MIDWEST.
i was born in a small town in indiana. these photos are a tribute to the midwest i knew. hair in braids, sliding down the roof of the chicken house and jumping off, moments with my 6 siblings, the 7 of us, i was 7 when we left. the cornfields, the soybean fields, the churches, the rampant drug addictions, the signs everywhere that tell you you’re going to hell.
the loneliness. sprawling, expansive, choking. the architecture of america is loneliness, but never seen more than in the midwest. and in the midst of that loneliness, you’ll never see raw, gruff, gracious intimacy like in the midwest. like southern hospitality with no words. i remember always feeling alone and never being alone. a child obsessed with every bug and bleached into rich colours by the sun.
the sky was so big i remember always thinking it would fall on me. just like everything i love, i had a complicated relationship with nature. i remember standing, staring at the creek during a flash flood. i wasn’t afraid, just fascinated. my brother came and found me. i kept every interesting rock i found and begged my mother to use her film camera to photograph the vegetables i grew in the garden. i won prizes at the fair for my marigolds. whenever i feel a loss of identity, terrified that i don’t know who i am anymore, i remember these things about me that have remained constant. the earth from indiana grounds me.
what are you bound to? who ties you down? i think we often say or believe “i don’t owe anyone anything.” what do we owe to each other? we owe humanity. we live in a world that’s constantly trying to strip us of our humanity. the earth is our responsibility. human life is our responsibility. nothing more human than the creation of a home. the decision to make a barren place beautiful.
