“You can’t see the forest for the trees.” This is an appropriate adage when considering modern sustainability issues. The topic is so vast and there are a plethora of subtopics enjoined, that it can be difficult to connect to on a personal level. When deliberating human beings’ connection to the environment, however, the proverb is more meaningful if flipped to read, “You can’t see the trees for the forest.” In our fast-paced, technologically advanced world, our brains file specific items into broader, simplified categories in order to process the information more quickly. This means that we literally see the forest, and not the trees, unless we consciously force ourselves to break down scenery into individual items. This unintentional oversight makes it difficult to consider individual lifeforms as meaningful.
This series uses haunting, lonely imagery that isolates natural elements, in intimate portraits, dissecting the enormity of scenery into smaller, significant parts. It engages with the cultural significance of how the natural environment is perceived and consumed, as well as the differing roles humans assume in this relationship, either with intention or by default of action. This series captures the dichotomy of careful stewardship of the earth and the unsupportable consumption of natural resources within the same ecosystems. The careful tending of mesquite trees in a drought-stricken environment, in which rings were dug around the trees to collect rainwater, is compared to rows of feeble cotton plants, grown in an unsuitable climate, just possible through the extreme expenditure of natural resources. The photographs encourage the viewer to build a relationship with the environment by providing an alternate reality in which objects and landscapes are familiar enough to connect to, yet sufficiently removed from experience to instigate questions of where the scene exists and whether it should exist at all. This series is an incomplete story of life, for which humanity will eventually write an ending.
