The Beauty and the Destruction
Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone ~Joni Mitchell
The Beauty and the Destruction
It all started with destruction. Our collaboration that is.
If you haven’t had time to listen to our artist talk, you may wonder what led to our collaboration. Well, it all started with destruction. This is Vera and I’ll share the story with you. Once upon a time, and not that far away…
I often drove past a row of ten similar looking brush piles along the side of the highway north of Fort Qu’Appelle - the remains of a hedgerow that had been destroyed. While my husband lamented the loss of homes for all the little animals that sheltered there, I thought about photographing them. To be honest though, I didn’t really get the significance of them at the time.
I love “typologies'' - the idea of images sharing so many similar characteristics but as you study them you see the differences. In their mundane way, typologies seem to have a calming effect but are thought provoking at the same time. Things aren’t always as they seem. The more we take the time to be with a typology, the more we think, learn or question. I didn’t forget the piles of brush. It felt like I had an itch that needed to be scratched.
When I did return, I pulled out my camera with the intention to photograph each one as if I was making a portrait. I remember standing there studying them, watching the birds fly in and out amongst the dead branches. So peaceful and so sad at the same time.
Looking back now I think of the Mary Oliver quote, “If you notice anything, it leads you to notice more and more.” I started to see these piles of brush all over the fields. I learned that while clearing brush has always been a part of farming, it is now happening at an increasingly scary rate.
Sue shared her concern for the wild remnants of land around her home pointing out that the family farms we reminisce about are being bought up by larger farms and often, by corporations. More and more land is being cleared and drained of anything that gets in the way of growing a crop. As farming changes, so is the impact on the land itself.
I eventually shared the photos with Sue suggesting we collaborate on something surrounding the destruction of hedgerows. She proposed going beyond hedgerows, to include the wetlands, the aspen bluffs, native prairie, and all the wild remnants of land that are all being bulldozed and removed, and to maybe even think about the near decimation of the buffalo.
We’ve had so many conversations trying to clarify what we are doing. Just this week Sue reminded me of the line from Joni Mitchell’s song:
Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone ~ Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell
We’ve both agreed that while we want to acknowledge the destruction, we especially want to focus on the beauty of these often overlooked places and how we can develop a deeper relationship with the land.
As we share our journey with others perhaps more and more people will wonder about how they can develop or strengthen their own caring relationship with land. That’s our hope, or one of our hopes! Please join our conversation by sharing your stories about a caring relationship with the land. We’d love to hear from you.
or share with a friend
I think many of us can name a time (or times) when we have felt, and still feel, profound grief about the destruction of a particular place that we have come to love. So true that we often have no idea this change is coming! Especially when we have "befriended a place", as you did Marg. I agree with you about the importance of speaking out, of truly grieving and lamenting this loss - and of figuring out what each of us might do to care for this beautiful place we call home. Sharing stories like yours helps us all - thank you for your words. -Sue
I so appreciate and relate to this reflection. A few years ago miles and miles of creek bed that ran past our place was cleared out, apparently to improve the flow of water. It changed the entire landscape and created havoc for many forms of wildlife. And a beautiful spot to kyack down a winding creek nestled in trees where non-human creatures and I often met disappeared in the matter of weeks. I felt, and still feel much grief over this loss. We really don't know what we have until it's gone, and often are not aware of pending destruction like this before it takes place. However, we can still speak out in the midst of it, grieve, and commit to protecting and caring for the natural world through an understanding of reciprocity, other actions, and down to earth conversations like this.