About a month ago, I went with a photographer friend of mine to her dads farm to take some pictures, get inspired. She noticed my intrigue with tangled things, vines, bramble, etc, and kept telling me about her dads crazy fence. She has been describing it to me for a while, and we finally decided to take the time to check it out. She spoke of her fathers attempts to keep the bulls in the pasture by constantly repairing the barbed wire around it. Every time a bull would get loose, he’d have to repair another section. The fascinating thing here, is that he never removed the old fencing, just added new. Because of this, there was at least 40 years of barbed wire , new and old intertwined , each piece telling the story of another days work. It was like looking at a physical manifestation of his autobiography. His story. One twisted piece of jagged rusty metal at a time.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Don't fence me in.
About a month ago, I went with a photographer friend of mine to her dads farm to take some pictures, get inspired. She noticed my intrigue with tangled things, vines, bramble, etc, and kept telling me about her dads crazy fence. She has been describing it to me for a while, and we finally decided to take the time to check it out. She spoke of her fathers attempts to keep the bulls in the pasture by constantly repairing the barbed wire around it. Every time a bull would get loose, he’d have to repair another section. The fascinating thing here, is that he never removed the old fencing, just added new. Because of this, there was at least 40 years of barbed wire , new and old intertwined , each piece telling the story of another days work. It was like looking at a physical manifestation of his autobiography. His story. One twisted piece of jagged rusty metal at a time.
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