Jumping Fences

I am a ghost in a strange land.

The places and people who gave me form and direction are gone, changed, or forgotten.  I am without tether. The world falls away at me feet. I can see only glimpses of what once was in what is now. I hunt for those places of my formation. I find only small comfort in places of facsimile like a waking dream.

As a boy I walked the land. I jumped the fences and explored the secret places on the fringes of my world. I discovered the stories of the land, the stories of the places built by sweat and toil. The places that carried the weight of their importance shared themselves with me. These were places built on dreams and hopes. These were communities that shared their mutual burdens.

These places are gone now. These people, their lives, and stories are forgotten. Like the changing of the season, these places are turned under the plow. They are returned to the earth. Progress will grow here now and nothing of the old world will be left to reap.

These images are a reflection of my past. It is created using a blend of old and new processes. These spaces are familiar but new. These are places I found in my travels that are facsimiles to those places in my memory that are gone now.  Many of the places in these images are gone now as well. This world was overlooked and now it is forgotten. Only the images remain.

I am a ghost in a strange land.