A photo study of atmosphere and presence. The iconic corn crib. White – with a solid presence on the landscape. It stands by itself – sometimes that last vestige of a place (farm).
A device for storing. Open – and breathing – yet sheltering. Independent. An unpretentious dot on the land – the crib holds its own against all the vast openness. I feel this way sometimes when I see a grove of trees – arranged for protection. Yet protecting only some memory I can only imagine.
I am not exactly sure why I am drawn to these structures that are sprinkled around our Midwestern landscape. I like the profound utility – the strength of these structures. Looking at them I feel as though I could go to one and be safe. Yet they are also – disappearing – no longer required. Perhaps that is why I notice them now. Why does one take care of this crib? It is so alone – yet crisp and freshly painted – like a billboard – I am here.
I feel differently about these cribs than I do about the various barns – many (of the barns) in a greater states of disrepair. Why this one and not that one. These structures are surrogates perhaps – standing in for the time when farming was different…
I am compelled to photography these structures. To take their portraits. Each one exhibits its character lines and forms and tells a story of this is what and who I am.