A Visual Archaeology From Eastern Kansas to the High Plains
The Holocene Era, scientists say, lasted about 12,000 years. They now say that we are in the Anthropocene: a world so radically affected by the presence and activities of human beings that this era must be named for humanity itself. This is our world - whether admiring it or deploring it, it is ours; we made it.
I see the interaction of Man and Nature across the central plains of the United States dialectically: a conversation across centuries, emblematic of global historic processes, going back to the first arrival of Europeans in the 16th century - and up to the present day, when Kansans (and everyone everywhere) have been thrust into an unknowable and foreboding future.
I look at the land that is my home, and with increasing frequency see "improvements" that are detractions... "additions" that are removals... "development" that is destruction. The conversation has turned ugly.
It is considered impolite to speak of these conditions, an insult to the endeavors of our forebears, fellow citizens, neighbors, even a kind of self-loathing. Meanwhile, the water in our rivers and streams is toxic.
We have an abundance of dazzling amusements; the spectacle of popular culture, professionalized athletics, technological novelties, jets, jet-skis, all-terrain vehicles, fast food, highly sophisticated firearms, mind altering drugs, opulent religion. To be circumspect of this abundance is to be a killjoy.
R. Buckminster Fuller said, "You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete." Yet, our landfills are overflowing with obsolete models. The existing reality is one of accelerating innovation. Never were more things that aren't broken being fixed. There can be no technologically improved
replacement for a particular forest, wetland, watershed, topsoil or climate. The existing reality is consuming, destroying these things, upon which all life depends.
Is there a way out of this? If there is, the first step would be to clearly, fearlessly see what is being wrought. These photographs are my attempt to learn to do just that.
Philip Heying