03.24.2019
Yesterday, I developed negatives for another roadside memorial. The site was marked with a white bicycle and was a welcome visual break from the ubiquitous cross. The solemnity of purpose was the same. It gathered the same flags, flowers and missives from friends and family. And they wear on you. One feels the loss. I am distantly reminded of a Richard Brautigan poem, “Trout Fishing on the Bevel.”
The interest in roadside memorials evolved slowly, at first. One usually passes an occasional vase of flowers or cross along the backroads of San Diego. Lately, I’ve observed an increase in maintained memorials. Ignoring, for the moment, the dreadful genesis of the memorials, these surprise expressions of American Folk and Border art, alongside otherwise desolate desert roads, are somewhat exhilarating. With the right eyes, they have a grandness, a sculptural quality.
I seek to capture these sites with silver nitrate and ferric salt. In October, prints of these memorials will display side-by-side, bridging the miles between them and challenging the viewer to contemplate the miles between us.
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