Public lands are places we inhabit, work, live and play, and they are threatened. Working on-site in a mobile research studio (MRS), “These Grand Places” uncovers complexities of the current geopolitical and environmental moment while illuminating the beauty of public lands. Photography-based and socially-informed, I seek to transcend simple conclusions by visually weaving together a narrative informed by occupants, users, and protectors. Are we loving our public lands to death? What do we return? Who is welcome?
This project is supported in part by The Grand Challenge Seed Grant from the University of Wisconsin-Madison School of Education, and the help of my collaborators: Omar Poler, American Indian Outreach; Giri Venkataramanan, College of Engineering; Adena Rissman, Forest and Wildlife Ecology; Targol Mesbah, Anthropology and Social Change, California Institute of Integral Studies.
27 March 2021
Outside Taos, New Mexico
The tall gate with anvil and fire breathing robotic sculptures act as the welcome committee for a nice landing at the home of friends and makers Christina and Christian. Looking into the Río Grande gorge on a late morning walk, a view one never tires of searching the cliffs for bighorn sheep, watching the hawks soar, and still wrapping one’s mind around the yawning crack in the land that a major river flows through. I’ve been coming here for 20 years, yet the chilly wind reminds me it is barely spring in the high desert. Still hope to take a full moon walk later. In the meantime, clean and repair the MRS, and a bit of editing.
20 March 2021
Sea of Cortez | Mar de Cortés
Thinking about balance, the coming of light and longer days, the blossom of spring. On a spontaneous turn, instead of heading north to the Ajo Mountains, I head south, seeking the clarity of the water and waves on the shores of the Sea of Cortes. It felt essential. I fold a cyanotype boat for an old friend I recently found out had perished in the desert, sending it on a tiny rivulet flowing to the sea. I fold a boat for the father of a friend, a daughter who adored and cherished her father…
18 March 2021
Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge, Arizona
In intense moments we often think of the most absurd things. This afternoon I am tucked inside with 33mph wind gusts shaking the MRS. The whistling and howling makes it hard to think, so I choose the simple task of cataloguing a pile of cyanotypes. I look at this one and am transported to a cloudless, dry day, barely a few weeks ago. At Cabeza Prieta, I haven’t seen a soul for miles, and the aptly named El Camino del Diablo grows narrower, more rutted and with deeper and deeper sand, the thorny branches of mesquite hemming me in on the sides. I think of the history of this road, and the many who have perished here over time…
17 March 2021
Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, Arizona
I start a cyanotype of rusty cans by an old mine, but the sun is about to dip behind the ridge and there’s not quite enough time to set up the 4x5 in this light. I wonder why I didn’t move the cans into a sunnier spot, but enjoy the moment nonetheless, thinking that it’s still a three mile walk back, I could’ve started earlier, or not been distracted back at the wash, but at the very least I got to try out the new daypack setup and decide how comfy (or not) it is...
12 March 2021
Tucson Mountains, Arizona
It’s a wrap! Added the final solar panel on the roof, the portable suitcase panel on the ground, and all wired up for the solar-powered MRS (mobile research studio). It all looks so pretty and blue, even the usage monitor, I feel like I’m on a boat! Now, to put back the bed, and everything else. The sun is setting behind clouds that promise rain as the wind picks up and the temperature drops. Better get my things inside! “These Grand Places” is a photography-based project on public land. Thank you to Scott Harris for electrician expertise, and for doing all the hard work, Giri Venkataramanan for the design, and for helping me understand a few things about electricity, and the UW Madison School of Education for supporting my work. Back on the road soon...
Been quite a day working on the MRS (mobile research studio) for These Grand Places. Most of it on the roof, thinking flexibly about some miscalculations. Scott Harris, at day’s end, is wiring the combiner box and says, “wouldn’t it be cool to have a drone photo?” I was too busy worrying about my caulking job that I forgot to document! He also said earlier, “This is the hardest job I’ve ever done”, and I had a good laugh since he doesn’t know me yet (the best/worst of luck, the easiest/most complicated of you name it). Happy Sunday! These Grand Places is a socially engaged photographic project about the concept of public land and how we use it, supported by UW-Madison School of Education. Solar design by UW-Madison College of Engineering.
13 February 2021
Sonoran Desert, Arizona
Happy Lunar New Year! Year of the Ox! I woke up yesterday at sunrise, the first day of the new year, and it felt like rain. I checked the forecast. No rain. On my way to one of my favorite places, Organ Pipe Cactus NM, a good place to start a new cycle, I could see the storm on the horizon (dash cam still from video, see tiny horizontal lightning), followed by a double rainbow, still raining while the sun is shining over the Tohono O’odham Nation, and finally, caught the moon setting just as I made camp off a dusty road, the smell of rain, creosote and the cleansed air lingering. The road to Quitobaquito Spring re-opened today, and tomorrow I will visit. The last time I was there it was not yet interrupted by the draining of the aquifer, nor bulldozing of earth, artifacts and sacred grounds to construct the new border wall. Bought three new books at the visitor center and renewed my annual National Park Annual Pass.
9 February 2021
Coronado National Forest , Arizona
Thank you to this beautiful, intense landscape of wild biodiversity, political divide, and violent undercurrent. Spent the last evening with impossible burgers and beers with photographer John Kurc, followed by listening to coyotes yip under a Milky Way of stars. Breaking camp and moving on. With gratitude for the time spent here and the unexpected conversations. My mind for now is empty, carried by the fierce desert wind. I hope when I return next, we are in reconciliation and restoration.
7 February 2021
Sonoran Desert, Arizona
There are three places to be in the MRS (mobile research studio). 1: the kitchen, where I’m having Sunday brunch, 2. the bedroom, which is about 7” away from where I’m dining, and where Cub is sitting on the “home office desk”, and 3: the studio, where I’ve mixed the tiniest amount of cyanotype to coat paper to fold three memorial boats when I get up into the mountains just a step north of the border. 4: what camp looks like at midday.
4 February 2021
Sonoran Desert, Arizona
Overdue shout out to John Kurc who’s tirelessly documenting the new border wall. He’s been a generous guide and an informative companion; letting me tag along on some of his pursuits. Finally made it out to Guadelupe Canyon, where the dynamiting of the landscape, bulldozing of river beds and nearly complete obstruction of the jaguar migratory path is palpable. Here are a few snapshots: looking east, then west, John in the frame for scale. 3: from the windy view at the Arizona-New Mexico border in the Peloncillo Mountains. 4: a creek up high in the hills beckons...I dream of a meander and a peaceful day at camp, but first, back to the work!
Follow John Kurc Sole Witness, @followthejohn
29 January 2021
Coronado National Forest, Arizona
Two ravens ride the wind back and forth across the US-México border. The gusts are blowing at 25 knots and are increasing. I pull out my phone for a quick picture, when a message comes from a dear friend . They had to put their beloved dog down, and I imagine the ravens ushering Sprocket to doggie heaven. Despite my new toys, I can’t help but bringing out the 4x5 which can barely withstand the wind! Plus the light is almost good, but still flat. These Grand Places visits public lands as sites of human disruption, extraction, destruction and restoration. Every person I have encountered today has been kind.
29 January 2021
Coronado National Forest, Arizona
The “end of the road”, where the bulldozer stopped pushing the immense pile of gravel to build the road to build the new wall of the international border. On the US side, piles of the old barricade lay like rusty skeletons. The road is wild (image 2), the colors change with the geologic makeup like a layer cake and the road a wide undulating ribbon across the terrain. I have the sense of being on a rollercoaster, going straight up the steep grade, seeing only the blue sky beyond the once shiny hood of the truck. (Am I ever grateful for the 4WD rental from the UW fleet that has carried me miles.) Image 3 appears to be where the building has halted for now. Ended the day with a bag of salty potato chips and a Tecate, contemplating politics and landscape while nursing windburn, sunburn and probably light dehydration. This morning I sip Bisbee Coffee Roasters and watch the sun rise, listen to the woodpeckers, the redwing blackbirds and all the others I can’t identify, thinking about a studio day to edit images, perhaps a walk down Sonoita Creek, a protected conservation area of a rare year round water source just a mile from camp from which this reservoir, Patagonia Lake, is created , and at least walk up the hill with my hand in the air to post this. Last night I began a re-read of an essay about Fort Huachuca from Lauret Savoy’s “Migrating in a Bordered Land: memory, history, race and the American Landscape”.
26 January 2021
Coronado National Forest, Arizona
Turn off at day’s end, haven’t seen another soul in miles. Heading towards camp, and posting with the last sliver of signal. Snow in Arizona.
2 December 2020
Madison, Wisconsin
I’ve lived and worked in campers so many times (the sixth time I believe?) but this is by FAR the shiniest one ever! Plus over 10’ of the 19’ is the studio!!! There have been so many changes to accommodate the strange year that I’ve lost track, and I am behind schedule for the idea that loosely began in the dawn of 2017 and emotionally committed to in December 2017 when Bears Ears was the first national monument to be reduced and deregulated. 1: the MRS on the street with the driver assessing the situation, 2: after shoveling snow out of the way, he makes the turn, 3: success! (PS will re-work the logos soon!) Thank you to Hardy the driver (and horse trainer and falconer), Dean at Station Park Honda for being so awesome to work with, gratitude to UW Madison School of Education Grand Challenge Seed Grant for helping me with materials, equipment, collaborator support and many needs along the way, UW Art Department for research support, and providing an incredible place to be an artist and educator. I’ll post more soon, now it’s time for dinner!