I guess I'm an idiot. I certainly am no artist and my formal education was in Mathematics. I got a solid "C" in the one art class I did take...and that was a History class. I'm obviously not qualified to go flaunting some sort of Bullshit intellectual superiority...so, I must be an idiot because, I honestly really like this photo.
Here is a photo that, as presented, appears to be nothing more than an quick and dirty snap shot of the side yard of some ordinary suburbanite. Like mom used to take....but, mom didn't use an 8x10 Deardorff. She used a Kodak Instamatic that took pictures on 126 film. Mom didn't have any formal art training. Mom only read about Andy Warhol - she never worked with him. And mom certainly would never have taken a full year out of her life to travel cross country to make photographs of crap like this. Mom would have at least got Uncle Frank and Aunt Loise to stand in front of the big Lincoln with the kids!
I like the photo and most of Shore's later work. It reminds me of my own humanity. Grounds me in my insignificance. We tend to think so highly of ourselves. We live high and act with even more arrogance. In Uncommon Places Shore exposes American life as it really is. He yanks us off our high horse and rubbs our nose in the little stinky puddle we've made for ourselves.
The photo also reminds me that I am constantly surrunded by beauty. Often so subtle, it passes unnoticed. I must awaken my senses. Soften my heart, not be so callous and synical. Beauty surrounds us. We have become so numb to it that we can't find beauty in anything anymore unless it jumps up infront of us, bitch slaps us and blasts our eyeballs out of thier sockets with lurid, super saturated colors, perfect shapes and not so subtle sexual content.
All this negativity...saddens me.
It is the 3rd of June, 1976 - Fort Worth, Texas. It's not spring and yet not summer either. The freshness of spring has gone from the air. The oppressive heat of summer is hinted at by early afternoon. The kids are out of school. Our nation is already starting to celebrate its bi-centennial. The neighbors are gone on summer vacation and we're watching their house. None of us bother to lock our doors. There are power lines running through the yard, a peanut farmer in the white house and a hostage crisis that will change the course of politics in America and the middle east for years to come. We americans are still reeling from the "Energy Crisis" and our involvement in Vietnam. The neighbor's kid is home from college and parked his new, Japanese economy car on my side of the street. A house, a yard...a place to call home. More than even some Americans can hope for really. And yet, maybe this IS as good as it gets. Life can be like that.
Yawn. ...indeed.