At the beginning of this year, I was standing at the foot of the Canada Malting Silos and saw a flock of geese approaching from the southeast. They were flying from the water and heading straight for me. I’d been shooting with a monopod and there wasn’t time to unscrew it so I abandoned the idea of shooting the geese. But they kept approaching and, looking up, I realized they’d be passing directly over the silos. Maybe I’d be able to capture the geese in some relation with the top of the silos …
I pointed my camera straight up with the monopod sticking out in a vaguely phallic pose. The geese flew overhead. They were really moving! I tilted back and back and … I fell over. Sure, I looked like an idiot, but I got this photo which (I think) exemplifies one of my photographic aims.
I want to explore the intersection of the human and natural worlds. We humans are, I believe, at a pivotal moment in our relationship to the natural world. Since the rise of early modernism, we have defined ourselves out of nature. We have conceptualized ourselves as other and apart. We are master; it is subject. Maybe it’s time to reinsert ourselves into the world we left. Maybe it’s time to give up the master fantasy and to resume our place as humble participant. We may have no choice.
The silos are crumbling. There’s a fence around them, and signs warn of the danger. The geese continue overhead on their trek to the northwest. These silos could be here or not here. Either way, it would make no difference to the geese.