Series: In Passing
Artist Statement
This series started with the simple act of photographing one roadside memorial, which had been erected after an accident
that took the lives of two young men on a road in the Nevada desert outside of Las Vegas. My decision to photograph this
memorial was a departure from my current creative landscape photography, as my landscape images did not include any
human elements. I did not realize the ensuing effects of this single act.
My initial reaction to this first roadside memorial was that of a documentary photographer, in the spirit of Walker Evans
during the 1930's. I saw the memorial as a kind of sculpture that was unique and in the basic genre of Folk Art. This
monument appeared to be made by non-artisans as a personal expression of grief, sorrow and celebration of the lives that
had tragically ended on this highway. This memorial was not even meant to be a work of Art, but a visual expression, as it
was not very sophisticated but had a raw presence.
As I began to be aware of other roadside memorials in this same region of the Nevada desert, I started to document them
as well. Each of these Folk Art memorials were very unique, reflecting the abilities and emotions of the person(s) who had
built and placed them out there. Their very presence had an emotional impact on me, especially in the context of the
Southwest landscape that I have been photographing. I latter realized that these roadside memorials are not usually
tolerated on the California Freeways, where I have spent the majority of my years driving, so these were relatively
unfamiliar to me.
As I continued to document these roadside memorials, I recalled an event that occurred to me as a young child while riding
with my father in the Arizona desert. I had commented on the three white crosses that I saw at a road intersection that we
had just passed. The ensuing discussion was about those crosses, which were placed there for the three people who had
been killed in accidents at that corner and that the State had put them there as a reminder to other drivers of the danger of
that intersection. The tragedy of what had occurred apparently left a strong memory.
I feel compiled to act, initially to just document these folk art memorials, as a vehicle for my own photographic development.
Later a more complex relationship began forming and developing between me as a photographer and the experiences I
was having. I also keep asking myself; why is it now that I see these roadside monuments and why now do I feel compelled
to interact with them? Perhaps they are a reminder of my own mortality or another way to connect with the loss of family
and friends.
These hand-made memorials are very individualistic and unique. They are no longer nondescript white crosses of my past
memories, but memorials and tributes, some very elaborate, some very plain, erected by those who are still here in memory
of those who have left. And like the memories that they represent, they have begun to decay and fade into the landscape.
Simon Denison in his introduction to his series and book Quarry Land, wrote about his experience with a similar landscape
in Great Britain that echo's my own sentiments; ..."each one of these marks on the landscape surviving a short while after
the people who made them have gone, but each one itself destined to be swept away in time."
Upon closer examination, many of these memorials have expressions of great sorrow and grief about the loss. And they are
expressions of love and are touching in the face of enormous unexpected tragedy. Some have no message at all but
stand as mute testimony. They have a complexity that is not apparent at sixty miles per hour. They need a longer look.
Although this project started a couple of years ago in the Southwest, I now continue to find these memorials as I travel
around the country. The series has grown in many ways, including the geographic scope.
And a final word by Simon Denison from his Quarry Land Introduction; "In mourning for our losses, for the inexorable
passage of time and the brevity of human life, we become more intensely aware of the wonder of human existence and its
fragility."
Douglas Stockdale
October 5, 2007
Simon Denison, Quarry Land, Impermanent Landscapes of the Clee Hills, published by Greyscale Books, 2005.