2018 – still in process
12 x 18 inches /// digital print with hand sewn paper, thread
A poster inspired by the devastating site I see each time I make a trip back to my home of Jewett, Ohio. The hills have been flattened and replaced with giant industrial drills. The roads are no longer a quiet pavement with few who pass by, but routes that carry hundreds of trucks dedicated to destroying the land on which we stand. No longer do we sit on my momma’s porch and listen to the sounds the wind carries quietly through the air. Instead we hear the loud engines roar by as they carry equipment, waste, water and all things fracking. The simple country has been disrupted by greed and the landscape now represents the visual language of that destructive hunger.
I rewrote “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” through the voice of the generation who speaks but isn’t heard. The thread as the chosen material for the well that creates the fissures, serves as a methaphor for how the human hand changes the earth on which it depends.
My Country ‘Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Fracking
My county ’tis of thee, sweet land of fracking,
Earth we shit on thee.
Land where my fathers died.
Now where their children cry.
For every mountain side,
Now coated and covered with drills.
My native country thee,
Land extracted for money,
No one is free.
I love they rocks and rills,
Now poisoned with chemicals,
My heart with ache it fills.
Like that above.
Let the tune of fracking swell the breeze,
As methane gas suffocates the trees.
Sweet freedom’s song.
Let mortal tongues protest awake;
Let rocks their silence break.
The song prolong.
Our father’s land to thee,
No longer author of liberty,
Hear our cries we sing.
Our land is now blighted,
With capitalism’s hungry tyrants;
Watch as we slowly pay the price,
Great America the King!