Living on the land is a daily personal relationship with nature that goes beyond environmental or recreational tourism. For many, this type of brief, albeit intense, exposure to a non-urban environment is the only remaining means of interpreting nature.
I really did choose the road less traveled thirty six years ago. And I can testify that ranching and raising a family in South Texas is no picnic at Enchanted Rock. It is not a walk down a discreetly graveled path in the “primitive” area of a state park. It is the long haul down an unpaved road; the drought, the flood and the isolation. It is taking the bitter with the better. Living on the land exposes the immediacy of one’s impact, and the difficulty of finding a balance between the subjective urge to control and the objective recognition of the brevity of our tenure. It is a life endowed with all the characteristics which modern society mourns as lost: responsibility, commitment, wonder, and peace of mind.
When I was younger, my work was figurative and biographical and took a turn for the narrative, as every thing I saw and did seemed to have a certain timeless, mythological resonance. At the time, I felt it was a way to take a new look at the old myth of Texas ranch life.
More recently I seem to have eliminated the human narrative entirely, except as occupant observer. My work is still essentially biographical and certainly has something to do with aging. I am the documentarian of this particular and familiar slice of South Texas. Recording its fierce beauty and implacable solitude is sufficient expression of my presence.