GRAVEYARD (Fall, 2000) Projects
In this roll of film I start to experiment with images and angles. The idea
began when my Mom and I were visiting family in Washington, PA. We drove to
Pittsburgh with my
Aunt Billie, and I was inspired by the cityÕs many bridges. Pittsburgh is defined
by its three rivers, and the ÒGolden TriangleÓ is formed where the Allegheny
and Monongahela meet to start the Ohio River. There are an amazing number of
working and forgotten
bridges within the city. The beauty of each bridge is in the uniqueness of the
ironwork, how the bridge has withstood the constant activity in brutally cold
winters and
suffocating summers, and the hilly backdrop that frames each bridge. In
addition, the city has a high concentration of decrepit factories that are
easily accessible. Old factories and old bridges are an unbeatable combination
of subject matter for me. We
promised to come back the next day.
At lunch the next afternoon, Billie and I were planning our excursion to
Pittsburgh. We side tracked to a conversation about family background and local
history. Her Mother's side of the family, my paternal Grandmother, was from a
small farming community close to the border of West Virginia. The actual
village name was Enon, and my Grandmother was born in a place called Dogtown
(no joke!). Although extremely hard workers, my Grandmother's family never had
much money. So, it was scandalous when my Grandfather, who was from an
aristocratic farming family close to town, married my Grandmother. The irony
was that underneath this dirt poor farmerÕs land was possibly the largest coal
deposit in the Ohio Valley. However, the families in this small village could
not afford the coal rights under their own lands. A large coal mining company
literally bought the mineral rights out from underneath them. Slowly, as the
families moved or died out, the company also bought the surrounding lands at a
steal. The surviving families, which included my Grandparents, never saw a
dime. The company eventually built the largest and most profitable underground
coal mine in the world, producing hundreds of tons of coal a day. The little
country cemetery at Enon is still there, so we decided make that our
destination.
The mineÕs processing towers shown in the pictures are almost thirty stories high, and they use the most modern technology to sort the coal (image 9). Underground, the mine snakes for miles in many directions, with no apparent regard for what is above. At one time the company was able to get a court order that allowed them to mine directly beneath any home that is bought after 1971. The older couple pictured in image 3 related a story of how their house moved almost three feet during a four week time span in the mid seventies. Legally, the coal mining company did not have to compensate them for their hardship, nor for any of the hardships to the surrounding community. There are towns that do not have running water because the mine destroyed the pipes and the water table. They have to pay for water to be brought in by truck.
There is a dilapidated old house (image 4) that the company owns pictured in image 4. Although it is surrounded by other houses occupied by families, the company refuses to clean up or demolish the house. The company would rather let it fall to the ground. They own the rights to the coal underneath, and what's above is not their concern.
We heard in business school that big corporate money is
good for small towns. Big business usually means jobs, whether it's from direct
hiring, or from ancillary opportunities. Community services, like police and
fire fighting, often improve. That didnÕt seem to happen here. Most of the
workers are from other areas and little of the money stays in the small
villages. The fire fighting department is still volunteer and the
villages still rely on larger neighboring towns for police and ambulance
service. The company has also minimized taxation and direct community
involvement. Just like
my Grandmother's family, the little towns don't have the financial ability or
resources to combat the coal company.
There was, however, a wonderful twist of fate. The company was able to
steamroller through much of the legal red tape in setting up its mine. The
company wanted to place its processing towers and mine shaft at the top of one
of the larger hills in the village of Enon (image 5). But at the bottom of this
hill was my ancestorsÕ little country church (image 6), and the churchÕs
graveyard was midway up the hill. Eventhough the company bought the hill, their
contract with the county prohibited them from moving the graveyard and the
church. The village was given responsibility for upkeep of the graveyard; small
victory. So, many years later, the mine is larger and more profitable
than ever. Yet, in the shadow of these huge monoliths of industry are the
remains of my Great-grandparents, forever married to the land they worked, and
an eternal reminder of the human side of the industrial revolution.
On the day Billie and I went to see the graveyard, it was hazy and overcast.
The atmosphere lent an almost unreal quality to the towers, the masonry of the
tombstones, and the rolling green foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. The
day felt almost dreary and gothic, like the setting of a Poe short story. After
looking at these pictures for the first time, my Father said I should title the
pictures "Monuments," referencing both the stones and the towers.
However, I prefer the images to be unnamed. They are just simple images of
stone, metal, hills, angles and perspectives.