I'm partial to the woods, trees and rather all things nature. I love sunsets and sunrises, falling leaves and beautiful flowers. And, even though the image labeled "Refuge" is nothing more than trees and the woods, I loved the image and wanted to know more. So, guess what I did? Well, I contacted Renderosity member calico_jester and asked him to provide some more details about it!
The woodland area shown in my image is a small portion of land which my Family purchased during 1942 that was previously owned--during the mid-1800's--by one of Cary, North Carolina's founding fathers: Wyatt J. Holleman. He buried two sons here beside an old farm road during the Winter of 1862. The graves were located near our home, which my Dad--after his US Army service during World War II--and started building during 1946. As a child, I lived a substantial portion of my youth by wandering creeks, hills and wetlands. My Aunt Nell also loved the woodlands and created two ponds, which have been the subject of many of my photograph images. During the past five years, this property has been my "refuge" from rampant city growth, with its ever increasing human population. It is home to deer, foxes, raccoon and a variety of birds and wildlife.
The Templeton Plantation, originally consisting of approximately 1600 acres, has been slowly invaded, becoming home to the PNC Arena, NC State Fairgrounds, and a current "centerpiece" for corporate development. I am one of the last remaining individual property owners, soon to be displaced by escalating property taxes and Limited Liability Corporations. Remaining animals, my inspiration, live a frightened and sickly life, poisoned and imprisoned by an ever increasing flood of humanity.
If one finds meaning in a photograph, there must first be a reference. In this case, my reference is a contrast between memories as a child and current visions as an adult. I drank from these streams, swam with fish, frogs, snakes, turtles and became a part of this Nature. I remember when cicadas and frogs were the only sounds of night.
I see--in my image--the futility of a wild grape vine, climbing toward a sky filled with shadows of large old growth timber, which has long since been removed, leaving only stunted pulpwood.
Sounds of Nature have been drowned by a constant roar of roadway and machinery.