Save the date!

Well, it's official!

Saturday, June 28th, 2008 marks the opening of the very first Vanishing America exhibit, which will be on display through July at Roswell's Ann Jackson Gallery!

This marks the first in a series of exhibitions of Fine Art photography from the Vanishing America project. Future exhibits will be held in cities all over the United States, each one showcasing new work as well as some original favorites, but this is the first!

All of the images are in signed, limited editions of 25 and vary in size from 8x10 inches to over 5 feet. And, once an edition sells out, there will be no more. What that means to the collector is that each image will not only retain its value, but that the value of each image will actually increase with time.

The opening night of the exhibit promises to be a blast, with music from Atlanta's best blues band, The Breeze Kings, a wine tasting from local vendors, and barbecue from Alpharetta's own Smokejack restaurant, all accompanying 25 of Vanishing America's best images to date.

If you are in the Atlanta area, and would like to attend... hell, if you're within 200 miles of Atlanta, you have to attend!... please RSVP to holt@vanishingamerica.net as soon as you can. This is an historic event. Space is limited and though this event is free, it will "sell out" very quickly.

Song of the South

Southern Hospitality

We've had some great weather here in the Swamp this past week, and I've been lucky enough to have a local resident (and new friend) take me to see everything I could possibly want to photograph. Travis and Dana Crews live in Nahunta, GA and are friends of my co-pilot and videographer, John Almering. John gave them a call once we figured out we'd be getting to the swamp too late to find an open RV park.

And... this is another one of those serendipitous moments... Travis is descended from the Lee family who was one of several families who settled Billy's Island in the Okefenokee swamp over two hundred years ago. In Travis, we have found an authentic connection to the local history of the Okefenokee and the small towns that surround it.

Travis has been showing us around all week, taking us out into the woods and around the edges of the swamp in search of unspoiled backcountry. And both he and Dana have made us feel at home... taking photos of me driving in the mud, letting us park on their property and making sure we had plenty to eat -- with pancakes, eggs, bacon and homemade biscuits for breakfast and everything from fish and hushpuppies to chicken and dumplings for dinner. They've truly spoiled us. (And, we've loved every minute!)

It's been a long time since I've been shown such hospitality. That's yet another thing that's vanishing in America. With everyone in a hurry to get to work, go to the gym, get the kids off to school, fight traffic, rush to the store, and zip through their lives at a hundred miles an hour, it's refreshing to see a family take in visitors and treat them like their own kin. We've even been invited back in the Spring for a more in-depth tour so Travis can show us the things we missed this time around.

Since we arrived last Wednesday, we've seen old homesteads, burned out plantations, and cemeteries and churches dating from the 1800s. We've been introduced to other descendants of the Lee family, including Timmy Lee (who gave us the grand tour of the old farmhouses and pine forests on his property), and Uncle Clayton Lee, the last of the Lee family to be born on Billy's Island before the Federal government forced everyone out.

I'm simply amazed at our fortune. We've had a wonderful opportunity to see the Old South through the eyes of the people who lived it. No guide or book could give you the stories, the details, and the emotions we've experienced this past week. No map could take you to the incredible places we've seen. And, to these families, it's all just a part of their history.

The sad part is that they all know it can't last forever. With the suburban sprawl coming down from Atlanta, Macon, and nearby Brunswick, a lot of these places will be torn down to make room for McMansions, new subdivisions and shopping centers. And as the folks who remember "how it used to be" grow older and die off, the history of this area will die off with them. Just like the old headstone I saw at Bethlehem cemetery. This beautiful, hand-lettered marker had fallen over a long time ago, and with no kin left in the area to prop it back up and take care of it, it has slowly sunken into the ground, allowing grass and weeds find a foothold, obscuring it from casual view. Another 20 years or so, and it will be just another patch of grass... no-one to remember it, and nobody to care. Just like the tangible history of the Deep South.

Responsibility of Ownership...

(Click on any image to view it full size.)

Back to Redding...

It was a whirlwind tour through Oregon, so many beautiful things to see and so many perfect examples of Vanishing America. I will definitely be back before this journey is complete.

There are a few things worthy of mention from my drive back to Redding.

1. The wild mustangs will have to wait a week or so until I get the Land Rover prepped and ready to tackle the off-road trails necessary to reach these elusive creatures. (This may take a little while -- the Rover isn't finished yet...)

2. There were so many abandoned and deserted buildings along the way, that I could have spent months documenting them all. And, they're not just in Oregon. I've seen them in California, Texas, New Mexico, Nevada, and Georgia, and I'm sure they can be found all over the country. I hope that as I photograph them, I can get a glimpse into their histories and their heydays. Gas stations, hotels, barns, and even churches top the list of buildings that stand alone as progress passes them by. I look forward to being able to tell their stories.

3. The most obvious example of the changing American landscape was to be found in the numerous lakes and streams that, for lack of proper rains and improper water management, have dried up or are in the last throes of life as a source of water. I know this is happening all over the country (even my hometown of Atlanta may be out of water soon), but it seems to stand out all the more when the parched landscape left behind glows white with the cracked salt of the western lakebed.

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As I sit pondering the past three weeks, I find myself confident in my ability to capture interesting images, but unsure of how I feel about this changing country of ours.

People have often asked me if I’m an environmentalist. I’m not sure how to answer that. I love Nature. I love to see the massive forests, the wide-open plains, the tree-lined and snow-capped mountains, the swamps and wetlands, the sweeping deserts, and the diversity of the seashore. I love seeing such a vast array of wildlife in their natural habitats, from the tiniest shrew burrowing into the warm earth, and the herds of elk grazing the highlands, to the largest grizzly catching its lunch in a run of spawning salmon. And, I adore the idea of this land as it was two hundred years ago, teeming with uncountable forms of life.

But, that bountiful landscape is only a memory. When humans began to significantly populate this country, Nature was forced to take a back seat while we shaped the land into something more suitable to the way we wished to live. And, it will always be that way. As a very dear friend of mine noted, "Human beings have to come first. Otherwise, we'll become extinct." That may be an oversimplification, but I believe the intent is correct. We put ourselves at the top of the food chain in order to survive. But being at the top of the food chain comes with responsibility.

For, as long as we’re kings of this mountain, as long as we're in charge, we’re changing the face of our nation to meet our needs -- for good or bad, right or wrong. We continue to grow, and we have to continue to accommodate that growth.

In my travels to big cities and small towns, I've talked with people from all walks of life, and have gotten opinions as varied as the species on this earth. But, regardless of who a person was, or where they lived, one common thread ran through the pattern: Management. More specifically, management of the natural environment. In essence, we can continue to grow as a nation, without destroying the planet or restricting our personal freedoms, by managing this land we call our own.

It's very difficult to do, but there has to be balance in order for both man and nature to thrive. And, since we’re the ones taking over, we must be the ones to take that responsibility. We must be the ones to manage the forests so they don’t go up in uncontrollable wildfires. We must be the ones to manage the herds and their range so they don’t overpopulate and destroy their lands and themselves. We must be the caretakers. Not zookeepers, but caretakers.

Long ago, we decided we wanted this country as our own. Well, now we must take responsibility of ownership.


And, as I continue on my journey, I'm constantly exposed to new ideas and perspectives, and listening to other people's opinions, and keeping an open mind, are two of the greatest advantages to making Vanishing America a successful project.