This work exists in its primary form as a photo book, which I have included a video of above.
>> click on a photo to view full screen + use the arrows to scroll through the collection <<
a video interview with Mark
Some of the memories that stick out the most from my childhood are the ones spent in nature - playing in the creek behind my dad’s coffee shop, sleeping in a tent under the stars of my backyard, or riding ATVs through the forest at my uncle’s lodge. The expansiveness of nature gives my scattered brain room to breathe and run free, a rare occurrence in a world of seemingly constant distraction and stimulation. I seek out this feeling as often as possible, as a way of finding pieces of “home” wherever I go.
This feeling is what led me to the farm. A few years ago, I was driving around without a destination, just enjoying my music and the sunny autumn breeze. After a while, I decided I should head home, so I pulled off the highway with the intention of turning around. As I pulled onto a dirt road, I was immediately flooded with feelings of warm nostalgia and an urge to keep driving, so I did. Further down the road, three horses caught my eye who were curiously staring back at me from the other side of a fence. I parked my car and walked up to them slowly, so they wouldn’t be spooked. The horses quickly charmed me with their gentleness, despite being five times my size. I thought about what a peaceful existence they have and envied how they so effortlessly live in every moment. I got back in my car and headed home, feeling refreshed and giddy at the thought of a new hideout.
As life carried on, I began to yearn for that feeling of quiet contentment and decided to drive back to see the horses. Unfortunately, when I got there, they were on the opposite side of the pasture, and I wasn’t keen on getting charged with trespassing. Then, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Alongside the fence, at the end of the driveway and hidden behind a row of trees, there was a house. I figured this was my only option unless I wanted to try my luck another day, so I walked up to the house and timidly knocked on the front door. An older man in his bathrobe and tattered John Deere ball-cap inched open the door, trying to contain his ferociously barking dog and appearing slightly annoyed at having to deal with a “solicitor” at his door. I explained that I was a sophomore at The University of Kansas studying photography and had enjoyed spending a few moments with his horses weeks before. The farmer’s face quickly lit up. He introduced himself as Mark, explained that he studied film and radio-television at KU in the ’70s, and gave me carrots to feed his horses, who were all named after cars. I marveled at how quickly I was able to find the feeling I had been searching for when I let my intuition guide me.
Visiting the farm soon became my favorite weekend activity. It was somewhere I could go to clear my mind or get out of my small college bubble and routine. During this time I learned about running a farm and caring for animals, lessons of selfless dedication that proved to be valuable in all aspects of life. Mark and I became good buddies, and I looked up to him. He would tell me stories of his college days and the amusing figures he met from years spent in the film industry. We would pick apples off the trees, eating them with the horses, and he would always send me home with a new batch of fresh eggs. It wasn’t long after experiencing the true character of this place, and most importantly, Mark, that I realized I needed to capture these moments. What began as a serendipitous detour transformed into a long-term documentary project, giving me even more of an excuse to visit. I followed Mark around the farm for his usual, yet treasured, routine, being the fly on the wall, snapping shots spontaneously as we went. After a few weeks of doing this, Mark became intrigued by my project, so I brought over my photos on a flash drive, and he projected them onto the TV so we could admire them together.
Before I knew it, I was home for the summer and leaving a few months later to study abroad. When I returned, I inevitably found myself adjusting to new changes around the farm. The little baby chick I held in my hands six months prior was not so little anymore. Bugatti, my sweet companion, was with a new owner, and Lexus had birthed a foal. Fences were repaired, fresh paths were paved, and two of Mark’s helpers, who I had come to know, had moved back to Kansas City - but I was pleased to find that Mark was the same old Mark, with the same routine, tenderly taking care of his animals and his land. I took advantage of this new season of life on the farm and picked up my camera again. Having time away from the farm made me realize how much this place relies on Mark. Rain or shine, from dawn until dusk, he is there. Mark is the constant, the caretaker, the collector. Without him, this place would fall apart.
I hope to continue photographing Mark and the farm for a long time. Two years ago, I never could have imagined how much of a home this place would become for me. It is my breath of fresh air, and I hope these images can be that for you, too. I hope this work inspires you to slow down, play in some dirt, and follow what makes you feel alive and untethered. Who knows, maybe take a risk and knock on a door… there could be something magical waiting on the other side.
